Daily Literature Deviations for March 29th, 2011

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Daily Lit Deviations for March29th, 2011


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Poetry



Suggested by OritPetra
Featured by apple-dark

we don't know anythingI have used this piece of writing as a submission for a writing portfolio as part of my application for Bangor University (6th January 2015) -- Danielle Jade Dudley UPDATE: I got in ;)
you wrote right-handed, but you played
the guitar left-handed. i asked you why
and your chapped lips formed a crumpled
smile, the smile that always reminded me
of a pink accordion, and you said, "i guess
my brain was just wired backwards that way."
those were the days when i was not a girl
made of smoke and charred bones,
(we pretended that i wasn't, anyway)
the days when i did not need a bottle the way
i had as a baby, now glass instead of plastic
(i hadn't yet recognised that i did, anyway)
and the words i love you spilled so naturally
over my lips like strawberry liquor.
i never told you how odd you looked
with your clothes on, did i?
you liked to play on the beach, alone,
at night time, the moon your spotlight,
the pallid sand your stage. naked, you
didn't sing in english; you said the stars
w

we don't know anything by SameStripes

OritPetra says, "Brimming with language at its most
finely distilled, and packed with heart-stopping images, this
piece sensitively and vividly portrays a difficult theme: suicide.
Unlike many other literary works that deal with this subject, this
piece avoids common clichés and "easy" language, demonstrating
instead an astute eye for innovation, realism, and fresh language."


Featured by spoems
she said 'you love poetry morebells
ringing at noon
as the rain
begins
to fall;
from bed i listen:
"rain on bells
rain on rain
bells on bells
we've
got
it
all"
i shake
you
awake
"did you
hear
that?"
"what?"
"they've got
it
all!"

she said "you love poetry more than you love me." by Anthony-Ryan

This delightful little poem feels like a zen koan,
serving to snap the reader awake into a new state of lucidity.


Suggested by: o-ohhai
Featured by bowie-loon123

:thumb199746275:
Pretty Little Girl by suspendbelief

The suggester noted that:
"There's something so wonderfully rhythmic about
this piece. The writer was clearly conscious of the
beat, and that helps this poem really flow. But more
than that, there is a feeling to this piece that is
very profound, very moving and nearly indescribable.
"


Prose



Featured by: SadisticIceCream
If OnlyA young woman, too young to be exposed to the pain she had found so recently, sat at her Father's bedside. Inside her warm, soft hands, she held the calloused and motionless hands of the man she loved. The heart-monitor made a slow and steady rhythm; a sign of either hope or loss. She turned her head away from the closed eyes of her Father, and swept her eyes over the snow-covered trees outside the small window of the hospital room. She found herself praying, though she did not know to whom, that somehow this would not be the last image of her Father. Her mind fell prisoner to her memories, as she wished she could be as strong as he had always been for her.
The snow reminded her of their snowball fights in winter, how they planned childish assaults against each other and used the snow-covered hedges for defence. She felt herself giggle as she remembered catching him completely unaware with a huge snowball she had made. His laughter was always so hearty and pure, and that day had produc

"If Only" by ShroudedTempest

ShroudedTempest presents a vignette from the life of a
father and a daughter as they confront memories, tragedy,
and a moment of loss.


Featured by: Kitri-du-Lac
Butterfly"Have you always been a bumblebee?"
"Of course! Haven't you always been a butterfly?"
The butterfly snorted. "Of course not. How boring! Life is too short to stay the same all the time."
The bumblebee frowned, skeptical. "But that's ridiculous. How could you have ever been something else? What were you?"
"I used to be a caterpillar. You know, the world is much different when you're stuck that close to the ground." The butterfly's blue wings shimmered.
The bumblebee just stared, bug-eyed. "But how?" he demanded.
"Sorry, trade secret," the butterfly winked. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
The frown of the bumblebee deepened, and he lifted off of the sunflower they had been sharing.
"Fine," he said. "If you're just going to be making up stories, I might as well leave."
The butterfly followed him through the air. "What's wrong with making up stories?" She asked. "Not that I am, because I wasn't, but really, what's so bad about it? Stories are magic."
"They'

"Butterfly" by friesaregood

A modern fable, this story is simple yet well constructed.
The theme is reflected in the character choices, and fleshed out
further by vivid descriptions and very pretty imagery.
A lovely tale.





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Prepared by: pullingcandy


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