Daily Literature Deviations for March 8, 2010

6 min read

Deviation Actions

DailyLitDeviations's avatar
Published:
880 Views

Daily Lit Deviations for March 8th, 2010



We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!

Please show your support by :+fav:ing this News Article

Don't hesitate to comment or :+fav: the artists for their hard work!


:star: For all of the featured artists: If you receive a DD for one of your pieces featured by DLD please note us. We will include you and your piece in a special recognition news article. :star:



Poetry


featured by: RunningBear5858
:thumb156476157:
"In The Puppeteer's Absence" by Freakomaniacadisical

A gorgeously written poem describing the
author running around the world, in the absence of a god.
The concept itself is interesting to begin with, and the
language is so compelling, it will leave you wanting more
and more until the very last line.



Featured by hell-on-a-stick

"Purgatory will smell like mothballs" by ShadowedAcolyte

One of the most replete vocabularies on DeviantArt,
ShadowedAcolyte gives both rich storytelling and
experimental verse a tweak.  Definitely worth a read
and a watch if you like words that sizzle on the tongue
and make you sweat for an answer.



Prose


suggested by KneelingGlory
featured by julietcaesar

Broken ChaosThe lights had dimmed, and I opened my eyes to a familiar room. We were sitting in Jack's living room, watching some movie I must have been too young for. Every one of the females, including myself, was dressed in some kind of colorful snubbery, trying to impress someone with our still-developing bodies. Rachel was wearing a low-cut white tank top, her bony chest alluring no one but the skeletons in a nearby closet. Liz was wearing some gaudy, bright tee, curves impressing no one but Rachel's bony chest. Sara was wearing a black, lacy top, her young full breasts attracting everyone. I was wearing a green, striped polo, arms crossed over my breasts. I had hid myself from the world, yet yearned to have Jack closer.
He sat beside me, staring at the movie with a watery glaze in his eye that revealed his mind was elsewhere. He yawned, stretched; his slender arm found it's way around my shoulders. I could have screamed with euphoric bliss if I had not lost my basic motor functions. I lay my

"Broken Chaos" by Dominoblox

This stark, painful yet beautifully written piece
is strongly built on memeories of the past. With great
characterisation, readers are able to identify with the
narrator as she goes through her experiences in life.



Featured by itsaki
All-Gifted            The jar felt cold in her hands as she nervously stood in the golden hall.  She was surrounded by beautiful people, the gods of the world that she knew was below her feet, although she had never seen it.  This was her first home, her birthplace, although its walls were cold and she did not feel any kind of attachment to them.  This place was foreign, belonging to a group of immortals more powerful than her newly formed mind could comprehend, and she knew she could not call this place her home, nor did she ever, in all the years she had been there.
            Years, or minutes?  She could not remember further back then when the muscled man led her into the hall.  He had carried with him a hammer and had been lame, giving her a mixed feeling of pity and disgust at the sight of the man.  She was left

"All-Gifted" by sethjarre

A beautifully crafted tale of Pandora.
The imagery sucks the reader in and makes them
a part of the girl as she is with the Gods. A well
told tale and a beautiful read.




Foreign Language


Featured by: Magic-fan
principios
É sobretudo o silêncio.
O silêncio de quando as portas do cinema se abrem e piscamos os olhos, de forma a nos ajustarmos, de novo, a realidade. E depois o silêncio.
O silêncio de regresso a nós.
Dobro a roupa do dia, a que não está, ainda, suja. As janelas já estão fechadas mas posso perceber os cães a ladrarem. Oh, o silêncio. E na cozinha alguém abre uma garrafa. Alguém que acabe com o silêncio. A chave é não pensar, continuar, não perceber que o cinema já fechou, que aquela história já não é mais a minha. Perceber o silêncio.
Afinal de contas podia apenas clicar no play da aparelhagem.
É sobretudo o silêncio. Silêncio de quando passamos tempo demais rodeados de sons e das suas ausências (fazem mais barulho do que tudo o resto), e depois o écran fica preto e tudo o que resta é o silêncio, um enorme, silêncio. É també

"principios" by PurpleRadish

PurpleRadish may not have much
literature in her gallery, but the Portugese written
works she has are of excellent quality and filled
with emotion. This piece is no exception to that.





For more information, including how to suggest a Deviation to be featured, please visit us at DailyLitDeviations
Prepared by: KneelingGlory
© 2010 - 2024 DailyLitDeviations
Comments3
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
PurpleRadish's avatar
Thank you so much :heart: