Daily Literature Deviations for May 3, 2012

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Daily Lit Deviations for May 3rd, 2012


We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!
You can show your support by :+favlove:ing this News Article.

Please comment and :+fav: the features and congratulate the artists!


:pointr: For all of the featured artists: If you receive a DD for one
of your pieces featured by DLD please note LiliWrites.

We will include you and your piece in a special recognition news article. :pointl:

Special Edition: Staff Appreciation

We usually don't feature work from our staff, as the point is to feature great work
we find around deviantART. But some of our staff have been here for more than a year,
and all of them are lovely, talented authors. So May 2nd - 5th will feature the finest
pieces from the galleries of our Category and General Admins. If you'd like to suggest
a piece from one of their galleries, please send a note to LiliWrites. Thank you.

VicariouSoul


Siryan is a Poetry Admin and a relatively new addition to the team.
I remember being impressed with his earnest desire to feature the best
work he could find on a greater platform. That enthusiasm is essential
to the team here, and we appreciate him all the more for it.

Featured by LiliWrites
Save Us from OurselvesThe drugs are failing they know not why,
and speak in numb last-word weary lisps,
but just to relive that no-good first high
they choose, "It is my life!" and do to die;
and from these last-word lazy whisps
I could only make sense of little sense,
"Zthere's a sthomething ōfer my hehd . . ."
And quietly to themselves
they would schmooze,
"Lhord zave uhs frhom ourzelves,
to pull these tomes recording
our lives from off our shelves!"
and of other things no schmoozer
had ever schmoozed before,
with all the seeming to've had
one-too-many booze.
Sucking on a Mope Stick: Hēwf-mm-puhf,
"Life's tough" they'd say, "Life's tough,"
and from everything they'd slip into weaning,
weening to find a crumbsum of meaning,
playing their life's phonetic sheet notes,
resolving into the resolution chord,
dissolving in discordant convulsion to
Nothing.In.Hysteric.Inane.Laughter,
angled in doorways at a misery's slope,
dragging on a final, final fantasy.
Save

Save Us From Ourselves by VicariouSoul

Fantastic use of phonics, rhythm, and storytelling come together
in this short, intense, and highly critical poem.


Featured by LiliWrites
Humans to Bugs - God to HumansMother swats flies with a flip flop, so confident they'd all die,
Smiling while saying, “Sorry little fellas but you were annoying!”
No more circling around the summer day they’d been enjoying.
Whacks and thwacks later, a reflection back to herself is nigh:
Saddled down by guilt she asks me, “Is that considered murder?”
I imagined what it would feel like being hit by a swinging girder,
Then softly laughed following a humph, my shoulder shrugs,
I humbly replied, “God is to humans as humans are to bugs.”

Humans to Bugs - God to Humans by VicariouSoul

Short and clever, this poem leaves us with much to consider
on the philosophical/religious viewpoints of humans.


shebledgreenink


Asyia goes by three names (perhaps to go with the three languages she knows)
according to her profile. She's our Foreign Language admin as well as a Prose admin
and consistently finds gorgeous works (sometimes with translation!) to feature
from many parts of the non-English-speaking community.

Featured by LiliWrites
LevinaI dreamt of you last night.
You danced in my front door, pulled my hand and pulled me out with you. I was making eggs in my underwear. The landscape was a field of foot-high grass in the middle of a purple bowl of mountaintops under a saran wrap lid of sky. Your sky. We were locked in a fast-paced ballroom number that had me stepping on my own toes, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself. The rim of the bowl broke, the pieces landed in our path, the saran wrap tore on the jagged skyline.
You pranced over piles of rubble, threw your hair back and threw us over the mountains. I was tangled in the grass, legs shapeshifting into green pillars. The outside of the bowl was a table of hard brown dirt with the occasional placemat farm. Your plateau throne. We were like gods sitting on a cloud to rule the floor before us, but I had a hard time believing the cloud was solid. The farms spat forth onions that we ate raw, the taste burned down our throats and out our feet, its white-hot power surge

Levina by shebledgreenink

Part of a series of short pieces based on names, this piece holds
a definitely prosetry flavor. Fast-paced and hynotic with stunning imagery,
it is a powerful study on love that burns too hot.


Featured by LiliWrites
la place de la bastillerencontre-moi ici, cette nuit
quand nous nous sommes echappés
(pas juste moi, mais toi aussi)
quand nous sommes libres
rencontre-moi ici, en été
après que nous ayons mûri
je veux t'amener maintenant
oui, croît-moi!
mais nous ne sommes pas encore libres
rencontre-moi ici, quand tout est silencieux
si toutes les secondes sont les possibilités
alors, pourquoi je ne dois pas les prendre?
un jour, toi aussi
tu vas les prendre aussi
(j'éspère)
rencontre-moi ici, quand le temps est venu
nous allons aller d'une prison à une autre prison
ici, je vais t'attendre
nous allons jouer ensemble comme ce que
j'éspère que nous jouaions quand tu étais petit
nous allons incarcérer des prisonniers politiques
et nous allons nous demander si nous sommes devenus libres pour cette sorte de vie

la place de la bastille by shebledgreenink

There's an English translation provided in the artist's comment
of this poem that focuses on growing up inside boundaries.


betwixtthepages


Beth joined the team recently as well, and has proved herself a most
valuable asset. She's friendly, compassionate, and has excellent taste.
Plus she's got her fingers in all corners of dA Lit as an admin for several different groups.

Featured by LiliWrites
Disappointed RainThere are twelve phone books
strewn across your porch
like tortured reminders.
It rained last night,
a subtle lullaby
against half-opened windows;
I could hear,
in the drops
across those cheap plastic bags,
your disappointed sigh.
Tomorrow,
I'll call the Salvation Army
to come pick up these boxes
of chipped china
and faded flamingos.
Right now,
I'm burying the cat
we all forgot to feed
once the ambulance took you away.

Disappointed Rain by betwixtthepages

This piece uses small, tactile details to paint a poignant portrait.

Featured by LiliWrites

Mature Content


The Memory Box by betwixtthepages

Soul mates, lost loves, dreams, quotes, and the waiting particular to women -
all of these elements combine into a fantastic short that starts with a dead sparrow.


For more information, including how to suggest a Deviation
to be featured, please visit us at DailyLitDeviations.

Thanks so much for supporting the lit community and this project!

~ The DailyLitDeviations Team ~


Prepared by: LiliWrites
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VicariouSoul's avatar
Pardon me for the late coming, but I appreciate this very much! I cannot stress this enough. These other pieces were very enjoyable to read as well.



Siryan