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Daily Lit Deviations for January 3^rd, 2012

We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!
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Please comment and the features and congratulate the artists!


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

Poetry

_{Featured by: LadyofGaerdon}
Phantoms Of Another UniverseLook.
I'll tell it like it was.
black.
cold.
wretched.
Static clung to the air
like ornaments on a Christmas tree
and we were graced with the odd arced lightning.
Oh, it was cold.
so cold.
I remember not seeing,
my fingers frozen off as
feeling receded from them
like waves on a beach.
how could I even be sure
they were.
still.
there?
the forgotten memory of a sunset
lay imprinted on my brain,
and its absence made the night
emptier than ever.
we waited.
we waited for the moon to rise,
for the clouds to shift,
for the e-lec-tri-ci-ty to stop
(like lost travelers stumbling
in the desert waiting for an
oasis mirage to shatter their
re-a-li-ty)
we waited, questioning our existence,
questioning this formation of
carbonnitrogengalaxy,
questioning the light that remained
unseen.
(like questioning "how in the world did
I lose that!" and it turns out you hadn't—
you'd been waving it, flailing it, even,
(incredulously) in your hand)
we waited.
and one year later,
one eternity l
"Phantoms of Another Universe" by Iceotter

<sub>This is a rather brilliant
concept, well-executed, and makes
for a very compelling, thought-
provoking read.


Featured by: Carmalain7</sub>
Reach BackYou reach back for it, that time
he sat there, blank, as you repeated yourself.
There was a crack in the kitchen floor
(It's still there. He isn't.)
And the sun was setting
which should be a metaphor
but all that happened was a dark room
with you two in it.
If you could go back and see
would it still look that way?
Gray with pointless murmurs
and the broken sink giving commas
to the things that you had said before?
If he didn't listen, neither did you.
(You're still there, someone fixed the sink.)
Don't wish you could change it
It's just a moment, like any other.
You went to sleep and woke up
determined and went to sleep again
with nothing.
(Nothing's still there, just like everything is.)
And you know, you could be yourself
or him, or whoever built that floor
and you'd still struggle for words
and make your change and make it wrong.
We all did this, reached and fell
but only some of us told.
And that's the only secret.
Reach Back by TeaRoses

<sub>One of the best examples of the
metaphysical aspects of experience i
have ever seen. A truly jaw-dropping piece.


Suggested by LiliWrites
Featured by: spoems</sub>
I Want to be ReadI don't want confinement
behind strict white
cut to fit a traveller's pocket,
squeezed in on myself
where you peer around folds
to glimpse a meaning.
I don't want to be
recorded, sorted and optimised,
placed against the others waiting
to be discovered
or left preserved
or maybe lost.
Take me from them premature,
toss me to survive
and see myself reflected
many times a different angle
in prismatic clarity
though from uncertain origins.
Tear me from my bounds to share,
transpose me to your breath.
Prop me up
so that I may see myself live
in thought and speech and action
of the everyday.
Don't let me be another one of them;
I'm not content with seclusion —
I was made to be crumpled
in a strange kind of love.
Being seen is not enough;
I want to be read.
I Want to be Read by Shadocchi

_{Per the suggester: "Quite a unique
viewpoint in this piece, and something
I think every artist and writer can
sympathize with.}

Prose

_{Featured by: LadyofGaerdon}
EnoughI'm holding on to secrets so tightly my hands start to burn.
Winter has come full-force, wind sending the windows quivering against their panes and snow blanketing the Earth in an ivory sheen.  We're all bundled up inside, pressed together for warmth to maybe give a bit of it to the not-still-living locked up in a metallic casket no bigger than a shoe box. The mix of flowers –yellow roses, her favorite– and the musty smell of the funeral home permeates everything, makes my nose crinkle up and eyes sting, spilling over with tears.
The sea of nameless, faceless acquaintances part as I walk forward, cold hands on my back and muted, guilty I'm sorrys assaulting my ears, prolonging my mission. I meet the table, watch my Aunt sniffle and move on her way, pausing to wipe her tears on my shoulder and hug me tight.
I take my turn, all eyes on me. They know,
they know.
Her face stares back at me, a dozen pressed beneath glass, her hair in a bob the color of driftwood a
"Enough" by AlloenDreams

<sub>Pure, devastating, heart-wrenching
emotion, flawlessly written into
powerful being.


Featured by doodlegirl</sub>

Mud by lluviosa

_{A wonderfully entrancing and
macabre tale about a woman's descent
into madness.}


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to be featured, please visit us at DailyLitDeviations.

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~ The DailyLitDeviations Team ~


_{Prepared by: spoems}