Daily Lit Deviations for December 11^th, 2009</u>

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Poetry

_{Featured by: dreamsinstatic}
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“Dysfunctional Reality” by Rinkurai
<sub>Written from a place of power, every
line is sharply executed and expresses a
swell of emotion that is undeniable.  
Thought provoking and grim, the subtlety of
rhyme only works to accent the force behind
these words.


Featured by: teenyxtinyxtina</sub>
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"5." by yuna9997
<sub>This poem's flowing phrases join
together to create a metaphorical sense
of darkness in beauty.


Featured by: TheBrassGlass</sub>
After DickinsonThere is a Queen all clad in silk
Whose cloak is purest white –
She lives atop a tower of green
And outshines Moon by night –
Her crown is of the purest gold,
And golden is her spire –
And when the lowly leave this earth
She visits at the bier –
She mourns without opaque remorse –
But rather, lays her head
Below the corpse's whitewashed face
And shares his final bed –
And when her consort rises up
And leaves her on her own,
She gives up all her worldly grace
And fades into his bone –
"After Dickinson" by artemisalaunt
_{This piece was submitted a while ago,
but it succeeds so well at what it does
that many could learn a thing or two here.
It is a poem written in a style of rhyme
and subject matter based on Emily Dickinson's
work. The rhyming is not forced or trite; on
the contrary, it is well executed and even elegant.}

Prose

_{Suggested by: ZephyrHero
Featured by: Leah-the-Red}
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"Brawling Sailor: Titanic" by ZephyrHero
<sub>This fantastic piece about anthropomorphic,
yet realistic characters brings the best of
action and mystery together as it reveals
a boxing otter's mysterious past.


Featured by: itsaki</sub>
Je amour vos os.It’s funny, last April you tried to compliment me in French and I said I didn’t understand.
I did - I actually did.
But you were speaking French and I thought that made it an excuse to lie or something?
It doesn’t matter really; after all you were only talking about my eyes.
----
You know I try so hard to be there for you,
but you don’t even know my middle name, my shoe size, my favourite colour, what I wanted to be as a child or if my bruises are purple or yellow.
I could be really clever right now and say:
Vous ne savez pas même mon deuxième prénom, ma taille de chaussure, ma couleur préférée, ce qui je veux que soit quand je grandis ou si mes contusions sont pourpres ou jaunes.
But what that actually means is:
“You do not know even my second first name, my size of shoe, my preferred colour, which I want that when I am grown or if my contusions are crimson or yellow.”
Everything gets lost in translation, now do you un
"Je amour vos os." by wordcut-outs
_{A small piece that shows how words
can always get lost in translation,
sometimes more literally than others.}



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_{prepared by: RavensQuill}