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must be created & submitted to dA on/after December 22, 2012
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A Moment
Before we begin our usual shenanigans, let's take a minute to remember one of the literature communities losses. January 11th marks the 1 year since the passing of `GeneratingHype a wonderful writer and former volunteer as a gallery moderator, but more than that, a truly beautiful person. If you knew him or not, please take a moment and read Gone, But Not Forgotten
*FEATURE*
POETRY
stargazer p.1feeling less like an artist:thumb72573183::thumb135206983:
and protagonist, he
arrives home and opens
the window to the night
fresh paint over memories,
her arrival, and a thousand
tomorrows rest on the sill
underneath the sky, he sits
when minutes became hours
and twilight touched the dawn
he thought fondly back to words
she spoke years before
i don't believe in love,
but i believe in you
starlit fingertipsI am a poet; never looking at the camera
hands in my pockets,
and jean-cuffs tasting the floorboards,
with the scent of my leaving.
I am bare feet crushing grains of sand,
like my hard heart; paper-clipping dream-scraps
to my jacket-lining,
and hiding them against my shoulder.
I am words spilt out across computer screens
at midnight -
pulling stars down from the sky, facet by facet
and gathering cliches in the hems of my skirts,
as though saving them for later.
and I'm trying to hold on,
to a world that's slip-
slip-
slipping
through my f
Orange HipstersCorduroy, once the cloth of kings,*2:thumb191878793:*4
before our engines of mass production
made it common place.
I can remember still
the sensual hug of those so-closely
fitting hipsters of plangent orange
corduroy. I can feel the struggle
against my fear of the mob's derision
with every step I took.
(Another might
have been brave enough to
to wear them unselfconsciously.)
My air flowed past my shoulders
I wore a corduroy jacket,
black as jet. I forced the tribe
of strangers to mark my progress,
I bore their hostile stares.
Within my heart withered,
still imprisoned by their grey regime.
Crash city.This town's so lifeless now inside its
grey concrete exoskeleton;
a bug baked up in the summer sun,
too dry to rot with autumn's leaves and so
preserved in stasis under thick sheets of ice;
dead and already forgotten.
Yet people froze red knuckled and wrapped up in stolen blankets,
long before the suits suffocated in their own success,
gasped over their Tuesday morning copies of the Wall Street Journal
and choked on expensive coffee they could no longer afford;
too black to swallow.
But now it's the stuff high-quality photojournalism:
huddled bodies, bags, and shopping carts bathed in the glow
of humming Wal-Mart signs and neon-gold
Terra FirmaThis is an allegory; I
am not what I seem
and yet this means something.
Re-read, and you might realise
the abstraction behind my eyes -
a break like toothache
I shook to bake. Instant magic.
I talk good, you eat glass -
we do crosswords behind our backs:
each clue cryptic, a crypt.
This fable is a whole world
under the kitchen table,
curled like a cat or a cardigan
or a knife.
Life, distilled: a cold brew.
That's what I offer you.
Across this mirror,
this terra firma,
I'll throw my reflection
towards the light -
hoping that someday,
it might mean something
to me, too.
PROSE
tears don't drown your sorrowlost one,
Why do you always seem so sad? Your eyes are deep cerulean swirls of the sea, calm on the surface but fatal underneath with endless anfractuosities. Crestfallen rivers find their way down your cheeks and fall like raindrops on your cold hands.
If you were a song you would be the most broken and desolate winter nocturne in solo. You would be the beautiful heartbreaking tune of the violinist in the park, leaning down to close his old case full of coins.
You said you could play the piano for hours, from sunrise to sunset and into the quiescent night, but I know your slender fingers always remain the same temperature---below zero. An
Frigid NickelsThe Grandage homestead was seldom placid. One passing by on the walk, tilted and broken by the roots of a great sycamore, could hear the piping voices of a mother and child in lively dialogue; or perhaps the occasionally strident vocalization of a tot not yet ready for intelligible speech - clamoring for attention.
Inside, on this day, a lusty chorus resonated; "frigid nickels - frigid nickels - frigid nickels," dashing about the room and down the narrow hall he stormed. Bobby's too squeaky, barely five year old voice went, shrieking his mad refrain; "frigid nickels - frigid nickels."
"Bobby!" Madelyn raised her voice
Without chainsi. Nightmares fall from my eyes like a thousand tiny stars, glittering like silver doves at four-in-the-morning, when everyone should be asleep and yet no one really is, and there's nothing I can do to stop their fall—*1:thumb190550293::thumb186651099:
there's nothing I can do to stop your fall—
ii. In the darkness, I can hear you breathe.
"Just close your eyes," you whisper, "and everything's going to be all right."
The nightmares keep falling, crashing on the sheets like the lies from your lips.
You loved lying more than you loved me.
iii. "For me," and I heard your voice cracking
the last sad song on the radioyou want the truth? well, here it is.*3
eventually you forget. you forget which teachers taught which subjects, you forget their names and eventually you forget who they were at all. you forget the dates of wars, and who fought who and even who won - all the stuff you never learned, anyway, just memorized the night before.
you forget which english books you hated, and where you went for lunch, and you forget the lyrics to that one song that could conjure up all those memories. you forget which tests you passed and which you failed and if it really mattered in the end. you forget all the nights that turned into mornings, and you forget all the
BattlefieldIt's probably sick that I have such an addiction to you, but I can't find it in myself to care. Your attention is something that I bathe in. I let it run under skin and catch between vertebrae, warm and heavy. It is the coat you cannot put over my shoulders, the wisp of hair you cannot brush from my face, the question you cannot answer.:thumb190287194:*1
My spine has become a staircase for you, molded by the treading of your continuous feet. It's becoming soft and it's caving in, and the butterfly nerves in my fingers just can't stand you anymore. They're itching to make you fly away. I never used to think thoughts like these, thoughts that I would be ashamed
GROUPS
WARNING: so we can keep featuring groups, we will now be featuring more from one group in each article.
#SixWordStories is a group for just what it says, six word stories. Recently founded by ^3wyl they aim to inspire you to create these little stories and share them with each other. Here are a few pieces from their gallery...
Six Word StoryOnly six words?!
How the hell—
starslike stars
let's shine after death
Today...Tomorrow speaks, "I lived through yesterday."
BullyingYou constantly remind me I'm worthless.
6 Word Story 7 Deadly: PridePride was:thumb191082307:
my catalyst
and undoing.
Free-fallShe jumped. The world kept spinning.
Brushed offI brushed off fingerprints, and guilt.
Piano notesAn ocean breeze playing piano notes
Suggestors this week are: *1!Lena-The-Angel*2=hiddendelights*3!Midnight--Elf*4=OritPetra
*LITERARY HAPPENINGS*
NEWS - PROJECTS - ECT.
*TinkerTrex wants to know your opinion on idealism. Stop by and give your opinion here.The latest installment of The A,B,C's of Literature: N has been released by ~the-photographicpoet#projecteducate is focus was on literature this week, check out the articles.*The Literature Community
*Lit Groups Under the Radar
*Finding the Profound in Nonfiction
*Urban fantasy literature
*Visual and Concrete Poetry
*The Submission Process and You!
*Copyright & 1st Publication Rights
*Finding the Profound in Nonfiction
*Plight of the Commonly Miscatted
*WTH Characters & Settings Gallery?
A thank you to our Literature GMs `nycterent, !GwenavhyeurAnastasia, `GaioumonBatou and `Halatia
`LadyLincoln has released her latest issue of Ladies of Lit: Volume VICONTESTS
#theWrittenRevolution is hosting a One Year Later contest in celebration of their one year birthdAy. DEADLINE: 30th.January.2011#Live-Love-Write is hosting a Seasons of Life contest. DEADLINE: 01.February.2011#ProjectPositivity is at it again with their latest project Promoting Positivity by Teaching Tolerance. DEADLINE: 01.February.2011~simplypoetry has finally returned and is hosting a Back from the Dead! contest in their return. DEADLINE: 04.February.2011~TheWordRonin is hosting a The Spririt of Giving Literature Contest. DEADLINE: 06.February.2011Write a letter to your former, present or future self in the Letters to Myself II contest hosted by #Letters-To-Myself DEADLINE: 07.February.2011~the-photographicpoet has launched her latest contest This Is It open to all medias. DEADLINE: 10.March.2011!KneelingGlory has relaunched her Anti-Trafficking contest open to all medias. DEADLINE: 02.June.2011*dA LIT. COMMUNITY*
Literature GM's
aka: the people who feature DD's and help manage the literature community
`GaioumonBatou - DD Suggestion Guidelines
`nycterent - DD Suggestion Guidelines
!GwenavhyeurAnastasia - DD Suggestion Guidelines
`Halatia - DD Suggestion Guidelines
Lit. Forums
Lit WorkshopPoetry & ProseFantasy LiteratureResources
Community Updates by ~mode-de-vieLiterature Resource Central by !lovetodeviateLit. Groups List by `leoraigarathLiterature & Writing Resources by ~WorldWar-ToriResources on the Side kept by `leoraigarathMisc.
Literature NewsBrowse Literature*FINAL NOTE*
SUGGEST A WRITERIf you'd like to suggest a writer to be featured in the next issue of LitBits please send a note to ~WorldWar-Tori with their name and the piece you'd like featured.
SUGGEST A GROUPSuggesting a group is like suggesting a deviant.
Send ~WorldWar-Tori a note with a bit about the group and a little bit about them. Also send a few pieces from the group that stood out to you.
NOTE : When a group or deviant you suggested is featured, you will be listed as a suggester and will also be notified about the feature as well.
LITERARY HAPPENINGSIf you know of any happenings within the literature community, please feel free to send a note to ~WorldWar-Tori with a link to the information of the projects/contest/news/ect. so we can feature it, also include.
Contests & Projects : include theme, deadline and link.
News & Blogs : please include link and brief description
Other : include whatever you feel necessary and a link.
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I appreciate it
Indeed, I'm glad to see so many approve