Doc texts me a weird times
My week was mostly spent filling out job applications, so this section won't be long. I think I've sent out all the Christmas cards I wanted to send, but I'm probably wrong. I must have sent out close to 30 cards by now.
I still need some StyleOverSubstance participants if you're interested - don't forget, the game starts again in January!
I'm also still on the lookout for the best literature of 2014, so keep sending me your picks. And don't forget about all the Wishes floating around either!
Finally, my critique contest ended today, with few entries. Disappointing, but I'll get the prizes passed out later tonight
DailyLitRecognition really needs prose suggestions! Send them to me or one of the other admins of out lovely prose team please!
Holiday Card Project 2014
Holiday Horrors--A Contest
theWrittenRevolution is throwing down the gauntlet: Groups Need More Respect - A Change In Rules
Love Letter Contest
when i consider the extent of my influencelovely swindler, i deal in upset kindling
and tender words dealt like tarot cards;
this time we are lovers but the next time
our luck might dwindle.
doe-eyed vixen, perfect posture and opportunity
colliding in a puny frame built by silk hands
and heavy mascara. when i run, my alabaster
stains and they are transfixed.
quiet boy, be careful with your heartstrings.
i learned my melodies early and kept
my skill up with frequent practice.
don't be my latest instrument.
Who Forgot Where He Was GoingTo begin, no child expects to find much of legendary creatures in the middle of a desert just west of Albuquerque. It’s none too interesting, and it’s far more irritating than any possible sibling or curfew could ever be. Then again, most children consider anything larger than either of their hands and enough like refuse (especially that which traumatizes a particular motherly figure) of astronomical importance. Perhaps that is why the irony of the duo’s meeting was of such a magnitude that one could only think it scripted; the magnificence of a dragon encountered wandering the land of enchantment is lost to a vein of such meager growth only because it is neither an object with which to rebel against authority or an artifact to display to at the schoolyard (because what person, no less what child, would believe that their friend, even the best friend they’d take to Pluto and back, saw a dragon in the middle of nowhere?).
Either that, or perhaps the child w
you're all dead to meare you going to be okay
not a question nor a statement
a grey area sentence
meaning, i have to ask
but i really don't care if you are or aren't
everybody wants to keep their conscience clear
but their hands are so fucking dirty
And so the lion caught the lambMy friends told me it would be painful, told me
how they regretted the who and the where and
the why. (mostly it was the who, that drunken
swagger translated into love, those wandering
hands into trust) but I never expected bright
sunlight, sober lips meeting with a quiet sigh
as your mother tongue slotted itself back into
your mouth (I couldn’t understand a word but damn
Turkish is beautiful) and I never thought it would
be halfway around the world with a boy who was a lion,
feline eyes heavy, ivory teeth sharp but when you walked
into the room how could I not realise before that your leonine
mane translated into beauty, that your hips were meant to be the
first to kiss mine?
It will be a hell of a story to tell, and my children
will call me lion-tamer as I laugh (and I will read them
the tale of the thorn in the lion’s paw with a smile) and you
will roar from the depths of my memory with startling ferocity,
vivid in my mind as black eyes stare back at me on the other side