Daily Lit Recognition for March 6^th, 2015

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Poetry

_{Suggested by: MagicalJoey}

_{Featured by: betwixtthepages}

:thumb511912617:

How We Forget by Serentic

_{This is a powerful, heart-wrenching message.}

_{Featured by: chromeantennae}

Photoshopped LifeYou can't saturate the wheel
In the colors of real life;
You can't always up the contrast
In your mother's loving eyes.
You can't play with the exposure
Of a blinding summer day;
You can't include the clover
Or the smell of drying hay.
You can't take the sound of falling snow
And post for all to see,
Or capture every icy rainbow
Shining from the trees.
You can't enhance the laughter
Of the two friends by your side;
You cannot crop the flying hairs
So that they lay just right.
So let the hues be slightly dull
Who cares if skin is clear?
Just take the days, appreciate
The lovely and sincere.

Photoshopped Life by Emily-Byrd

_{This is a simple, succinct little piece, with a smooth rhyme and good message.}

Prose

Featured by: Rose-Em

Suggested by: Steve-C2

Where do you live, Arry?    The sound of sandpaper followed Arry everywhere that he went.  Dragging his feet behind him as he walked home, he recognized that godforsaken sound again.
    He heard it all day at work, he heard it in his tired, dragging feet, he heard it in the sound of tires across pavement and chipmunks running across grass.  It was forever present, forever torturing him.
    Arry was only 10 years old, yet he was working an illegal and dangerous job.  “Street rats” like himself didn’t usually get all that much protection from the government, and they didn’t ask for it.  If you wanted to live, you worked.  If you wanted to live, you dealt with the conditions of your job.
    In all his 3,653 days of Arry’s life, there were none so important as this.
    Arry just didn’t know it yet.
    To him, everything looked the same.  The cramped house

Where do you live, Arry? by cassyme

_{Suggester says: The story started with a simple prompt. It takes a talented writer to take some simple words, and create a sweet, heartwarming story that is riveting from beginning to end.}

_{Featured by doodlerTM}

Air HeadI looked out the passenger-side window at the cloudless blue sky, anxiously beating my palms against the dashboard. The air was still and warm, though not hot, and a queasy ball of squirming anticipation roiled in my gut.
"Just let me out."
Mom sighed, her fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel. "Be patient, all right? We're already past the post office, the mall's only two blocks away."
"I'm gonna be late for work!"
"Not for another half hour."
I stretched my neck as high as I could while sitting, trying to see an end to the Friday afternoon traffic jam. Not a car was moving as far  as I could see.
"At least let me get out and look around," I whined.
Moms huffed and started to reply, but I was already out of my seatbelt and squeezing through the window into the September sky.
I managed to float about thirty feet straight up before Moms called my cell.
"You get down here right now!"
"Mom! God! Why do you make me sit in traffic with you?"
"If I have to drive you to w

Air Head by KwisatzHaddascratch

_{A delightful fantasy about flying.}

Foreign Language

_{Featured by: Malintra-Shadowmoon}

Die Linde vor dem ToreLehn Dich an mich,
Wanderin,
wenn Du müde bist
und Deine Reise noch so weit.
Lehn Dich an mich,
ich werde rauschen
und wieder Lieder flüstern mit dem Wind.
Ich werde stark sein
und Dich beschützen
vor allem Sturm und Unbill dieser Welt.
Ich werde stark sein
und unverrückbar,
lehn Dich an mich, vertrau, ich geb Dir heute Halt.
Und wenn die Nacht kommt,
will ich für Dich wachen,
damit Du Deine Träume weiterlebst.
Und dann am Morgen geb
ich Dir für Deine Reise
ein buntes Blatt mit, dass Du mein gedenkst.

"Die Linde vor dem Tore" by fantom125

_{Beautiful free verse poem, inspired by FedersStrich poem "Dryade" and an old German folk song "Der Lindenbaum - Am Brunnen vor dem Tore"}

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~ The DailyLitRecognition Team ~

_{Prepared by: doodlerTM}