Daily Lit Recognition for November 5^th, 2014

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Poetry

_{Featured by: AyeAye12}

A terrified wallet looks at the grinning billboardThere shall be a bar
(where I will never go)
where coins laugh like the greatest joke
just sent all comedians into the street with an ophidian cup
and a cardboard screaming for something to calm the roar under the bellybuttons.
There might be, who knows,
a bar where proud pockets,
succesful pockets and self-made credit cards,
make the glasses sing and sparkle like a wonderful date,
and one feels inside a commercial,
and the pride of greening checks, how great,
ones that become twos and threes and fives,
makes people focus on the table, 
far from the windows,
far from the cold footsteps 
of those who chew on their classified ads.
The poor girl, always small
and wimpering, scared puppy, 
in your pockets closed watched by five anguished
madmen.
Trickle by trickle, coin by coin,
your month bleeds away
while everybody else widens their evenings
and there are cheers,
and toast
(you only gobbled up some chesse:
Doc says you gotta keep an eye on those colis
having a blast in you

A terrified wallet looks at the grinning billboard by oviedomedina

_{Featured by: chromeantennae}

:thumb488443585:

Hide by Chrysalite

_{The subtle but strong emotion of this}

_{sets the scene and the imagery puts you}

_{right in the middle of it. Gorgeous poem.}

Prose

_{Suggested by: toxic--sunrise}

_{Featured by: betwixtthepages}

The Ozymandias Principle (Sandbox Jenga)Ginny always had a penchant for destroying things.
At the age of four, she was introduced to blocks (perhaps a devastating mistake on her preschool teacher’s part.) The brightly-colored wooden shapes held a certain fascination for her. While her classmates took a simple childish glee in building things up and knocking them down again, Ginny looked on their ways with disdain. She would carefully create an elaborate structure, and pull out all the key pieces until only a bare framework was left, shivering on the edge of collapse. Then she would tap on just one, or blow on it with her mouth, and the whole skeleton would come crumbling down.
Her parents often commented that if she had been born a decade or two earlier, she could have made a fortune by inventing Jenga. As it was, she was never very good at the game. She didn’t particularly like setting it all up- all she knew was that she had to build it before she could break it.
~
When she was seven, her Sunday school had a pi

The Ozymandias Principle (Sandbox Jenga) by akrasiel

_{This short story examines human nature--}

_{and how easy it is to cause chaos--}

_{with a few well-chosen words.}

_{Featured by: Rose-Em}

Version 1.2: Tips for improving your writing.Hey there, folks!
  Now I'd like to start this off by stating these tips and bits of advice are not going to turn you into a fantastic writer, and some of it may not even suit you; they may help you improve your story, roleplaying, and every-day writing however. As with anything you get progressively better with practice and experience, so I thought I would share things that I found particularly insightful during the nearly fifteen years I began taking writing more seriously. I'm no famous author and I still have plenty of things to work through myself, but if I can help someone the way other folks helped me then it's worth writing this up.
Let's start with some small steps...
  Back in Grade Ten I had this fantastic English teacher who just wanted us to be less lazy with our writing, because let's face it... Fifteen year olds are pretty lazy. She brought up two important points that have stuck with me all these years

Version 1.2: Tips For Improving Your Writing by Pavnix

_{If you need helpful tips, 
here is your river of knowledge!}

_{Featured by: OfOneSoul}

Clip ClopThe train sleepily pulls into the train station at 10.30pm. I close my book and slide it into my bag before standing up and walking towards the train doors. I stifle a yawn as I step onto the platform and make my way to the station’s exit. “I need to stop putting in so much overtime”, I think to myself. I can barely stand up I feel so tired. The station is deserted except for one or two other commuters waiting on the various train platforms.
As I reach the exit and begin my walk down the main road, I coerce my earphones into my ears and select ‘shuffle’ on my ipod. ‘The Sound of Silence’ by Simon and Garfunkel begins to play. The only sounds I can hear outside of my earphones are the noises of impatient traffic, my shoes hitting the pavement and the rhythmic movement of my crisp suit swishing as I walk.
The autumnal air is unpleasant against the nakedness of my face and brings a chill to my spine. I skip the song on my ipod, in need of a song m

Clip Clop by CupofCharlie

_{A creepy story that will keep you on}

_{the edge of your seat and stimulate your}

_{hearing in a horrifying way.}

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~ The DailyLitRecognition Team ~

_{Prepared by: betwixtthepages}