The final tally for today: 21 submissions! I wish I had time to break the count down further, but please do enjoy your awesomeness!
Again, a reminder that most of the excerpts and even the images do not represent the entire piece in their original context. Please follow the links to get the best experience.
Previous gallery:
Kuri, two comic haiku (first one below):
With flashlights they may
Find the Hermit; they won’t find
Illumination
Patrick, poem:
Offer me something beautiful
I’ll break your heart, and make you ache
It is not my intention to hurt you
I’m just waiting for my next mistake
Elaine, personal essay:
How many people comment about the serial killer next door, “He was always so quiet. Kept himself to himself.”
I did grow to enjoy the company of others. I spent less and less time alone, and mostly didn’t regret it. There was school and work and nights out with friends. But there were still those times when I Just. Needed. To. Be. Alone.
Christie, personal reflection/calligraphy/sketch:
Bored in Vernal, digital art:
Greg, webcomic:
John Ballantrae, Tarot reading:
Card 2 is the present. You have changed, and are more thoughtful now.You have aged. While you used to think that action was the solution, you now accept that thoughtful relfection is a valid means for making progress -and probably it is a superior method. The main question is: How will you use your personal creative energy?
Erin G., personal reflection:
My reaction was:
“Gah!”
I did not like this picture at all.
thmazing, image:
Sandra, paper fortune teller:
PizzoC, iPhone sketch:
Wendy, sketch:
Melissa, facebook photo:
Galen, daily sketch:
John, 365 self portrait:
Sarah, improv music piece:
[podcast]http://www.mindonfire.com/images/Improv1-2.mp3[/podcast]
kayteegee, personal reflection:
For a massive population center, a place where people go to live among other people, this city is a lonely place. They all are, so far as I can tell. Even when they’re walking among one another, or packed into subway cars like human sardines, they don’t really see one another. It’s like they’re all made of saran wrap or something. They’re see-through. And if they’re mostly transparent, I’m completely invisible.
Alana, poem, “Dreamer’s Song”:
Go visit him in dreams to learn,
(Christian, Muslim, Pagan)
More than you ought – your brain will burn!
Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fhtagn.
Kevin, twitter poem:
Now is the Double Gloucester of our discontent; dragonflies carry my heart away to their secret layers; whither shall you find me?
DavidK, creative writing piece:
I followed the sound, the song, the speech into a deep place, a place of leaves and red shadows. There are darknesses here that last all through the day; the acute angles of sunlight at dawn and dusk or the full blare of noon are never sufficient to pierce through the canopy, leaving patches of shadow that have not been dispelled in a hundred, a thousand years.
Danielle, fiction:
There was one final embellishment, one that Erin surely didn’t know about when she asked Kevin, by then a junior in high school, if she could have his old backpack and one Keving must have forgotten about: inside one of the pockets, where he apparently though no one would see, he had written F U C K in block letters.
