Christmas feature extravaganza + winner + life

Hello everybody! Time for some christmas fun! Today's journal (as well as the rest during the coming three months) are sponsored by
the Poetry pro!
Without him this journal wouldn't look half as interesting as it does now. So thank you Ronald!

Tonight's journal will be mostly about others, which means features, features, features! ...and some notes about me in the end.

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The Critique guide contest over at came to an end two weeks ago, and I promised I would feature the winner, so it should be about time now. Sorry for the wait man!

Argolith won the competition with this finely written guide on criticising photographs:

I suggest you go and read it and then turn to his gallery to put his guide to the test. Why not try it out on some of these?





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In Sweden we celebrate Christmas on the eve, and since it's well past twelve here it's about time to start giving out presents. I've decided to put my subscription present to good use by featuring one piece from each of my watchers! Take your pic, and don't you dare skip the lit just because they look all grey and boring!
Here goes!
:thumb115805632: Death2Some view death as dark and sad,
              but I don't see it as that bad.
              As for me I see it from another angle,
              I see death with lots of angles.
              Those that we've lost in some way,
              We'll eventually see another day.
              What will we make it to be,
              You will have to wait and see. :thumb5280641: :thumb61333557: More Than a MomentRelatively random but fatally fun.
Planting swift kisses on each others noses
I picked 69 prickly roses,
One for each day we’ve been one.
A beautiful bouquet---
Prevalent purple. Blossoming blue,
All because this is true,
I love You. A Preacher in the TrafficWe will ignore every yield
all the way to the sun,
light to yellow light, careful either to kiss
our knuckles to the ceiling of the car
or pray to Saint Christopher--
whatever ritual will comfort us
with the illusion of safety
as we pass urgently through each intersection.
It’s an escape from this hellish heat,
the sort that only air-conditioning can bring,
fan blasting on full, mocking the radiation outside.
The threat of being forever sealed
to the earth's infant layer
of cement and tar and ground stone
gave way to unreasonable hope
that the white-hot steam of some imagined liftoff
would somehow propel them from the earth
but for now, the car won’t start
the air is sticky
and we are expanding,
forming some unholy union with our seats,
gelling in our perspiration
that must be evaporating faster than
it can cool us down. :thumb81248604: :thumb96530879: My Life Regainedout of the darkness
of the forgotten world
into the light
of the new world
the wind blows
my hair
the sun shines
my day
the clouds finely
goes away
my pass
is forgotten
when i look at the
true meaning
of living
i forgot
that i breath
that i see
that i am living
all if lost
all will gain
the true reason
i sustain is
my real life
awaken from
the dark night
my life is regained July Haiku-Thon 20091.
starry night...
our glowworm jar
remains empty
2.
midnight bus
the door swings open
to moonlight
3.
sunlit clouds
a lesson from my niece
on dragons
4.
Confederate battlefield
a teenage couple
making out
5.
funeral flowers
       a butterfly stops
at the red one
6.
day's end...
the hospital nurse
takes a smoke break
7.
summer mountain
a starling dives
into sunset
8.
roadside beggar
the BMW
lurches forward
9.
hazy moon...
a jewel beetle finds
my earlobe
9(b).
hazy moon-
I follow her lead
into Salsa
10.
wild oranges
the photo of a girl
I once kissed
11.
childhood room
the story of my life
on wire hangers
12.
sunrise...
my father settles
into lotus
13.
noon downpour
a rainbow trickles
into the gutter
14.
reading Marx
another moth burns
in the zapper
15.
factory strike
the newscaster pans
to a baby
16.
summer dusk
a pink bra leaves
with the tide
17.
morning moon
in the tourist shop
2 dollar starfish
17(b)
distant thunder
a heron wanders
the roadway
18. :thumb124481964: Drinking StarsDrinking Stars
If only the stars could see
a fraction of their brilliance
I see reflected on still waters
of Walden Pond.  Perhaps they too
would come to love their light.
I long to drink them in,
but the depth of my cupped palm
is inadequate to contain them.
As the water dribbles out
I am left licking the salt
from my flesh with thick tongue.
Tiny lake fish mistake them
for breadcrumbs I sometimes bring-
nibbling open-mouthed at the surface
then sulking, gills flared, to chilly caves
hungry tonight.  My thirst deepens.
                                                     T. Scott Fisher :thumb127578299: :thumb132430732: December 2009 Poetry Journal
31
   through frosted glass
Mars glows warmly
   the future dawns —
30
   my old friend
once again
   blue moon
29
   piercing
the pre-dawn silence
   snowplow's haunting calls
28
   for facing
insurmountable snow drifts
   a crown of frost
27
   spinning she discards
shimmering veils of snow
   Winter Queen
26
   the dogs quiver
excitedly by the door
   snow!
25
   so much snow
and nowhere to go —
   cabin fever
24
   around the feeder
crowd a feathered potpourri
   relentless snow
23
   "Se7en"
and "Elmo in Grouchland"
   on the same shelf …
22
   untangling
Christmas tree decorations,
   old memories
21
   stars shiver
in the frigid heavens
   :thumb133321870: HuntedI dash through shifting dusk...
relentless gusts
halt me against my will
in mid-crossing of a
wide city street-
hunted game leaning into and
wavering from each blast,
determined
to keep my feet planted
as wax jitters in my ears,
fighting vertigo,
knowing any second
the wind will up-end me,
to be at its mercy
or lack of, from its
sadistic wordplay
and deafening howl,
keeping me off-center
in the encroaching darkness
thick with broken shale-
as the hind muscles burn
from a crouch I've assumed,
a moment's sense
of false security
while it sucks in a breath,
to expel, and propel me
into on-coming traffic,
with a lifetime
(my lifetime)
flashing through eyelids
in sync with the
locked gaze of high beams
bearing down on
a doe during the rut... Night Sky TankaPaddle dips, and
diamond shards scatter
breaking moon's path,
the reflection, the night sky in water-
surrounding me with stars. :thumb146649308: Text MeShort little lines
Of just a few syllables
Nothing really said
Over nonexistent phone cables
It’s fun to talk
In quick little bursts
But sarcasm doesn’t translate
When you don’t truly converse
Talking through text
Is like asking for trouble
If you’re not careful
It’ll leave your life in rubble :thumb145153582: :thumb125399457: Jesus Bleibet meine Freude"Just chemicals and neurons firing in a pattern that makes you feel good at the right moments," I answered. "Stop worrying so much about it."
"You've never had a girlfriend, have you?" Dan muttered, not bothering to take out his cigarette.
"I'm self-sufficient," I replied.  Neither of us were really paying full attention.  "Whatever it comes down to, I can do it myself."
"Mm, mm," he said back, checking his phone.  "You didn't answer the question."
"That's beside the point," I said.
"No it's not," Dan said back, punching out a quick text back before shoving his phone back in his pocket. "You wouldn't think that way if you weren't a shut-in."
"I might be a shut-in, but that's not the point," I answered.  "The point is there's no such thing as love."
"You're so pessimistic," Dan muttered, tossing his spent butt into the snow.  He reached for his lighter as he pulled out a new one.
"Not pessimistic," the girl sitting at the table before us :thumb123096387:   Writing Tips - Organisation
Writing Without Confusing Yourself (Or Your Readers)
Writing is a very personal, individual undertaking. Everybody approaches the activity a bit differently from the next guy. Some people can come up with concept, plot, characters, and everything else and just sit down and write. Others need to take time to figure out what's going on; what's going to happen in the story, and how it all fits together. Others still will find themselves getting stuck somewhere along the middle, losing track of everything or changing an idea mid-way through, or never know how to end. These are the people for whom this has been put together. Those of you who can barrel through a story overnight are still welcome to look, though.
Intro:
There are different ways in which a writer can and will get stuck on any given piece. Motivation, immediate environment, too few (or too many) ideas available, lack of organisation; the list goes on, but life is short and I am lazy. The sticking point that we're going We Are VertebratesFingers tracing up
My spine. Count the vertebrae
As you go along. Haiku - 2a lazy song
on a long night
meow Free MonkeyI saw a monkey in an hot air balloon today at work. He was slowly gaining altitude; still close enough for us to comfortably hear each other.
‘Hullo!’ I said, ‘A fine day for an aero-expedition.’
‘Quite so. And what are you up to?’ he queried.
‘Nothing. Working. Shaving my soul out, as with a cheese grater, and handing it to people in the form of a fake smile.’
‘Oh. That sounds positively terrible. Enjoy it. Cheerio.’
And off he flew. There was a very short time when I could have grabbed onto one of the ropes and pulled myself up and gone with him to the Exotic, but I stopped, wondering ‘Who would watch the money?’
Who indeed?

Phiew! That was all. Not that many, but it sure took some time to pick which to feature... Merry christmas to you all!

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On a personal note, I'm feeling tired and broken and need to go to bed. School's going fine, just one exam left. Still finding it a bit odd that the fall semester ends in January...
Tomorrow it's off to celebrate christmas with my folks who just moved south to this city some weeks ago. My brother and his son will be joining us, so I know at least one of us that's getting presents.

Good night! And thanks for watching.