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Featuring those who submitted to the previous writing prompt from Live-Love-Write, here are the participants for this week, listed in reverse order of submission, along with information on the newest prompt. Please remember to fave this journal to help support your work and the prompt!

To submit to the writing prompt, please remember to put "for the Live-Love-Write writing prompt" in your artist's comments and submit to the Writing Prompt gallery for your feature every week. Entries without this info will be denied. To submit to a past prompt, send us a note with a link to the entry and the prompt information.

All literature and comics in response to the prompt are welcome and encouraged.

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Last Week's Writing Prompt

Respond to the following theme:

Fire

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Admin's Choice:

Mature Content

38. Burning UpIt traces the words that escape his lips
And outlines the touch of his fingertips;
It lives within his striking dark brown eyes:
A blazing fire that never dies.
It laces the breath that he exhales;
His touch leaves delicate burn mark trails.
As his lips capture mine and the sparks erupt,
I wonder, "Why he isn't burning up?"

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Poetry

FireSpotted dog and a big white truck
I would never ride.
Miles of hose and photos
I was never in.
A radio in the house
crackling all hours
about fire or potential fire
in our town.
And every day at six came the radio's test
The same test year after year
Funny that I can't remember
the words any more.
You always went to the fire department
when you didn't want
to be with us
and you played checkers
and told stories.
Once a year at Christmas
You would take us there
to prove you had a family
And I always wanted to slide down the pole
but you never let me.
Do you regret denying
the small wishes I had,
the ones you could have made
come true?
At least I got to wear
the hat and boots
the jacket. I knew the fear
of listening to dangerous fires
as they happened and wondering if
you would ever come home.
You always did
for a little while
before your restless feet
took you out the door again.
Volunteer, not paid, and you did much
good for others.
That is what I try to remember
when I hear the word, F Fire (Writing Prompt)Flames lick upward,
Illuminate the sky with
Red -- but from the ashes
Elm saplings will soon rise Torchlight AffectionStrips of paper, powder or kindling -
Also began with a thought or an inkling.
While a match lit - may eventually burn out,
True love like old Faithful will always spout.
As a squeezeful of gasoline may make a flame grow higher,
My adulation for you will remain in my heart as an eternal fire. :thumb388720362: He WasHe's a match.
He's burnt.
Burnt right on to a crisp.
He was a flame
just waiting to be quenched.
He was.
He was.
I strike
and strike again;
he won't light.
The match is used.
The fire is gone.
I continue to strike,
however,
because I see
a match
with potential
to be recycled,
remade,
and re-lit.
The fire can return.
The fire will return. Self-consuming FireI feel it…
My blood boiling within my veins
My fists closing with this furious violence
Rage grows from the depth of my soul
There's flames, there's shadows, there's phantoms
Feverishly dancing in this self-consuming fire…
I can't take it anymore!
I've got fever and I keep dying
Nobody…Not even Him can slow me down.
OH. I want you to care. How I wish you to care.
Love me! Make me alive! Feed this self-consuming fire!
I'm disappearing but I don't mind!
My place is not here.
I'm leaving! Send me a sign while I pack my bags and move to Hell
I'm tired! I'm tired of your indifference! I'm done with your apathy.
Surrender! Surrender to this self-consuming fire!
You left me behind. Now watch your world fade away!
Kiss your beloved ones goodbye! It's time to set apart!
I'm moving to Hell
Can't you see how it's consuming me?
Your warm touch can't affect me anymore
I'm lost! I'm burning in my insanity!
I'm moving to HELL!
Fervent flames show me the way!
Oh..But why?
Why woul InspirationThe destruction she causes is her own doing
Because she is so reliant on that spark
That one spark that gives her a reason to live
And try to be happy
But I don’t believe she understands
That as the cliché goes
If you play with fire
You will get burned
Do not get me wrong
That spark is what she needs
To keep her eyes looking up
And her fingers always typing
But I worry for her existence
Because I am but a single puff of smoke
From the blazing fire
In which she has unknowingly gotten herself
Engulfed Flaming LoveSuch beautiful shades
Locking my gaze
Blissfully dancing
In a smokey haze
Back and forth
It sways and sways
Entrancing me
With its lovely ways
A mixture of orange and red
Like the ripest of peaches
Right to my head
The flame reaches
Grasping my hands
With the sharpest of burns
Placing me in a dance so grand
With eloquent twists and turns
A burning desire
Like no other
Whilst this fire dies out
I light another Drowned in FireFire, fire all around.
How could you let me drown?
Fire sweeping to and fro.
Why am I so cold?
Your passion swept me off my feet
Until again we could meet.
But here I sit, frozen through;
I never should have loved you.
For when the time came to test your devotion,
You left me here with one fiery motion.
The fire you left me with rages still,
But I never even got my fill.
Though I am surrounded by passionate fire,
I feel that it is my funeral pyre.
The passion you ignited has not died down,
And amidst this fire I feel like I have drowned.
My chest is tight, I cannot breathe,
And all my muscles begin to seize.
How could you do this, tell me true?
How could you let me love you?
Fire sweeps and billows all around,
But in my sorrow I have drowned. Siren of Firewhen you take my hand,
you, child, are playing with fire
                                                       hand me your heart
                                                           and to have it b r o k e n
                                       & FireThe orange beast roars,
Its flickering tongues
Touching everything it passes,
Feeding off it so
The beast can grow, can multiply.
Wherever it goes,
Destruction is left in its wake.
Some attempt to tame the beast;
Men in red trucks, sirens blaring,
Donning thick uniforms that withstand
The beast's incinerating touch.
The beast will not be calmed.
It swallows the men whole,
Without a second thought.
But finally, the beast's reign
Comes to an end.  The Heavens
Will not allow it to continue.
Angels gather in the sky,
Dressed all in white,
And their tears combined
Rain down on the beast's skin.
The beasts hisses and writhes,
The Holy water burning its
Unholy form.  The tears
Reduce it to nothing, until
Nothing but ash remained.
The fire was strong,
But He was stronger.

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Prose

StarfallOn the History of Starfall/Chapter 2: Ground Zero/Pg.13
The following was taken from a journal recovered within the vicinity of Ground Zero. The author is unknown.
*
To be still breathing after witnessing something like that, that is perhaps the worst consequence of all this. If I was dead I wouldn’t be sitting in the ruins of what may once have been a house, tired, thirsty and all the other things disaster survivors usually are. But there are parts that news reports and history books kind of glaze over.
Uncertainty, that’s the worst of it.
I know what happened, or at least I know what I remember happening, but that somehow muddies things up even more. For instance, I know the sky turned red one day, just out of the literal blue, becoming this blood/ruby shade. Then came the fire.
It just fell, seemingly from nowhere, right down out of the sky. Great gouts and streams of the stuff that threw off these little embers that burned up fast and trailing smoke Another day in the life page01“I hate having to work late like this...” I complained as we approached a door in an old rundown apartment building.
“Then quit.” Responded my partner, a fierce little thing of a girl.
My dog, a shepherd, wagged his tail like an idiot. When things got dirty that dog is always serious, but any other time and he seems oblivious to the world around him. I guess that comes from being undead and all.
My partner and I took our places at the sides of the door and she rapped it with the backs of her knuckles, the chain of her family locket making a little noise. No sound came from within so we nodded to each other and I quickly kicked the door in. We both rushed into the room like it was nobody's business and found ourselves met with total darkness. Bringing my right hand up a short distance from my chest I lit a fireball in it and cupped it like a wine goblet. The room immediately lit up with the flickering light of my fire while I grinned like a child with his favorit

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This week's writing prompt, from July 31 to August 10, is:

Write anything that features one or more of the following:
- a wall that cannot be crossed
- three people crying
- a river
- the phrase "Do you hear that?"