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About Literature / Hobbyist Core Member Shehroze Ameen26/Male/Germany Groups :iconpoeticalcondition: PoeticalCondition
A safe place to express yourself
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Deviant for 6 Years
9 Month Core Membership
Statistics 485 Deviations 30,147 Comments 71,721 Pageviews

Commissions

Short Story Commissions
Short Story Commissions being accepted now.

Payment to be made only after the idea, the way the story should progress, or the twist is finalized.

World limit: Minimum: 800, Maximum: 3000

Time Frame per commission: minimum 1 month, maximum 2 months

I only accept payment through :points:. In case you have a very specific idea you want me to write about, hit me up through notes.

As part of the commission, you'll be submitted drafts showing progress made, with changes, character development, story development, and any additional perks you want incorporated. When works will be published, the commissioning party will bear copyrights to it under a Creative Commons License 3.0, and can do with it as they please.

This commission does not accept works for OCs, fan fiction, erotica, BDSM, or furries.
Poetry Commission
Specifications: none, unless you would like a specific form to be followed.
Themes: epic, slice of life, stream of consciousness, or historic.

Previous commissions: shehrozeameen.deviantart.com/g…

Details need to be provided via note, inclusive of whether they should be based on a drawing of yours, OC belonging to you, or are a dedication.

Deadlines: unless specified, I try finishing my commissions as quickly as possible. They could either take a week (for works which are at least 19 lines) or a month (for works which are greater than 30 lines). Maximum I've ever gone is two months for a commission.

Random from pretty words, read with an empty mind

Literature
On Shehroze
From the day we met
to now when we're seas apart
we've seen highs and lows
From lads to young men we've grown
like brothers, come rain or sun
:icondanny-mechanist:danny-mechanist
:icondanny-mechanist:danny-mechanist 6 2
Literature
Tranche de vie, au travail
Je ne célèbre jamais la fête des mères, et je ne supporte pas les enfants.
Ha ça plante un sacré décor, n'est ce pas ? Direct, cash, pan dans les dents, zou à la trappe l'icône de la maman et de la fââââmme aimante porteuse de vie, on s'imagine directement la vieille fille acariâtre, confite dans son fiel, un chat étique sur les genoux et engueulant les enfants qui auraient le malheur de passer sous mes fenêtres ?
Ajoutez à cela une moue renfrognée permanente et une voix aigrelette exhortant à "Laisser la Fraaaance aux François de Francie" et on a le carré gagnant, la quinte flush du cliché! XD
Et bien non, bien au contraire.
J'aime les gens, et j'ai toujours envié, jalousé ( hou le vilain sentiment que voilà) ceux et celles de mes amis qui avaient une famille aimante ou à tout le moins unie. Je n'ai jamais connu cela, juste la douleur sèche des gifles
:iconspadiekitchenqueen:spadiekitchenqueen
:iconspadiekitchenqueen:spadiekitchenqueen 9 46
Literature
El Amor
El Amor
El amor es cómo una rosa,
Hermoso, pero doloroso...
Porque lastimamos a las personas
Que más amamos...
Aparte de eso, el amor duele.
Duele cuando no podemos estar con
La gente que queremos...
Y también duele cuando amamos más
De lo que nos quieren.
Si, el amor es cómo una rosa,
Fuerte y frágil al mismo tiempo...
Porque defendemos a los
Que queremos y cuando la gente
Que amamos están lastimados
Nos duele mucho...
:iconcholie:cholie
:iconcholie:cholie 3 17
Literature
A Kiss to End the Day
One kiss you give me, and thus, end my day;
Though I am sad, my smile is bright.
With your hand in mine, while the night turns gray,
The world becomes warm and all is now right.
How reluctant I am to turn away,
To leave you lonesome beneath the starlight;
One kiss you give me, and thus, end my day,
And once more, softly, to wish me good night.
:iconMordial33:Mordial33
:iconmordial33:Mordial33 7 3
Literature
Efforts and Opposites
One cannot win the race while one is sitting in the stands;
One cannot mend the broken without dirtying one’s hands;
One cannot dry the tears if one will not share in the pain;
One cannot save the wounded without looking on the slain;
One cannot see doors opened up if one will not first knock,
Nor understand time’s passing just by staring at one’s clock;
One cannot know sweet respite if one will not know the strain;
One never shall be Abel if one always acts like Cain;
One cannot know the light except that one first knows the dark,
Nor feel the fire’s warmth if one will not first strike a spark.
:iconFeanor-the-Dragon:Feanor-the-Dragon
:iconfeanor-the-dragon:Feanor-the-Dragon 3 1
Literature
Ready to Swoon
Under the arch of Apollo we stand.
Beneath the moon, hand in hand.
A shimmer of rose gold on my cheek.
A sudden slump in my physique.
A blackout, then a dart in my breast.
Your shoulder serving as a headrest.
Under the arch of Artemis we lie.
Her failed endeavor to make me die.
:iconBreath-of-Nefertari:Breath-of-Nefertari
:iconbreath-of-nefertari:Breath-of-Nefertari 11 15
Literature
The Five Stages Of Silence
I. 

"I love you" 

The static sounds like rain in my head,
I imagine a small handed God
shielding us with his constant melody -
they don't remember,
tomorrow is your favorite day
and I promised to show you the lilies,
don't be silly now,
turn the lights back on,
wake up.
My fists at your chest 
are two hearts
beating fast. Wake up.
The morning prayer 
quivers obsessive 
between our bodies,
nobody understands 
how my lips are made holy
by the light skin of your temple,
wake up wake up wake up.


II.


"I love you"
 
Fire laps at oxygen 
with passionate tongues,
taking in every drop 
of its feverish scent
until on their wake 
only anger is left,
a teeth quaking breath,
a cry for lost air.
The sky is a blur,
as vultures begin
a soundless waltz
one orphan question 
running in circles
brims the hourglass, 
breaks the cage -
I’m swallowing sand,
my knuckles are
:iconAlwaysRainCheck:AlwaysRainCheck
:iconalwaysraincheck:AlwaysRainCheck 38 26
Literature
Vengeful sun
I’ve always been the hunter but
they think I am an innocent soul.
I am but the son of myself
The sum of myself - of my atoms and parts
and the blaze in my ethereal flesh.
Sun of my own existence
Moon of my own life
Stars of my own destiny
The bow, the arrow, are mine
The cross is broken on my forehead
Tied by a ribbon of blood holding back the
hair that gives me strength
The truth has always been: I give myself strength
An ouroboros of never ending incandescence
Dust falls from my feet
for I have shaken away the world
And blood drips from my chest where the lance cut my holiness
once.
:iconDeniseCroy:DeniseCroy
:icondenisecroy:DeniseCroy 3 5
Literature
To the Queen
To the queen without a crown,
whose hair is the color of ripe pecans:
do not let your circumstances quiet you;
though you lack the riches many consider
necessary to rule a realm,
even if that realm is nothing more
than snow-smothered pine
fused with hints of vanilla custard,
the inner workings of your mind
are chalices emblematic of the sunlight.
And you, my queen, need no title.
:iconBreath-of-Nefertari:Breath-of-Nefertari
:iconbreath-of-nefertari:Breath-of-Nefertari 11 17
Literature
at midnight.
I lost you
in darkness, in stumbling alcoholism
the words tumbling over each other
end on end
the breaths tumbling inside my lungs
tripping over each other
in darkness
cascading
wide-eyed, bloodshot words
spilling from my lips, spat from my heart
leaking out of cracks, crevices, corners
wreckage
and the way home was unclear,
debris-strewn
star-struck
alone.
:icon91816119:91816119
:icon91816119:91816119 11 3
Literature
Their sinful Valkyrie
        - A Beauty of sins
She drives men into blind abysses,
These rats run across the maze of expectation
And try to climb this perfumed Babel Tower.
Their Ragnarök is already lost ;
She, whose radiance is no myth,
Stands far upon the human world.
        - The Shepherdess
They took themselves as four-leaf clovers
Gifted her of millions of edelweiss bouquets.
Yet they meant nothing to her, less than cattle,
Yet lost in masses of brainless sheeps
Led by the baton of her tuneful voice,
Such a sweet slow lobotomy!
Disillusioned tears are falling... Petty humans
Stuck forever in the Spider Queen's net.
        - Divine Valkyrie
An acid rain for their stupid dried humanity,
Cursed fools sent themselves to the gallows
Sold friends and family to the Elysium,
Even betrayed their own Gods and beliefs
Willing to be part of a new Valhalla,
Just for her.
All she had to do was smile. 
:iconWhitePlumFragrance:WhitePlumFragrance
:iconwhiteplumfragrance:WhitePlumFragrance 44 35
Literature
divine overture of sunrise
The divine overture of sunrise
Beneath Lucifer, orange glow
Getting more intense before my eyes
and I feel today's hope grow.
But sun is not coming up yet
teasing me with her light
And the green hidden catches my eye
When, finally, will end the night?
Music's building, pomping up loud
The orchestra really touches the hearts of the crowd.
French Horns, Violins, myriads of these!
For those who hear it, solist sun brings ease.
Fat fiery beauty's red spotlight is there
Can't wait any longer, tension's palpable in the air.
Divine overture of sunrise
Is collapsing when it luminates my face.
And with this golden shine I survive another day,
I know by my gaze.
:iconTrafalgarNolan:TrafalgarNolan
:icontrafalgarnolan:TrafalgarNolan 3 8
Literature
The War Of Love And Death
Stars like pinpricks in my eyes,
the mist shackles about my ankles
as I walk through the field
I realize the cold on my lips,
licking the frosty air of the deepest night.
Breathing in my teeth hurt,
my hands would be blue if I
could see them
Icy is the wind that shocks my lungs
as I breathe in
and shiver.
The smell of the dying grass
in Winter's choking grasp,
The midnight sky like watery velvet
the snow shifting underneath,
feeling cool soak in through my
leather boots
chilling my feet.
As I walk through sentinel pines
quiet as snow softly begins to fly,
not so much seen as felt like fingers
on my flesh prompting a shudder
in my bones.
Silent like the grave I reach the hill
under my feet the angle change,
slowly ascending
beginning to shiver
feet sullen relenting
I crest the ridge as the horizon
turns green like lace around
a black cloaked sky.
The light rises and stings my eyes
squeezed shut by the sudden pain
shuddering through my mind.
Eternity has driven me mad
I tire of this eart
:iconsmokedragon:smokedragon
:iconsmokedragon:smokedragon 1 0
Literature
Of Half-Filled Words
She is not a flutterbird.
Her fingers are skittish,
her smile is not.
Do not fear that you will
drive it away.
Sadness is her fumbling limb.
It is unwanted, yet
necessary.
When it is January
she will tell you,
"I am still struggling.
And I am becoming so many people
all at once.
A conglomeration of beauty that
I have managed to mangle.
Please, do not be sad for me."
Sometimes her sorrow is
meant for you. But mostly her.
Those specks and spots
of ocean storm lulls
reveal her truths:
ones she does not want
to extract from herself.
Her heart is not a rabbit.
When it beats
faster, faster, faster,
you need not
run harder to catch it.
:iconHugQueen:HugQueen
:iconhugqueen:HugQueen 271 200
Literature
Empyrean
Momma said to never marry an astronaut,
they will always prefer the twinkling starlight
to the light in your eyes.
They'll only end up in ships that float
aimlessly in zero gravity and you will not be there.
Momma said to never marry an astronaut.
You will stand firmly on the earth,
clutching the ground and knowing
they will always prefer the twinkling starlight.
Planets will fracture and stars will collapse
long before he recognizes he can travel
to the light in your eyes.
:iconHugQueen:HugQueen
:iconhugqueen:HugQueen 227 110
Over the course of time that I have been here on dA, I've noticed that there is a trend either to write words which are fanciful as fuck with as little meaning as a dump in the loo, or the work itself tends to be so juvenile that I find it pointless to even bother.

This collection, though, is different. The words are pretty, but if you gloss through them then their meaning is lost. In a way, they're not the most exceptional or phenomenal works you can find here on dA, but they are well written because of how they are structured or how they carry themselves. There is a semblance of personal involvement in them, which may resonate with other readers.

With me... they're works I revert to, when I wish to read a work which is not insightful, but just fluidly presented. These poems, are fluidly presented.

Random from NotenSMSK

Literature
Cheap Tickets
Cheap tickets - very strong motivation indeed.
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 5 11
Literature
The Author
Writers paint pictures that painters can't.
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 54 60
Literature
Allegory
Alas, you are my Darkness redefined.
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 14 19
Literature
Kidnapped?
"While talking he got carried away."
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 26 39
Literature
The child in ragged shorts: The bicycle
A woman wearing a badly patched cream colored veil, held the hand of a little boy that wore a baggy shirt – that one would definitely guess was not his – and ragged shorts. It was a hot day; the side walk was sizzling while mirages could be seen over some distance. Mirages were rarely seen in the busy city and the boy felt a bugging curiosity in him as he tugged on his mother's veil.
"Look mama! There the road turns very shiny" he said with wide eyes. The woman smiled.
They were returning home from an errand; one of the woman's well off relative had been sick and she had gone over to tend to her, being the only acquaintance in the area. As gratitude for her help, she was sent off with some cash.
She sighed at the weight the paper notes added to her otherwise empty purse, remembering the image she had once had of a family. How close siblings would be when they grew up and helped each other in times… yet those were dreams and the extra notes in her purse represented realit
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 15 26
Literature
The child in ragged shorts: We share the food
The woman placed the candle on the small, creaking table and the small room she was sitting in came into view. There was a single chair, a battered mattress and a depression in the mud crafted wall, serving the purpose of a shelf. That was all that room contained. Their whole house consisted of this room and a small backyard.
The child in ragged shorts entered the room, pulling aside the hanging cloth that much like the one hung at the main entrance outside, did nothing more than to keep mosquitoes outside. It didn't serve that purpose well.
"Sit down dear, mama managed to get a treat today" the woman said, smiling warmly at the child as she held the small bag in front of the candle for the boy to see.
"It is a lot mama! Should we save some for the morning?" He asked, sitting next to her, bathing in the candle light. He was what most people would say a malnourished child with a poor sense of hygiene but for his mother he could not get any beautiful. She brushed away some sand from his
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 7 20
Literature
The child in ragged shorts: broth and the beggar
It was getting late. The sky was dark while the orifices in looming edifices managed to leak some of the moon light they were withholding. The woman hugged herself with the porous shawl that she was wearing, pressing the twenty-two rupees note again and again on the counter.
"Please, just for today; I do not have anymore money. I beg you" she pleaded but the person at the counter couldn't care less.
"That is three rupee short. I don't care if you beg. If you have anything else to put forward then do or get lost" he replied harshly, spit flying from his mouth. The woman retreated, a disgusted expression on her face.
"What more can I put forward after I put my self respect on the line by begging you"
He laughed spitefully and loudly before replying with a smirk "Things like that don't tarnish self respect of a woman you know."
"Then you don't know what self respect means!" she yelled and turned away, her frustration clearly reflected in her eyes as she stared at the twenty rupee note and
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 9 29
Literature
The child in ragged shorts: the special day
The child in ragged shorts sat down scrapping the sandy remains of cement from his wall. He hoarded it up and sat down in a corner of his derelict abode. Under the wavering shades of light that barely seeped through the dense clouds, the excited child started working on the small hoard he had managed to amass.
A woman, clothed in worn out attire covered by her loose shawl, pulled away the hanging shades that fell over the front door; protection only from prying eyes. She approached the boy in ragged shorts and placing the small plastic bag she was carrying on a creaking overhead shelf, sat down behind him.
"What are you doing dear" she whispered softly in his ear not wanting to startle the little child.
He quickly bent over not wanting the women to see whatever he was interested in.
"One moment mama" he said and the women giggled slightly, planting a kiss on his rough unkempt hair and sat back on the floor lighting a candle placed on a small table by her side. She sighed wondering how
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 11 22
Literature
The Diary: last goodbyes
                                      The Final day
        Boy                                             Girl
It was finally the graduation ceremony
a moment to be looking forward to...                  
                                         
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 17 91
Literature
Howling of the hounds
It wasn't late yet the night rejected all help that the moon submitted, draping it in the darkest of curtains available. Even in the scarcity of any ray, shone the red burning embers embedded in the sockets of hounds whose black coat blended with perfection in the night.
They hushed up as the escalating, rhythmic thud of hooves along the asphalt road reached them and their ears lowered while saliva dripping teeth tucked in. As the hounds sat down near the open gate entrance, the carriage passed through, adorned with the fine craftsmanship and decorated with fresh flowers and bells hanging from the quarter lights and ledge that lined the head of the carriage. It didn't meet the taste of the man that looked through his window at the guest's arrival.
A person with a thin mustache, wearing a white suit with a cloak that barely covered his fat, protruding stomach sat in the carriage, gazing with disdain at the whining hounds, scoffing; what purpose would such useless animals serve. He spat
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 23 29
Literature
A better mother
Time unravels – it's a fact of life. The words kept resonating in her mind as her stare traced the edges of the expensive NARS blush on marking her cheeks and the Sephora eyeliner that had been applied so precisely…
"Why do you go out with those boys? They are a bad lot! You-!"
"What the hell do you know you hag-"
"Watch your tongue, I am your mother! What if the gang takes you in an empty parking lot-"
"And what? Rape me?"
"With those vulgar things you wear, yes!"
"This is called brand, woman! You are an old ignorant lady, sewing mufflers for her daughter that she hates to wear; it's pathetic!"
"Is trying to protect you pathetic-"
"Yes it is! I just wish I had a better mother than you"
"A better mother? Better than one who prays for yo-"
"Yea, yea not listening!"
"You think you can do a better job than me the way you are?"
"Much better thank you, but I hope you are not alive to see!"
Charlotte's mother went silent. She broke into tears at the final statement, openl
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 37 51
Literature
Next time - remember me
Time seems to have been a reminder of how long it has been - it doesn't register as a feeling. I don't feel it has been long. But I know.
And my appearance has changed, it's daunting and more of what is considered mature. For I have matured. Or is that so?
And I hug them, my hug is warm and promising and loving, for it is a true hug. I say "Where have you been? Long have you been gone!"
They hug back and answer but I am unable to listen. For sad it is that I am the one asking. When I was the one gone.
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 9 23
Literature
Promise off a million stars
"A million..."

"Yes a million stars... perhaps there are more. You know what they remind me of?"


"What...?"


"Your birthday..."


"What of it...?"


"You know, I shall give you a million present-"


"Oh stop it!" She giggled "There is no way-"


"What if... I do?"


"Hmm... well I won't like that"


"Huh? Why not?"


"You see, if you give me a million presents together, there won't be anything to give on my next birthday. So give them slowly..."


"Like...?"


"Hmm... just one big present every birthday?"


She giggled again and traced the ground with her little fingers while
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 16 34
Literature
Dear Teen me
17th November 2012
Dear Teen SMSK,
How are you… ah, but I know the answer already. "Fine, I guess" wasn't it? You never strayed from those three words as a retort and you taught me so as well. I know you don't have time to read a letter. You have important ventures to take care of and while I don't deny them being important, just take a moment to read through, since I know that later on, you shall have all the time and though, being who we are, you shall say "I don't regret it", I can guarantee this letter shall nudge your curiosity till eternity. You are young, you will have far more important ventures.
You probably weren't expecting me to write to you, but now that you have received this letter and realized who it is from, you must be brimming with anticipation over the eloquence you might witness. Old habits still force me into verbose literature but time forced it to settle on a borderline so don't expect much from me. You probably are still in that effusive stage.
You know, your t
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 8 34
NotenSMSK is someone who has been around on dA for as long as I have, and his poems and prose are interesting to read - enlightening, have a clearly defined narrative, and are always able to provide new streams of thought in terms of stories or narratives.

An invaluable addition to my collection and to my fascination with writing.

Note: dA is incomplete if you have never read NotenSMSK. Everyone else around on this site is merely a snowflake :P *bring forth the trolls*

Random from Are good in the first read at least

Literature
Chapter I (Poem I)
From: Question (whether the Devil can tempt the lust of another by appearing in the shape of a beautiful woman)
Chapter 1 (the method by which a sorceress initiates the act of sorcery)
She read from a book
with fingered edges.
Each word peeled from her soul,
unwound in my ears like rope,
tightened around my heart
and pulled it up towards my throat.
It was a darkness I wanted to share,
so I said
‘show me’,
and she lit the candle.

:iconKellzWrites:KellzWrites
:iconkellzwrites:KellzWrites 12 6
Literature
One fine Samosa
One should definitely try a samosa. Its crunchy outer shell breaking against your teeth to let the flavors strike… however don’t buy just anything that is sold off the curb in the middle of the busy market for the people sitting around in semicircular (certainly unstable) benches, sipping tea and enjoying the samosa while watching the news are not sitting there because of the savory appetizer. It is because they don’t have much else to do. So unless those are the ranks one would like to join, I would recommend avoiding the temptation of eating just any samosa and beg it be treated more like Sushi – in the image that eating poorly made Sushi might make one cringe forever from a delicacy that – despite it being a delicacy – might have been appreciated more.
However not much to do while still sipping tea and enjoying a samosa has a certain appeal as well. It is then the conflict of these two distinctly tempting possibilities that has to be resolved befo
:iconNotenSMSK:NotenSMSK
:iconnotensmsk:NotenSMSK 5 21
Literature
A Perfect Gentleman
It wasn't anything I thought would be
The first time that we met
When Spring caressed the blooms & budding tree,
When I felt so alive, and yet
The way it was as he came down the street,
I held my beating breath,
The jacaranda petals 'neath my feet
Foretold a distant time, of death.
'Twas when he stepped before me, it was plain.
He took me by surprise,
But not just with a waist coat, gloves & cane;
Was that a smile behind those eyes?
A subtle manner equal to its bliss
That took my hand in flight.
His lips, to bow, to meet it with a kiss
And sudden brought the callous night.
Who's whispers of his voice became a roar
Within my startled head,
That dominated ev'rywhere it tore;
'Twas like the devil, from the dead.
And deepest depths he took me 'low my will,
To breach my ev'ry ban
That woke me where I endless slept, and still
He was a perfect gentleman.
:iconJade-Pandora:Jade-Pandora
:iconjade-pandora:Jade-Pandora 7 8
Literature
But We Can Brighten Tomorrow
A candleflame flickers in the darkness,
so small, and dim, and warmthless.
Today’s faint glimmer is lost and dying out;
There’s only darkness tomorrow.
 
    I still believe in yesterday’s values,
    I still believe in heroes of old,
    but those are passed, their power is all gone;
    Their light can’t brighten tomorrow.
 
A wounded heart lies broken in the darkness,
alone, afraid, unheeded.
The cruel, cold shadows are pressing all around
a dark, forsaken tomorrow.
 
    I still believe in yesterday’s values,
    I still believe in heroes of old,
    but they can’t change the heartbreaks of today;
    Their light can’t brighten tomorrow.
     
A lonely child is weeping in the darkness,
feebly moaning in grief and loss.
No one knows about the te
:iconFeanor-the-Dragon:Feanor-the-Dragon
:iconfeanor-the-dragon:Feanor-the-Dragon 1 1
Literature
Das Wolfstier
Der starke Wolf
denkt an seine Wölfin,
die fort ist, in weiter Ferne
Ach, was ist er traurig!
Wäre bei ihr, so gerne..
Und weiterhin wird sie warten,
und blickt sehnsüchtig in den Garten
In dem einst das Wolfstier stand,
mit dem sie sich im Innersten
auf Ewigkeit verband.
Und sie trägt ihr Sehnen hinaus in die Welt
bis der Wolf sich wieder zu ihr gesellt.
Doch bald hat das Warten ein Ende
Sein Leben nimmt nun eine Wende,
wenn er dem Ruf seiner Partnerin folgt
Und er mit Stolz an ihrer Seite steht
Sodass sein Sehnen, sein Leid, vergeht
Doch mein lieber Wolf
Sei darauf bedacht:
Gib auf deine Wölfin stetig Acht!
Sonst wird sie dir entflieh'n!
Denn bevor du ihr nicht beweist,
dass du nicht bellst, sondern beißt,
Wird sie sich dir vielleicht entziehen.
Und trotz allem Leid,
welches er ihr angetan',
begibt er sich auf seine letzte Reise.
Und seine Wiederkehr
Wird zur Neugeburt.
:iconcyriademonia:cyriademonia
:iconcyriademonia:cyriademonia 43 2
Literature
osmosis
osmosis
October 17, 2016
i'm     f
              a
                    l
                          l
                                i
                                       n
                                               g
                                                     d
                             
:iconcholie:cholie
:iconcholie:cholie 10 15
Literature
Dreams of Clay
Oh, would that my dreams were made of clay,
I'd sculpt them to suit my waking hours.
With Pygmalion's hands, I'd build my Galatea
And watch her come to life.
Let me clutch thee...I hold thee not!
:iconnightshade-keyblade:nightshade-keyblade
:iconnightshade-keyblade:nightshade-keyblade 51 51
Literature
Stardust: Gone and Forgotten
I am but a child of light, lost in nebulous skies.
where all elders float graciously
and cold stars are but a memory.
We implode, explode, ripple outwards…
Leaving nothing in our wake, except some stardust to remember us by.
Are we forsaken?
Victims of a cruel joke played out by fate…
 
I cannot tell nor fathom the depths of the human heart,
For we are complex beings under constant development.
I cannot hear nor feel the murmurs of your soul.

Do we even have one?
 
We are the cold starry night,
The faithful guide whom would both set and rise.
We are the flaming suns, lonely desolate stars.
:iconPuzzledHeartBox:PuzzledHeartBox
:iconpuzzledheartbox:PuzzledHeartBox 11 11
Literature
grow, growing, growth
it's beautiful to witness dispassion
when the dreams
drift
silently away from the body like a secret.
it's as if the moment meant to give my life surrender
guises as an average day with me
washing the dishes
sipping on coffee
ready for small reflections
how did it ended up like this?
'i'm not the kindred spirit
i once was. but no matter.
i'm late by 30 minutes
& life's moving without
me.'
ten years ago, i dreamed of writing short stories Time might consider having.
now i'm just running out of time and stories altogether.
worrying about how i'll make it
now considers small, grave details like
time management
and skills
and resumes
and
listen to me babble
like my 14-year-old self.
no wonder.
no wonder peter pan
never wanted to grow up.
it was never the matter
of never having fun
it was overthinking
about what was ahead
if i was gonna have fun
following my heart
& wake up with an empty
stomach
is a fear any parent
never wants for a child
but mine is when i take
a look at my
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 10 5
Literature
contrary [e]motion
Every once in a while
the mountain winds
taste of salt,
so much that I could
cup my hands
like shells
and picture white waters
marvel at oak roots
for the first time,
hear the seagulls
cry for food
let’s build a castle
you and I,
made of stardust,
down the street
where the last wish
went to die,
let’s make boats
of these empty pages,
and flowers,
and hats
to call our crowns.
Let’s dance alone
you and I,
to the sharp
light melody
of a moon
and let’s stay,
oh let’s stay,
grow old
you and I,
in the place
where the roses lay.
Imagination
keeps the earth still
beneath my feet
but the clouds above
bring your name
on paper wings,
your words
the sweetest thunder,
your memory
the brightest rain.
In my heart
is a web of riverbeds
carved by your absence,
falls growing upwards
into an archway
across the bloodstone sky -
impossible,
and so wrong, so strange
so beautiful, like sea salt
in the mountain air;
it only hurts
when I breathe
Ah forgive these dreamer-lungs,
thi
:iconAlwaysRainCheck:AlwaysRainCheck
:iconalwaysraincheck:AlwaysRainCheck 44 40
Literature
The boy with the devilish grin
The boy with the devilish grin
Never knew what was his sin
His parents forced him to put on a mask
To hide what was in their eyes something grotesque
At school he had no friends to play
Not one ever showed up for his birthday
In people he saw only fear and fright
Whenever he smiled people ran out of sight
His cheeks stretched from one ear to the other
Resembling something like Satan's little brother
And although he always had reason for crying
He never stopped grinning and smiling
A gentle soul that never meant any harm
He just didn't get lucky with the natural charm
Living was apparently his biggest sin
Although he never asked to be born looking like him
The boy with the devilish grin
People never bothered to look within
:iconMatoWayesj:MatoWayesj
:iconmatowayesj:MatoWayesj 8 5
Literature
01 - Binsengericht
Verlangt ein Mörder Blumen, gib ihm keine
Der Strand verliert den Sand vom Land ans Meer
Mitunter wachsen kleinen Steinen Beine
Und irgendwann ist jedes Ufer leer
Der Mond deckt still und leis die dunkle Szene
Ein Tuch aus Samt und Steinchen so wie Tuff
Der alte Mann lehnt an des Stuhles Lehne
Aus seinem Rock und seinem Haus dringt Muff
Von Zeit zu Zeit kocht meine Mutter Klöße
Mit Mehl gemacht und mit Kartoffelbrei
Ein jeder Kloß hat eine and're Größe
Doch nicht ein Kloß hat Hufe und Geweih
Ein kleiner Mann springt nackig von der Kuppe
Der federlos'te Vogel ist die Schnuppe
:iconsUmkIndAmOnstEr:sUmkIndAmOnstEr
:iconsumkindamonster:sUmkIndAmOnstEr 2 1
Literature
Carnival
When I was a senior in college, one day of my Christmas break was not like the others. That day, I sat at the kitchen table with my father and gathered the courage to ask, "What was she like, my mother?"
A spark lit in his gray eyes as he slowly set down his newspaper. "Your mother, huh?" He thought about it for a while, and the spark grew into a flame. "When I looked into her eyes, well ..." He paused, staring off into space. "I saw the sky," he said softly. Then he looked right at me. "She lived like she'd just won the world at a carnival. She held everything by a string and spun the stars on her fingernails, but it never made her happy. No one could ever say no to her, you know?" Taking a sip of coffee, he added, "Every no meant yes and every yes meant now. That's what I loved and hated most about her."
I sat in silence trying to bring such a woman to life in my mind, and he finished his coffee recalling what I could only imagine. "She sounds like quite a free spirit," I finally sai
:iconilluminara:illuminara
:iconilluminara:illuminara 7 12
Literature
fraudian (slips, landslides, baby steps)
prologue.
i meet naked eyes in the mirror.
don't look down, don't look down.
sometimes it feels as if the weight i carry
sits in layers, memories that unravel
as my gaze glances.
slide eyes downward, 
take the plunge.
i. wishful innocence
twelve years old, 5'4", 
60 kilos of never-thought-about-weight
and mother speaks to my bikini-clad body;
"why don't we go on a diet together?
just a couple kilos off, 
and we'll be perfect."
mum's been dieting since forever,
you name it, she's done it. 
she's 56 kilos, 5'3", 
and it's never enough. 
this is the first time 
she's tried to pull me into her world, 
but it will not be the last.
ii. between worlds
at thirteen my face lives blemished 
and i wear my curls in a scraped back bun 
because the uncontrollable frizz
embarrasses me.
i compare myself to my classmates,
straighten my hair and learn
to hold my stomach in;
thinner than one,
but not another.
i don't l
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 40 24
These works managed to catch my attention from the first read, although I might revisit them a second time one of these days. :)

Random from best I've read here on dA

Literature
Sonnet LXXVI
Op. 28, no. 4
Lost for Words

Why is my verse so barren of new pride,
And fullness in my words so hard to find?
What chokes my will so I cannot decide
If heartache reached with hurt to touch my mind?
Before, this art gave impetus to cope
With life, its many shocks and gradual pains;
Now all is distant, both despair and hope,
As days bring searing heat and pouring rains
With no consistency, I'm wondering
If finally I reached a point too deep
For me to speak, or if this sundering
Is still too shallow, like my shifting sleep.
Your silence is my silence multiplied,
Without my muse to be my gentle guide.
:iconParsat:Parsat
:iconparsat:Parsat 3 0
Literature
Sonnet LXXV
Op. 28, no. 3
Surrendered Affections

And for the peace of you I hold such strife,
To hold my distance seeing how you wept
For years spent waiting for a life to life
We both hoped for these times did not accept.
And how I wished we could have moved ahead,
But all the same we could not push the hand
That pulled our bound hearts close with scarlet thread.
His will, and his alone, is our command.
But still in lonely nights I feel the ache
Estrangement brings; this beating sorrow throbs
Against this fragile courage, fit to break
Into a slow and steady beat of sobs.
It's turmoil, yes, but one thought goes before:
I love you not, if Him I love not more.
:iconParsat:Parsat
:iconparsat:Parsat 5 0
Literature
An artist (revised)
Staring blankly at a white sheet of paper
Can truly be an artist’s worst nightmare
An artist’s duty as its shaper
Their thoughts up in the clouds somewhere
Looking for bits of inspiration
Their eyes searching the skies
Nothing can break their concentration
Nothing can blow out the passion in their eyes
Being an artist does not always mean you are skilled
You do not need to be Picasso or Bach
It means you want to see your dream fulfilled
And that you will never give in to an art block
:iconKoratoshisfriend:Koratoshisfriend
:iconkoratoshisfriend:Koratoshisfriend 287 46
Literature
Fie! Fie!
Fie!  Fie!
Forsooth, wist I,
Much seemeth out of sorts.
Pale moonlight falls,
‘Pon darksome walls;
Fey shadow o’er the courts.
 
Fey and fie,
For evil’s nigh;
Doth spirit darkly stain.
Sleep doth refuse to dulcetize,
The greater then the strain.
 
Fly!  Fly!
Heed ye my cry!
For watch ye not the doors?
Dim twilight lay,
On landscape fey.
Mist sprawleth ‘cross the moors.
 
Fie and Hark!
Doth eye not mark,
The brimstone-flash of hell?
The Gurlock creeps,       
Down from the steeps;
I know his reek right well.
 
Fie!  Fie!
Too late to hide!
Up now, and bar the door!
The creature crawls,
O’er stony walls,
Yet ye lay on the floor?
 
Hearken! Hear!
For death lurks near!
The creature’s drool drips warm.
Unto that beast,
Strength is a feast;
Weak is the strong man’s arm.
 
Ye lazy dafts!
I’ve with thy hafts,
Barred entrance to these halls;
This Grendel they,
Shan
:iconFeanor-the-Dragon:Feanor-the-Dragon
:iconfeanor-the-dragon:Feanor-the-Dragon 9 19
Literature
The Heroes' Rhyme
(chorus)
For its aye-lo-hey!
We’ll sing this day
Of heroes long remembered,
So that to them, by ditty and song,
Right ‘membrance might be rendered!
 
Lo and lo,
Doth moonlit glow,
Fall sterling on the boggy mires?
‘Pon darkened heath, ‘pon hoary leaf,
While ruddy autumn paints the shires?
 
(chorus)
 
“Harken, hark,”
Thus cries the lark,
Roused lately from her twiggy nest,
“‘Neath moonlight pale, come hear my tale,
Hear me of heroes’ deeds attest.”
 
(chorus)
 
Fie and fie,
For doomed to die
Were we by dint of shadow,
But o’er the hill, rode strong Ronil,
Let fly his trusty arrow!
 
(chorus)



:iconFeanor-the-Dragon:Feanor-the-Dragon
:iconfeanor-the-dragon:Feanor-the-Dragon 1 0
Literature
Kale's Lamentation
Tears for me have long run dry;
All joy to me now seems a lie,
As does hope for bright tomorrow;
 
I can find no rest in sleep;
I’ve no more the heart to weep,
Yet more deeply burns my sorrow;
 
Wearied of counting the cost,
And of what’s lost being lost,
Of fate spun out of my control,
 
I’m tired of giving my tears,
To my sorrows, griefs, and fears,
As ransom for my heart and soul;
 
What’s lost was cruelly taken;
Are we truly so shaken,
To do aught but mourn its passing?
 
Shall un-avenged be the wrongs?
Wrongdoers sing mirth-ful songs,
Though our sorrows keep amassing?
 
I and you, we are mourning;
For death stained hope a-borning;
Sad night fell at the dawn of day;
 
Why do we tearfully sit,
All unwilling to admit,
That tears can’t wash the blood away?
 
:iconFeanor-the-Dragon:Feanor-the-Dragon
:iconfeanor-the-dragon:Feanor-the-Dragon 6 4
Literature
The Lightning Leaps from the Sky
    The wind blows high and the sky hangs low,
    Tall ships are swallowed as the billows roll,
    The storm rears back with a bended bow,
    The lightning leaps from the sky.
     
    Thunder roars o’er sea and coast,
    Bright light flickers like a fleeting ghost,
    Aye, ‘tis when we can see the most,
    The lightning leaps from the sky.
     
    The light’s gone out on the beacon tall,
    The keel cuts jagged ‘neath a leaking hull,
    The masts all groan in the wailing squall,
    The lightning leaps from the sky.
     
  
:iconFeanor-the-Dragon:Feanor-the-Dragon
:iconfeanor-the-dragon:Feanor-the-Dragon 3 1
Literature
View From a Chandelier
Dear Journal,
I just arrived today, spic-n-span for the new place that will have me. People are carrying me inside this beautiful place; an Opera House, I believe they called it... I wonder what an "Opera House" is. I suppose that I will find out eventually. Oh, this is so exiting! I can hardly wait to see what is in store for my new home! I wonder where they will put me!
_
_
Dear Journal,
Holy Moley! You have no idea how large this room is, 1,013 seats await the eager trousers of those to come and watch various opera performances! I am still not too sure what opera is yet, but I am now hanging and adding light to this gorgeous room. I am made with something called "Electricity" and made to add a certain pleasure and comfort for our audience. Am I going to do opera too?
_
_
Dear Journal,
If I had human ears, they would bleed... This is what OPERA bust stand for:
Overbearing
Primadonna's
Exclamatory
Rage of
Acoustics

That "p
:iconFigarro-Luv:Figarro-Luv
:iconfigarro-luv:Figarro-Luv 19 25
Literature
September 1st 2010
September 1st 2010, it was a rather chilly morning, dark and cloudy. I felt myself engrossed with my slumber, yet felt the essence of the quiet room around me. It's 5:06 A.M. I feel the slightest shake of my body, nothing more than a gentle awakening, I could have sworn. Yet, as I opened my eyes, I saw the darkened room and feel the shaking as if an earthquake hit. I see only an outline of my older sisters tearstained face as she uses every fiber of her being to calmly speak. Instantly, my protective instincts kick in as I cup her face asking endless "what's wrongs," unable to comprehend a fathomable thought. I was ready to comfort her with whatever was about to come, but when she spoke those deadly words into existence, my soul crumbled: "Sweetie, daddy's dead..."
I remember it like it was yesterday, the whole endeavor lasted 3 days, since that it how long it was before I crashed into a dreamless sleep from exhaustion. They didn't let me see his body before they cremated it, I
:iconFigarro-Luv:Figarro-Luv
:iconfigarro-luv:Figarro-Luv 4 15
LA-BAS / OVER THERE (poetry) by Exnihilo-nihil LA-BAS / OVER THERE (poetry) :iconexnihilo-nihil:Exnihilo-nihil 480 143
Mature content
Injection :icondeetay:DeeTay 4 11
Literature
Forever pancakes on a noisy Sunday morning
There was a sudden stillness in the air when she spoke. Thoughts and words, all entangled in her mind, beat against the strings of her heart to come out. But her veins were too thick with blood, and her tongue was too tied, and there really was no way she could ever be that brave, she thought. Another breath. Just one more breath. Take another breath, Elizabeth. But no, this was not the day. She looked up and saw that nothing had changed. Except sound. Sound had changed. Sound had abandoned her when her fiancé left for China on a cold day in January, waving and smiling as he boarded the plane in his black polished shoes. That day, sound had abandoned her to a great stillness. It was a quiet solitude, different, frightening.
Now, Sound had abandoned her again, taken her breath away and tied her vocal cords in knots before leaving her there, sitting in that coffee house on that Sunday morning, a little closer to the world and her best friend than she cared to be. Sound had gone for
:iconDeeTay:DeeTay
:icondeetay:DeeTay 4 7
Literature
My Despairing Raven
My eyes fluttered.
"Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, I'll see you tomorrow," I heard them sing.
The darkness thinned.
My eyes opened. I couldn't see myself. I was inside, surrounded by blinding lights. I was mad with fever. My body was burning up, and yet I was shuddering violently; only straps kept me from falling into the endless abyss. I felt the sweat pour down my sticky body and soak the bed. I was dressed in white linens…
Then faces appeared, speaking in a deep language I could not comprehend. Their voices were assuring and warm. But I could not see their faces.
I was shivering with fever, cold, and fear.
Was I dying?
Where was I?
Please, don't put the lights out!
I went mad with furious fever forfeiting reason. I snarled like a beast who could tolerate its cage no longer. My forehead and hair rained upon them. Spite and spit: My veins filled with it. I thought I'd burst.
"NO! NO! NO!" I cried in delirium whilst I thrashed back and forth. "I'm afraid of the Dark! Please, don't
:iconCaesarAlexander:CaesarAlexander
:iconcaesaralexander:CaesarAlexander 5 9
Literature
My Eleventh Hour
I. Prologue: Self-Exile to Purgatory
With my eyes shut tight, I heard a terrible screeching sound.
It came from above and below, left and right, the sensation of a sphere surrounding me.
I dared not open my eyes for fear of what would be found.
It came again, its echo scraping the courage from every muscle and every bone.
The screech possessed the piquancy of steel dragging its edge across hard stone.
I lingered inside myself for a while, ignorant of my current situation,
Searching for some opinion or belief based upon solid predication.
I found only a fringe area of my mind linking me to an uncertain actuality,
A fragment of information dormant and in a state of certain fragility:
My name was Justin, wasn't it?
And now, knowing this, I face finality.
Brought here by my own doing,
To escape from all my pains,
The pills coursing through my veins,
The rope holding tight around my limp figure,
I know I had done a terrible thing,
Sacrificing my joy, laughter, and spark of vigor,
Exi
:iconCaesarAlexander:CaesarAlexander
:iconcaesaralexander:CaesarAlexander 7 11
I've been here on dA for about 5 years now (including this year), but these works, definitely deserve to be read at least once. Me? I read them countless times just because they really are that damn good. Worth noticing and worth every minute they come my way.

Friends

Watchers

DDs and DLDs/DLRs

I've been here on dA for 6 years now, and it has been an interesting six years. I admit I used to be more consistent back when I started, but I'm still working my way around that.

So, what have I got to show?

Hozan (Sadness)حزن (Hozàn)
In the name of thee, all-enshrouding fog,
In whose presence a hue of regret pour out their transient accord, as if hoping to awaken to a calling that is known only by your mind's eye. That emotional contrast which is felt - and upon a sudden blink, with no moment given to comprehend it - is in itself a reverie yearning to be heard... of course, with caution exercised diligently. It is difficult to consider one's soul to be free from melancholia - not unless one is a ghost, which is the case with all of us.
Maiden, whose smile is a dream that has been carved by the Almighty... how often, I wonder, have I thought about the closure you provided me whenever I would think about that fine silhouette that was your smile, my dear. It is like snowflakes perched upon winter leaves - tender, gentle, fragile, and a pleasure for the eyes. Melancholia, my dear - all it takes is your smile to start this process, where hues of regret pour out their transient accord
- Awarded DD April 20 2017

I first wrote this piece back in 2014. Most of how it was written is described in the work itself, but the why can best be described as... well... its literature. Lets just say, I was in the moment, and this work transpired.

MSC #6 - PushkinIn the desert grew the flower's decree,
For the Lord had ordained its fate to grow;
Never could I have had dreams come to me,
That the bloom of spring was calming to know;
I have never seen a desert rejoice,
But here I was now left to make a choice:
To be a part of this celebration,
Or step aside in my dedication
To observe nature's ways from a distance.
Be neutral and not take part in wrong ways,
For what had led to coming of dark days
Was Mankind's crime: It sought in repentance
That the desert flower which will blossom,
Shall live long enough to see kind autumn
- :icondailylitrecognition: Daily Lit Recognition for May 7th, 2014Daily Lit Recognition for May 7th, 2014
We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Recognition!
You can show your support by :+favlove:ing this News Article.
Please comment and :+fav: the features and congratulate the artists!
Poetry
Suggested by: justayne
Featured by: ladyshadowrage 

Bitter Revenge by justayne
Suggester said- I think that the main reason why 
I want to be featured is that I'm still quite a new poet 
and I want for more people to see my pieces 
and help me grow as a writer.
Featured by: AyeAye12

MSC #6 - Pushkin by shehrozeameen
An exceptionally crafted (underrated form of) 
sonnet. Filled with vibrant language, it carries 
a particularly


MSC (May Sonnet Challenge 2014) #6 - Pushkin. I actually love this work. I didn't think much about sonnets until I took up this challenge. While writing consistently and on a schedule can be very tiring on the mind, you get some moments of pure brilliance at times. This was one of them.

In case you plan on taking up a fixed form of poetry, do give this sonnet form a look. Its actually quite fun. :)

Mature Content

- :icondailylitdeviations: Daily Literature Deviations for January 23rd, 2014Guidelines | How to Suggest a DLD | Group Administrators | Affiliation | Chatroom | Current Staff Openings
Daily Lit Deviations for January 23rd, 2014
We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!
You can show your support by :+favlove:ing this News Article.

Please comment and :+fav: the features and congratulate the artists!
:pointr: For all of the featured artists: If you receive a DD for one
of your


This was amongst my earliest works which I had written here on dA. Yeah, back in the day when Sta.sh was still a fresh new thing, and we had funny symbols before our usernames. It was also before mentions became a fad here.

With that said, I actually recommend reading this work of mine, should you plan on checking out my prose pieces. Its long, granted, but like "Hozán (Sadness)", it was written when in the moment. And unlike my other works, its the only prose piece I have with some recognition.

Gather the Roses, my Love, And Fly AwayGather the Roses, my Love, And Fly Away
I hope to awaken in autumn one day
And find myself alone, like these withered leaves
Gather the roses, my love, and fly away
Fate came, and tore us - thus were we set astray
Too late were we, for this weight that would not leave
I hope to awaken in autumn one day
The waves of the sea, their tides striking the bay
An undefined weight, a hard burden they heave
Gather the roses, my love, and fly away
This soul is lost, its cries led by the wind's sway
A heart taken, its pieces lost from each cleave
I hope to awaken in autumn one day
Markings left show life, as you would always say
The sea which cared for me, a friend who would grieve
Gather the roses, my love, and fly away
I waited by the sea, here is my last stay
I make my last wish, by the end of the eve
I hope to awaken in autumn one day
Gather the roses, my love, and fly away
- Awarded DD 9 October 2013

Interestingly enough, I wrote this after failing at writing a good villanelle. I'd consider this my second attempt at a villanelle, and reading it now... there are some portions which have forced rhymes, and while it may have consistent syllable count, its still not "metric" in a traditional sense.

deviantID

shehrozeameen
Shehroze Ameen
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Germany
Interests
Hey everybody :) and welcome to another feature from yours truly. And this time, we're having something:



Because, as the title suggests, this is going to be a feature for foreign language poems and prose, as well as new stuff I found here on dA, in no particular order. So yeah, lets begin. I'll start off with the foreign language works first.



This is a French work, which I was recommended by :iconbattlefairies: in one of the comments on my journal. I'm not particularly... actually, no, I'm not fluent in French, at all. :shrug: But the reason why I shared it here is because I actually found it engaging, especially the "laisser la Fraaaaance aux François de Francie" part... I just read everything after that point because it just felt so funny. It is an engaging prose piece, though. And I highly recommend giving it a look in case you have an understanding of the language.

Also, on the same note:



A French poem. Its dark, its fascinating, its definitely by someone I know personally, and overall its actually another recommendation from me to people who are native speakers of French, or want variety in their French deviations.

Next up:



An Italian poem. I like this one especially because of how it handles the concept of "being insignificant". Its not emo - instead its considering what we take lightly, or do not pay much heed, and then contextualizes it into what it feels like to be insignificant. I especially like the use of the refrain in this poem. Even if you're not a native speaker of Italian, I recommend it. Its well written.

Also it has a translation included for those who still want to give it a read anyway.



A Spanish poem. And like "Insignificante" it also has an English translation as well. I like it mostly because, like "Insignificant", its straightforward, and it doesn't go all droopy about its themes. Its also a short poem and that works in its favour. Its well written, and its got a fair point about how love actually stands to be honest.

And now, my favourite part... the German section.



Obwohl diese Schriftstellerin nicht so aktiv auf dA ist, aber fand ich es gut zu schrieben. Besonders durch Wolfstier ist es ganz interessant zu kapieren, ein Verständnis über Treue zu haben. So habe ich es hier gelegt.



This one actually has an English translation as well, but honestly you're missing out on a lot of fun if you read it in English first and then go to the German version. I don't know about anyone else, but I found the story far more interesting than the sexual aspects in it (one word: Tentacles). I especially liked the character of the Prince - of the three characters we see in this work, the Prince was in my opinion the most fleshed out. At the same time, some of his mystery actually gave him less of a dominant, abusive tendency (as modern writers, especially that cock sucking shitfaced dick head E L James are wont to do), but instead is actually very poker-faced in his approach. He doesn't play all his cards, rather he gauges the princess before he takes action. He isn't (at least in my reading) even interested in the social status he gains from his interactions with the princess, and shows a significant amount of loyalty to her. Which actually works in this case. In case anybody is interested in a good, well described, and well written work that has a consistent beginning, middle and end, I recommend giving this work a read. Whether in English or German is your choice really. I preferred it in German.



Its from the same writer, but there's a reason why I featured her twice. In case people just want an innocent, but still insightful and well thought out, poem, then I recommend giving this a read. The way it describes the worm, and how it considers its own fortune in the context of the apple, is well thought out and - in my opinion - something which poets in general could actually learn from. Its a well written poem, and for what its worth I'm featuring it here so... give it a look. Its straightforward, and I'm fairly certain that if you have a prior knowledge of Dutch or French or Spanish or Italian... or all of them combined for that matter... you can get the gist of what is being said here. :)

Now... and now for something completely different.



A work in English... and honestly, this deserves more comments and :+fav:s. I mean... its really well written, and the way it handles its theme and the way it describes love in general is quite well written to be honest. Do give it a go, for sure.



Ah man... Gary Morton. Its been a while since I read some of his works, and I swear to God they just get better with time. I had already mentioned "A Love Letter to Nobody", but this one is definitely underrated. I read it back in 2013, and now... I feel it deserves much more exposure. Do yourself a favour, and read this! Seriously, you'll be doing yourself a significant favour.

And now, I'll end this journal by saying: comments, suggestions, and any new deviations you had wound up finding will all be welcome. :hug: So share, spread the word, keep me updated on whatever you found, and lets see what else is there hidden in deviantART. Thanks for reading this far, and ya'll stay well. Cheers.

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:iconexnihilo-nihil:
Exnihilo-nihil Featured By Owner May 18, 2017  Professional Writer
Thank you my friend! 
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:iconbattlefairies:
BATTLEFAIRIES Featured By Owner Apr 25, 2017
Djinn time! fav.me/d63xe2v

Thank you once again for Favouriting!
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:icondanny-mechanist:
danny-mechanist Featured By Owner Apr 20, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Congrats on the DD Chezzy :huggle:
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:iconnightshade-keyblade:
nightshade-keyblade Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
:iconhappybirthdaysignplz:, Shehroze!
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:iconnathanielflyingowl:
NathanielFlyingOwl Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2017   Writer
Happy birthday!
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:iconroundtower:
roundtower Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2017   Traditional Artist
Free Birthday Icon 
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:iconthegalleryofeve:
TheGalleryOfEve Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2017  Professional Digital Artist
Happy Birthday my dear!!! :iconflyingheartsplz::party::iconyaayplz::iconballoonsplz::iconflyingheartsplz:
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:iconbattlefairies:
BATTLEFAIRIES Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2016
Here we are! Thank you for Favouriting, the Djinn will see you now:
'Ask The Djinn' stamp by BATTLEFAIRIES <-- einsteigen, einsteigen, hop hop hop Gay nazi wave 
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:iconneo128:
Neo128 Featured By Owner Edited Sep 15, 2016   General Artist
I eagerly, and publically, invite you to identify any and all works plagiarized by me, and thereby subject me to the well-deseved exposure a fraud like myself richly deserves... Failing this (as you've already realized) I'll be expecting an apology delivered with the same vehemence with which you made your duplicitous accusation... I won't be holding my breath, though... Piss-yellow jellyfish, like you, don't roll like that. :D
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:iconneo128:
Neo128 Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2016   General Artist
You make a request (unsolicited by me) to include my work in your collection then accuse me of plagiarism? You'll have to explain to me how that kind of mind process works... not that I find it of any usefulness, value or relevance, you understand... But just to satisfy my morbid curiosity. :D


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:iconraspil:
raspil Featured By Owner Apr 14, 2016   Writer
happy birthday <3 :hug:
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:icongrafffite:
grafffite Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2016  Student Artist
Happy birthday! I hope you have had a wonderful day! Hug Airborne 
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:iconsuejo:
SueJO Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2016  Professional Writer
This is why I don't have more faves. If you can't enjoy, what's the point?
More power to you.
Be-happy-and-healthy by vafiehya  Roses for BDay by KmyGraphic  Happy Birthday by katewackerle  
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:iconnathanielflyingowl:
NathanielFlyingOwl Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2016   Writer
Happy birthday my friend. :)
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:iconpauper-circumstance:
Pauper-Circumstance Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2016
Happy Birthday!!!! :D :D :party: :D :D Many blessings, hope you are doing well, and have a wonderful birthday! :)
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:iconmalintra-shadowmoon:
Malintra-Shadowmoon Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday, Shehroze, dear friend. All the best to you and wishing you a wonderful day :heart:
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