MSC #5 - CaudateAmor Vincit Omnia thus beginsMSC #5 - Caudate by shehrozeameen
This sonnet to you dearest nightingale
Love, oh precious! Love is a forlorn tale:
It gives an audience to the chagrin
Of the heart's impatience - thus does it grin
Shamelessly as its mastery impales
the senses, forcing a Schiller's lost vale
to consume one's vision, and see within:
To realize the light calling to us;
But the heart construes a cry to the Lord -
For it knows when the mind is led astray:
For it follows it own choice, it floats thus
To see from a plane we did not accord -
Hence do fools find that their choice one fine day
See their love fade away
Hindered hopes and whispers I reminisce
For Behind all that mirth and sweetened bliss
Fate Screams with a sharp hiss:
"Henceforth will you roam this world without hope?
For what will you sacrifice to elope?"
MSC #3 - Terza RimaForever bound by woes none can understandMSC #3 - Terza Rima by shehrozeameen
We wait for an end unlikely to happen
'Tis a guilt of heart and mind - hard to withstand
Is this the dream oft told - aloft, forbidden?
It seems to me, lost, a forlorn conclusion
Alas, from love alone, can we be broken
All beings, born equal, have many questions
Unanswered, we are trapped in our minds confined
Not whole - devoid; we are seeking redemption
What defines love? Why must it be deified?
Its essence, praised, has not yet been realized.
MSC #2 - PetitListen, heed to the whispers that you hearMSC #2 - Petit by shehrozeameen
“To traverse here one would be led astray”
It was good fortune that aided you here
I think there is more that will come your way
From the lands travel south – those are lands known
To you; But before you leave, I ask you:
Is it true, stranger, that your clan disowned
And exiled you for a person you knew?
The King on the throne was one of your own?
|My submissions to MSC 2014 held by |
May Sonnet Challenge (NOW OPEN)5/1/2014: The MSC folder is now open for submissions! Good luck!
my Inner SanctumSatisfaction knowing that my sanctuary is intactmy Inner Sanctum by shehrozeameen
The relief of my friends and their warmth my comfort zone
From the evil vindication of a deplorable incarnate
Or a peril of catastrophic proportions that hides in wait, pouncing at the right moment!
Alas, I am without any sense or imagination
Who I am, and what I stand for, is because of my inner sanctum
Purity of form and grace, a web constructed from lace
The mask in which I hide, a shadow over my crying face
My woe and sorrow my comfort can comprehend
My voice depressed is made joyful again
Without any heavy labor, I am awoken, my stupor is bent
And its influence is made to end
The happiness of my inner sanctum
My inner circle wherein I find comfort
Away from madding crowds and suicidal clout
Safe from destruction, from within and without
Dear RainThese drops from heavenDear Rain by shehrozeameen
Falling on me and my brethren
Healing me, calming my mourning cry
These drops from heaven, falling from the abode high
Oh rain falling, please stay
Be my company at least for today
Shine upon me I pray
Leave not this romantist, filled with dismay
Revision 19 March 2013: This is trying to take the same theme of this poem and writing it from a different perspective.
tears of heaven rain on this domain
as my brethren and I am calmed
whilst scars and wounds of a past so profane
Is shed away by Nature's psalm
Lo! Dear Rain, bless your nobility
for your aid, when I needed thee
Subdue me in your sweet embrace
lest I forget your enshrining grace
PoliomyelitisNote: Poliomyelitis is a disease caused by the poliovirus species. Its major impact is in Pakistan, Nigeria and Afghanistan as India is now celebrating Year One of Zero Polio. This poem is a dedication to the people of these countries who have suffered from this disease. It is also a tribute for those whom have been fighting to eradicate this disease.Poliomyelitis by shehrozeameen
What the world perceives/ wants to perceive
So difficult... so harsh is this maltreatment that consumes me...
Not by my kith and kin; but rather my own physical being;
Taking away from me, the vitality of my locomotion
These beings gathered round in the darkness, hidden by a deep faze
"Is this the reality that YOU must live? How pitiable" I hear them say
These binding columns are no more a necessity for me, I am done now;
Oh Lord take this life higher, towards the holy fire that is yours!
In thus your making, hidden behind the dark secret of reality, piousness;
A need to be taken away from binding columns crumbling, to a higher life!
Shadows in the DraperyThey watch and they make their soundsShadows in the Drapery by shehrozeameen
Their empty sounds without voices a bark coming round
Emptiness in their faces, a myriad a web made from laces
These shadows that dance so lucidly their enchanted dance in phases
They call out to their cry a cry to be cried out in vain
But behind their incense is a disgusting malice seeking pain
Disdain . Such pitiful disdain
Myriads of shapes, and with shadows forming beyond
The emptiness consuming, the masquerade of confusion
In lands they carry their sounds of woeful tragedy such hypocrisy
Their temptation to aid and displease is left in vain for the world to see
Leaving behind the incantation of an orifice, senescence gaping away
Grasping and killing these masked folk their resurrection at bay
The truth of their lies; are gaping cries of the crow which sighs
For help in the reclusion
To seek what had dawned
But was never attained
As the empty voices of sounds of barks coming round
Make for them as the
|Poetry from yours truly|
Hi! My name is Shehroze Ameen.|
I'm at present working in the following groups:
- Founder - A place where all your get exposure. Do give it a look
- Head of the Critique Department - send a whenever if you want to apply as a critic to me, prettyflour or Michel-le-fou . For more details, see this journal:
Critique Department Update: Critic Openings!EDIT: Duties of Critics have been added in this notice. Thanks fernknits for pointing that out. Appreciate it.
- Second in Command - a place where you get critique in exchange for critique given to members . The rules are provided in the unappreciated journal features posted every month. Come on over!
- Staff Critic (now promoted to Co-founder) - Yes, photography critic as well. in case you ever have any photographs which you feel require attention or are outstanding, don't hesitate to send me a .
What else.... I love . If you need somebody to , or need someone to talk to about something, me. but if your serious about progressing forward, I'll do my level best to help you out in any way possible...
Looking forward to what people feel about my works
Hear me / my poems on Bandcamp or Soundcloud:
Apart from dA, I'm also in the following writing websites. Cheers.
Blogger : vermilionshroudsofmyinnerself.…, serzhrant.blogspot.com
I am available for commissions as well (writing mostly ). Here's the thumb to my commission details:
Commissions OpenName of commissioner: shehrozeameen :iconshehrozeameen:and its only for 20 (my cut is 16 , if you want it in real life amount).
Don't hesitate to go when you wind up looking at my works Cheers.
Mid August News: Heart JourneyAfter celebrating another cherished DeviantART birthday – and a looming one of my own – I think of the scores of blessings and the occasional trials during my own DeviantART journey. During times of personal growth, painful loss and devious changes here throughout the years, there are many that freely give love and support. After nine years, I have valued everything they have done for me. My experiences would not have been entirely the same, otherwise.
I owe a vast amount of gratitude to one deviant in particular, who ultimately gave me the courage to raise my voice in the darkness, when I was still trying to forge my path within the community. Many know of this angel who watches over us – his name is Bill, GeneratingHype. He, along with wreckling, StJoan, Moonbeam13, fourteenthstar, and Memnalar in particular – stayed by my side and offered (and continue to offer,) unwavering support.
Other dearest friends and loving beautiful soul
30 Writers You Should Discover: Volume XXIIWhat's This?head on over to 'em. Information about the literature community provided here
Below you will find a new assortment of various writers on DeviantART who are worth getting to know. All of their respective galleries are packed full of tremendous works that I enjoy and hope that you will too. And, if there is a writer that may not be listed
The Lotus Woman's ChildThe fruit blossoms and flowers that grew near my father’s house in Che Chiang province stopped blooming that year in 1941. My father’s house near Ch'ien Tao Lake was always full of flowers, especially the white lotus, the sweet smelling flower that never had thorns. My neighbours said that it was because winter was at hand, but I think it was the Japanese military occupation that made it so. The fragile flower was to me, the soul of the serene province that I once called home as a child. Many asked me why I decided to leave the place that I had loved and grew up in.
When asked why I left Che Chiang, I simply replied that I was restless. I couldn't stay in my family’s house for long, and as soon as I was old enough, I left for a whole new city. I moved to Shanghai as a police officer in 1935, two years before the horrible nightmare in Nan Qing, when thousands of troops from the Imperial Army ravaged the capital. Thousands died in that
I was born in South East Asia at the end of the century. Due to the nature of my father's work, I spent my boyhood visiting so many different countries, while living in a single country in Africa for more than 10 years. I felt like I was missing out somehow, to travel nearly everywhere and live out of a suitcase, only to return to the same place to do the same thing every school year. Being surrounded by boys and girls who had likewise lived in so many places and had so many memories didn't do much to lift my spirits.
But taking courses like geography and humanities definitely fed my imagination and made me think beyond what was happening in my own little world. When I finally left my parents to go to university, I breathed a sigh of relief. Now, nothing could stop me from seeking adventure on my own. I was free to walk in the woodland that I hadn't seen for so many years. Every so often, when time and money allowed it, I would take the train and the bus to the towns nearby to explore
The Swan SongIn a land long forgotten by history books, a lonely nomad roamed mountains and forests, driven away from his home long time ago. He travelled through towns, sleeping under bridges and on the doorsteps of cathedrals, for he had been driven penniless and was mistreated by the people of his town.
The forests of the island he wandered were kinder to him, giving him firewood to burn and fruits to eat. The animals of the forest kept a respectful distance from him and never taunted him for his unshaven face or his tattered clothes. He was never pitied by them and he never had to dance for his food or humiliate himself for a few copper pennies. The warbling of the birds in their branches was a sweet music to his ears after the jeers and cruel laughter of the locals.
But the tranquillity of the forest was soon frozen along with the rest of the world when the winter's icy breath trapped the unfortunate sojourner. He could feel the frozen grip of the powerful Lady Skadi on his world, but was depr
Soul Searchingwith my emotions
across the cutting-table
i scratch out
random bits of
for that light
at the end
of the tunnel.
You've Fallen For Himhe's young and tender
with kisses that let
your heart soar
like a kite dancing
on a summer wind,
he has poetry eyes
and notebook fingers
which print endless
words upon your skin
with a single look
or a delicate touch,
and he dreams
for two with every
breath that he takes
entwining his hand
with yours as you talk
the minutes away
sinking into the
Letters to a Memorydear boy with-the-faraway-eyes,
moonlight crawls through my open window, filtering the august heat. august. do you remember?
it was the first time we met. in the meadow. you were like winter lost in a summer song. your eyes cold as ice.
hair careless and ebony. we just stared at each other. only a mere few seconds...
until you just turned and walked away.
you know. i never told you, but i kept going back that week. every day, again and again.
till that day we met for the second time. you'll probably grin if you ever read this. smile and say;
'that's just typically you.'
i never surprised you. i was like an open book. but maybe, i'm surprising you now?
with love, the girl-with-the-sun-in-her-hair
dear boy with-the-hidden-smile,
the scent of jasmine is carried in with the soft blowing wind. i can't sleep. it reminds me too much of you.
i can almost hear your whispering heart. just like that night you came to me in the rain. i can still taste it.
still smell it. still see how yo
School papersI got scared to throw it out
But I didn't dare to take a look
All that paperwork on the ground
Information out of a school book
What if it's important?
What if I'll need it?
What if I must learn from that?
Because I don't know shit
I was scared of even moving it aside
A constant reminder
I became a doomed carrier
Instead of a lucky finder
But the truth is
It's all old news
I failed the study
Nothing left to lose
1, 2, 31, 2, 3,
1, 2, 3,
1, 2, 3,
1, 2, 3,
Every once in a while,
I want two be,
Three years from now
Smile through the tears'A perfect night to die.' She said to herself, as she walked upon the ridge. 'He thinks I'm asleep, they all think I'm fine. And the others, they just don't really care.'
She smiled, but she was crying too. The tears rolling down from her cheeks burned in the red lines she created, when she was desperately scratching 'her face off'.
'It's really not that bad, I will be fine in the end.' She whispered, as if it was a vague memory. She smiled wider, as she remembered, that always did the trick.
She stops, then drops, and then she hit the ground.
She isn't dead.
This was merely one of her thousand repetitions, falling off her bed.
She lays there for a while, just smiling, letting the tears find their way to the ground. 'It's really not that bad, I will be fine in the end.' She whispered, as if she was supposed to remember it.
how to discover a justified reason for lovei want nothing more than to visit italy.
i do not want to see the crumbling colosseum,
nor do i want to fall in love
with a charming, dark-haired italian boy
working at the gelato place in sicily
who compares my eyes to stars in broken english.
i want to see the tiny town
where my grandmother was raised,
to know the rolling hills
that lie between the church and the horizon,
to see the house where she and her mother
made large loaves of bread to be given out to family,
to listen to the sounds of birds
on the farm she gave up multiplication tables for
where the men drank wine and played accordions
and the women shook tablecloths and laughed haunting melodies,
and where soldiers marched and searched
and marched and searched
and marched and kicked
and shot and left.
i want to know why she traveled,
a family of smiling emigrants in tow,
to a country they'd only ever dreamt of dreaming.
i want to hear the whispers of an eager family
from before it was left divided by the bitterness
on storms, trust, and frozen yogurtmy mind has been
quite the storm, recently.
it's not a refreshing thunderstorm
in the middle of summer.
is a blizzard
in a smog-ridden
city, caked with salt
and that disgusting brown
slush you find on streets.
never mind. sorry.
i had a typewriter,
so i could destroy words
"where are we going again?"
without really meaning to.
i know that she's
probably told me approximately
57.5 times where we're going,
but i can't be bothered
"your brother's house,
then to the frozen yogurt place."
she says something in reply,
but i'm singing the lyrics
to an incubus song
and can't be bothered
for all the bothering i do
to the people around me,
i can't really be bothered
to do much of anything anymore.
wow, i am
really freaking annoying.
my mom always yells at me
for walking too loudly.
(it's weird, i know,
but she's a micro-manager
and i never listen.)
it's not my fault
i'm heavy and te
rose of sharoni met her
under dying thunderstorms,
and late morning sunshine.
it never started out
as anything special;
i was six
and she had cats and dogs
and fish and turtles,
and i wanted to meet them all.
she was 'the mother
of my brother's annoying
and it wasn't long before she became
dropped me off one summer day
at their small house
in the middle of town
and told me to be nice.
at that time, she was
nothing more than 'that lady
with the animals',
so i played with them,
ate what was offered
and stayed out of the way.
was formed and set in stone-
play with the cats,
watch a movie,
feed the affectionate stray outside,
eat a sandwich,
bake a cake,
watch a game show,
and wait to be picked up.
it was the same as before
i was doing it with a friend.
it was weird.
i liked it.
she had become
more than 'marian',
and was now
'mommy number two'.
we'd gone to the mall
and spent half an hour
From Margret to mom and dadDear mom and dad,
I've decided to end my life. I chose to do this for a few reasons.
1. I never wanted to go to dance class. You keep making me and telling me that I’ll like it someday but it’s been 7 years and I don’t want to spend three hours a day dancing. I have no time for myself and I am tired of going there. I have no interest in dance but you keep insisting. I've never had enough time to do what I want.
2. You kept making me go to church but I am, in fact, an atheist. I don’t believe in god and every Sunday I have to hear about how I should be in hell for things that I can’t control. Dad once said that atheists aren't welcome in his house and you grounded me when I said “happy holidays” last year instead of merry Xmas.
3. You don’t respect me at all. You told me that if I didn't get straight A’s by the time I was 18 I’d have to find a new place to live. I’m 16 and no matter what I do I can’t get my grades a
Bad Poem about Rainstrike the clouds with thunder
until they break and bleed
tear the skyies asunder
until the rain is freed
in the blood of grey skies
unheard melodies sung
i drink to stop my cries
and wash words from my tongue
wash away what was done
wash away lasting fears
hide from the burning sun
the inferno of nightmares
bring forth all your sorrow
let it be washed away
waters of tomorrow
wash away yesterday
let it play a loud tune
as distant stars return
under the rule of moon
and the night takes its turn
it hits the roof and wall
hear it and let it drum
a melody we call
out of words unspoken
out of feeling worn
out of the skies broken
the future will be born
Night of SedativesHead to my pillowcase
Pillow to my headcase
"One more sedative and I'll be fine"
Heart ever resting here
Resting is never here
Sandman or Reaper, I lay supine.
Body upon my bed
Burden upon my head
"One more sedative and I'll be out"
I'm tossing and turning
And dreaming of burning
Where is my sleep as I thrash about?
Birds by the windowsill
Through which the sun does spill
"One more sedative and I'll be done"
Pulling the curtains closed
Leaving the dark exposed
Here I will hide from the morning sun.
A Love Letter To Nobody
So, I’m really drunk again. This is when the tortured words seem to come the easiest. They flow out of me. Like thick spit in the rain. Like arterial blood spurting onto the page. They say alcohol brings out the truth and I’m not even going to bother fixing the typos.
You promised you would never leave me. And now you have broken that promise. It was meant to be forever, it was meant to last through the cold, desolate night. I have tried to replace you, but the deep yearning ache still persists. It has been agony without you.
I always thought that this was it and I never thought it would end like this. I had found the person that completed me. I had found the one that filled the gaping hole in my soul. Now all it would be is a mercy killing. Put me out of my misery, please. I wouldn’t even feel the blade going in. It is artificial blood, fake and and unconvincing. Bathtub. Razorblades. Freedom. Sleeping forever in a red canoe with hollow walls. Eyes close, never to op
I Was Once, Like You
I was once like you with all your fucking shiny things. I once had a nice swollen bank account and responsibilities and mortgage repayments. I once knew what it was like to take a single, unadulterated, unencumbered breath. I knew what it was like to be anesthetised and vacant. I can feel the words coming again. They are creeping up on me. All I seem to do is write about heartbreak and how much I hate the word. It’s getting tiresome. Even I get sick of writing it, so I can only apologise.
I’m sitting in a cafe. I have ordered a drink so elaborate, I couldn’t even begin to ascertain its ingredients. I look out the glass window at the normal people. They are holding hands and smiling. I sit in the corner with a noose around my neck. My skin is inside out. I count my fingers and then bite them off. They gawk at me like an animal in a cage. Look at him. What a poor man. They wonder what is wrong with me. So do I.
I was never like this before. I was never drunk in the aft
Ode to a Pedantic Prick
You always did think that you were better than me, didn't you?
You had read more books than me,
Had a more extensive vocabulary,
All those glistening words cavorting behind your dull jelly eyes,
Paid heed to the canon,
Read the "Classics", you had done your time,
I was just an upstart in your eyes, no threat whatsoever, beneath you.
You were just so convinced that you were better.
Even now you clutch at your
Full of rank dribbling poesies.
You speak of love,
But you don't know what it means,
Just like the rest of us clueless fuckers.
I write with fire
I write with rage and venom
I write with hate.
Bitterness and contempt gushes through my veins
And ejaculates onto the page,
Hot thick and sticky globules of my mishapen words: run down your face
With its slutty secrets.
You write with beautiful rose-scented petals
And squalid cherry blossoms and magically fluffy clouds,
You create perfectly punctuated poetry,
But I could piss a better poem than you ever could.
And you alwa
dA Dec 30th 2012 7:08PM (Big Surprise)Imaginatik and Top-Hat-Wolf were the first people who brought me over to dA. So far as I can remember... I was searching on google for Legacy of Kain... it was a stroke of luck that brought me over to the Ramuk series by Top-Hat-Wolf... and I fell for it... The second time I tried searching for it on Google, I didn't know where to look... keep going here and there... all over the place... but I stood my grounds and found it... Kept reading it for most of that day... It was ending March... by April I had officially joined dA... April 19th 2011 was the day someone here, noticed I was alive... My first submission was as a journal (funnily)... well, kept it there, till I found out how to submit works as deviations... then I posted three works: "Zarak's Vision", "Shadow of the Colossus epic poem", and "Interlude"; Didn't know where the watch button was, didn't know about the fav button, didn't comment... just went over to Top-Hat-Wolf's profile and picked out that fan fic series for reand
dA Feb 2 2013 11:45pm PSTBe warned that this work has not been proof-read. Read at your own risk.
Finished on 3rd Feb 2013 at 3:39 AM PST
I haven't uploaded a new journal in quite a long long while... I mean... 1,190 views for a singular journal... that's quite a lot... Far more than any single one of my deviations... And now its been a new inclusion of people I've had in my list of excursions here on dA...
quite a lot...
Well... real life's a hug, a slap-in-the-face, and a certain amount of opportunity... I passed one of my subjects which I had failed last semester... but in the process I'm going to repeat a subject I detest !! I'm not going to talk about it, because I just hope to be over and done with that subject. Period.
And well, all jokes aside, I'm happy; I put my first book in one book shop, sent three e-copies, and distributed it among a noble few... well, it got some really big exposure in one of mom's two-day event in Islamabad Hotel (where a lot of people mom works with were giv
Final Prize Update: Micro Colour Contest!THE VERY LAST PRIZE UPDATE:
Okay, after getting a ridiculous(ly wonderful) number of incredible prize donations, I'm finally calling it quits; I don't need any more donations from you lovely lovely people! Thank you so so so much to everyone who's donated points, features, poems, llamas, etcetera;
I am completely overwhelmed by your generousity and support.
So, one last time, go down and check out the freshly pimped prize list!
GUEST JUDGE ANNOUNCEMENT:
Okay, so this is a pretty cool update. Instead of just me staring blankly at all of your incredible entries and having NO IDEA who to pick, I'm bringing in the big guns!
Please welcome the incomparable chromeantennae,
who is joining me as a Special Guest Judge!
I consider Ricky to be one of my closest friends, and one of my favourite poets here on deviantArt. He has a wonderful eye for the incredible, and I'm sure he'll be super great
Promoting Corner Vol.2I recently found dAhub via DamaiMikaz' journal. dAhub is an account created to help artists gain exposure. It works as a system. You donate points to be featured on their profile page which has quite a busy view traffic. I tried and it actually works quite awesome.
Also you can earn by faving, watching, giving llamas to people who have been featured there.
Read DamaiMikaz's article to get a logical point of view on advertising your art and see how you can get featured on her profile:
Other projects and art news:
Promoting Corner Vol.1
Hear Ye, Hear Ye:iconcoattailsofjustice: is doing commissions for 20% off, it's a bargain, she's awesome. Any purchase over 30 dollars comes with a free lawn gnome. :icongnomeplz:which is a commission feature if anyone's interested.
(update) I mentioned she's awesome right? Well, here's your proof.
Commishies!Pow! I'm doing commissions again! I'll edit the prices and categories over time, so keep alert for updates I guess.another commissioning artist. Head on over to her, she's got some wonderful arsenal on her side.
Have a lovely day!
Here's the price chart thing:
Simple Sprites: Um.... 30
2D Sprites from a fully 3D game: 37
OCs/Fan Art: 85
Spotlight on sirenabonitaToday I am celebrating :iconsirenabonita: sirenabonita
Please take a moment to check out his wonderful artwork.
Kick Ass Fanfiction. A Feature.Fanfiction. I read it. I write it. Here are some that I think you'll enjoy.
Let's start with the fandom that I started with, Harry Potter.
Now, we have some Twilight Fanfiction.
How about some True Blood?
And finally I just recently started getting into, The Hunger Games.
A Taste of Honey, Ch.1 by KarlaCr0me 8-10-2012: The Child with Seam Eyes, part 2 by lalaith913
Oldies but GOODies.These deviations have been around for a while, and they are still awesome.
The last ride by AnteUglesic
League of Lit Groups: Vol. 13Like groups? Want to join a group's admin team? Well this article is for you! Posted once a month this article will revisit one past group spotlight from Love dA Lit and one literature group who is in need of admins to help with their various group activities.
This month we will be revisiting The-Novelist-Club and taking a look at WritersInk!
Group in Need | Past Spotlight | Contacting Me
"WritersInk is a place for storytellers, writers and poets who want to bring literature out of the ashes. Join us, and help strengthen our community. "
-WritersInk's front page
PE: Lit Basics Round-UpLit Basics Week
projecteducate's Lit Basics has wound down, so lets take a stroll through the articles that came out this week! Hopefully, you learned something new or we refreshed your memory on something you all ready knew. We hope that you learned something from the plethora of useful information! ♥
Project Educate: Lit Basics Week
Literary Terminology Guide
PE: Literature Basics Settings
Fighting the Bloat!
Do you want to help feature exceptional art?I'm accepting contributors over at ExceptionalArtworks, so if you love to feature other peoples work and think you have an eye for what makes a piece exceptional then send the group a note with the thumbs of a few pieces you think are exceptional. Think of it like a sampler of the kinds of things you'd be inviting to be showcased in the group, we want to see your idea of quality artwork!
The group is 7 months old and has almost 400 watchers so far. It has two admins right now, one (that's me) is focused on conceptual and fashion photography, macro and landscape photography and traditional art - and the other (that's DoloriferousFrost my rl BEST friend who joined DA after watching me admin this group so many times because he couldnt bear not participating any longer) who focuses on all artworks in the fantasy genre and any literature. But we realise that our tastes are not broad enough to truly represent the whole of DA - so we are looking for people w
Laptop Fund RaiserMy Laptops operating system is obsolete and nothing else is compatible with it. Which Leaves me no other choice than to get a new machine. So, I'm holding best offer commissions to raise money for it. I've raised good money so far with my sewing business (which I might add is alive again, HURRAY!!) but I'm going to need all the help I can get. Because you all know how expensive even a cheap laptop is lol
You name it I do it. OC outfits, formal, casual, fantasy, eccentric, cosplay, Monster High, Ever After High, so much more. Just make me an offer, tell me what you want designed, and we can make it work!
1 design: $10
2 designs: $12
3 designs: $15
4 or more: Negotiable
(any male designs: $5 more, because I don't usually do male)
All payments must be made by PayPal. Information will be given once orders are made. Please keep info to yourself. All payments must be completed before orders are submitted. No refunds, Only Free Redoes.
Pardon my French...I owe a tag to the incroyable AlphaManifest
Je suis désolée it took me so much time...I'm such a busy minion
So let's start, ten facts about me:
1- I'm a very serious person.
2- That made you laugh, right?
3- It makes the number two a thing about you and the number one a false statement.
4- Yesterday someone told me to smile.
5- I thought I was.
6- For some reason I feel like telling you my favorite color
7- but I won't, so you'll be curious.
8- Yes I'm cruel.
9- Nothing will distract me from finishing this tag
10- I...oh look a butterfly.
And my answers to a series of very interesting questions if I can say so:
1) If life
Wind stillNear the crossroads,
I saw a nightingale
Her face was white as snow
Her coat was brown as bark
She was singing to the clouds,
'Tell me where to go'
But the clouds did not reply
As it was wind still
She was chased away,
From where she came
For the people did not like her song,
As it was too sad to hear
She was longing for that man,
Who had once kept her in a cage
She missed the safety of the cage,
And the softness of his voice
One day she woke up
The cage open,
And the man gone away
He had left her alone
She stayed there for a while,
Hoping he'd come back
Singing his song for him
Until she was chased away
Now she stands at the crossroads,
Wondering where he went
But his tracks have faded
No sign was left for her
So she was praying to the clouds,
'Tell me where to go'
But the clouds did not reply
As it was wind still
Small as a Mouse (YouTube link included)When I was 13 my first counsellor asked me what animal I thought I was most like. A mouse. A dormouse, I said, because I sleep a lot. She laughed, and I laughed, and everyone in the gallery agreed how funny it was. It was true. I sleep all day because sleep is the natural anaesthetic and the only way I could numb the nerve endings crackling their anger through my brain.
No one ever asked me again. No one ever asked me why I was late for school every day, why I ignored alarms and never ate breakfast. They told me to buy a clock, buy another clock, buy a better clock. I did what I was told, like I always have, but it didn’t make a difference because at the end of the day, at the start of the day, I’d rather be asleep. Awake and arithmetic had nothing to offer me, just give me sleep. I’d skip classes and parties, miss birthdays and brunches, just give me sleep.
My friends were used to it, I ran on my own timezone, it became a personal joke. They laughed
In debtThe truth is, I never wanted for this to happen. It just did. It started years ago when my father died, and I guess it all just ended this morning when I walked by that girl at Starbucks. She was looking through her handbag for something. Her purse? Her phone? A note from someone special? I have no idea. I don't know her. She was wearing a light yellow dress that danced in the wind, almost as though it was celebrating the wind, life, the people walking by, and the rich smell of coffee from the coffee house. She was just standing there as I walked by. Then - she looked up. Just for a moment. And she smiled at me. It was a glowing, friendly smile. That was when I knew it was over, that was when I finally realized it; that I had to die. I had to die because I didn't smile back; because I can't smile anymore.
A smile is such a simple thing. How could a smile possibly drive me to this? Standing on a rooftop, looking down at everybody, their heads some of them wearing hats like
|Critique is such a hard job - but somebody's gotta do it. I for one, am proud of my critiques.|
Commissions OpenName of commissioner: shehrozeameen :iconshehrozeameen:
Commissions OpenName of commissioner: shehrozeameen :iconshehrozeameen: