|Poetry from yours truly|
Valentine Day ContestShe rode the waves, and turned the tideValentine Day Contest by shehrozeameen
She shock the heavens, in sincere delight
She had achieved her goal, against all the might
Of those who opposed what she liked; but she never backed out from a fight
I don't know her, I haven't even seen her
But it's a pleasure and a privilege bestowed
I like her works, they're genuine and wrought
With energy and ideas, cute, witty, and even queer
Queer because they make you think
Witty because they make your mind ring
Cute because they always link
To what, I believe, I'd be happy to bring
A bouquet of flowers, with chocolate covered strawberry pink
I laugh and I wonder what do you look like?
Are you some Amazon beauty; A Nubian queen; An Uptown girl?
With wonderful eyes, behind which lies, a hope for adventure to strike
And give you something nice which you want to curl
In your arms and scream out loud, "The best thing in the whole world!"
I didn't notice you before
But now your one person I adore
You really are tough, you believe in what you do
RoohCan you not feel the heart, anxious beyond reckoning?Rooh by shehrozeameen
Is not this beckoning strong, constructed through the spirit restless and without patience
Oh thee, shining away amidst the eternal twilight, conjuring
Conjugate you’re euphoria with mine, this heartening magnificence
Bring together the star sapphires, the heart be at rest
Join my restlessness with yourself, oh loving remind, inner peace worth happiness and jest
Temper not through this restless soul, wary from its endless journey
Its heart at unease, the spirit yearning for thee
Tempted beyond its self
Admit I to thee, I am alone
Admit thee, your loneliness
Admit I to thee, at night I moan
Admit thee; it’s for your sadness
Can you not hear the heart, its voice broken?
It is no different than your heart, yearning to be joined, to become one
Awash then, this token, that the pain goes away, and our spirit's plight is undone
Can you not feel the heart, anxious beyond reckoning?
Is not this beckoning strong, const
Captain Ulmar Wenceslas LockhartCaptain Ulmar Wenceslas LockhartCaptain Ulmar Wenceslas Lockhart by shehrozeameen
It was not a sight for the faint hearted, that I can tell thee
To see my Captain fighting his enemy, and break free
And live to fight another day, to explore the endless blue sea
Alas that is life, such are things meant to be
My Captain was Ulmar Wenceslas Lockhart, God be with the man
Sailed many seas he did, those who fought him were damned
None could be saved when they faced Lockhart, all feared his plan
To bring down the Odyssey, to which end he never ran
This is the story of Captain Lockhart, and his brave last stand
The Odyssey’s captain was no ordinary fool
He was Lockhart’s equal, affluent in all trades and tools
He was Nicodemus Bartholomew “Lockhart”
“Lockhart” because he equaled my Captain in every art
From the Port O’ Leon to The guild town Hall
Numerous times they blocked the seas; all
to themselves they kept the battlefield;
But alas, their efforts provided no yie
A tribute to the song "blood on verona"394 wordsA tribute to the song "blood on verona" by shehrozeameen
How should I be able to fear?
When I have awoken in a dawn of tears...
Only through repentance for the spilling of the blood of Verona
Can I find salvation in the peaceful regions of my Iona
deep within my mind
lost in time, corrupted by a horrendous grind
By a rare metal, bringing to the fore a harsh remind
Who is to tell me what is there to lie
What can I find hidden behind the rye
Who is there living beyond his means, whose cry
Can shatter the orbit of the mash long forgotten
Begotten, the Harlem of the down-trodden
Damnation, Ecclesiastical Ramification
Who are you to play that which you know not?
What are you to seek from that itch that leads to your lot?
When do you cry out for that which you cannot understand?
For in it lies the drought stitched to sanity of the land
Is this the reality you seek, so eager and meek?
Don't be so tongue in cheek, oh naive deviant, foolish and weak
Herein lie thee, son of the soil
Herein shall die thee, ton of toil
Born of the fire and ash
|Poetry from yours truly|
Jubal endAmidst the desert crowding wherein only the sky and sand provided company, a cluster of armored warriors numbering in the millions stood in front of an ebbing and flowing vortex of a magnificent purple color; draped in the uniforms of truth and justice, they surrounded the entrance with the best amongst themselves, in preventing their enemy from entering into their realm and wreak havoc. Such was the resolve of the enemies of Jubal, hoping to pounce and annihilate Jubal if need be. Many held in their hands whatever they could find - stones for their slingshots, war-hammers, pikes, maces, with shields being common for all - while their champions were armed with the finest of weapons that the realm could conjure, and with which they were prepared in preventing Jubal from entering into their realm. They waited and waited, knowing that it would only be a moment before the first of Jubal’s armored machines will strike and pave the way for Jubal to break through.Jubal end by shehrozeameen
Amongst them was one
A WalkA Walk by shehrozeameen
Picture yourself in Manhattan, see. and in Manhattan your walking on the side walk - you know the pedestrian path so to speak - and your walking towards someplace peaceful... and so you cross two pedestrian lights, take a turn to the left (instinctively because you just want someplace to be in where you can just be yourself) and you continue walking... and you walk till you come towards a suburban area. And in this suburban area you walk a little more ahead and you enter this park entrance. There's a guard there, he looks at you and knows you're not going to get into trouble. So he lets you in. And you walk into the park and you're hopelessly in love with it. You walk a little further and see Arcadias and jasmine and roses and weeping willows and oak trees of every age and form... and you keep walking and walking. You're on the main artery of course, it's a wonderfully built road made from gypsum grains and has this roman feel to it... You hum a tune out loud and in between you just sa
|Short Stories from Yours Truly|
|My Quatrains in the Rub'iyaat format made famous by Edward Fitzgerald.|
Happy Reading <------- he's a pervert.
|These works, without needing any description, are my personal favourites. Enjoy!|
In MemoriesAn echo as a whisper old
A bottle of whiskey and a cartridge of ink''It's late,'' he mutters under his caffeinated breath.
ReliefA rock, though outward solid it may seem,
CeasedMy heart would always beat for you
Last Breaths of FortunaShe lay wailing by my side,
How Can IHow can I keep moving on,
A child plays in the yard.And she fell in the arms of autumn,
serpentPretending to be a lover,
A Gentleman and his DaemonDear Gentleman,
AphroditeFrom the very moment my eyes beheld thee -
NaPoWriMo Day 8Fine Autumn had come, coloured the leaves red;
Story of a lying girlThat morning, the sun rose for the fourth time. The vastness of the unfamiliar forest weighted down on her aching shoulders. Back at day one, she discovered that every path looped back to an oak tree. It stood tall in the center of a clearing, much like a beacon of some kind. Still, she thought, if she ended up in this place, then there had to be some way out. It was simply a matter of uncovering the exit.
Response to &ldquo;The WarriorResponse to The Warrior s Call
On the Shores
Libra VenerisVenus– Goddess of air and light
DamnationUnwanted child, of the demon inside
Pianissimo There's nothing like coming home after a long day at work to be greeted by her, Always with the same "Good evening, my love", Whispered in my ear pianissimo. There's nothing like taking her out to one of those Christmas parties, and hearing her laugh and mingle among other people. It's so rare to find that: a woman to love, who loves you, and can still laugh and mingle with other people without losing her head and mangling her vows. Even rarer still is the woman who can captivate me the way she does, and always has. Never has there been another that I want to give my heart, body, mind, and soul to. Never has there been another woman who I gave my music to. Even so, every relationship has its ups and downs, like a composition changing from Forte, to Piano, and then back again.
A Celtic's Maiden's MornMy Laird, I look once more out ore rampart tall
Cavern of TimePrologue
i may have drowned but you, you'll burnthe water rose above my collarbone though you promised you'd help keep me on the surface.
My Despairing RavenMy eyes fluttered.
I Am Justin
50.726217, -2.841747We arrived solemnly at a day masquerading as romance. I emerged from the people carrier and ingested the familiarity of the place; Langdon Woods. Now, those pathways are dug into my palms. Deep trenches scratched into the whorls of my fingertips. Reminders of where I've been.
Regards, The Abortionist.A letter came in the mail from a return address I wasn't sure existed for some time. It still did; the address was the exact same. The handwriting was quick and short, and the request seemed simple enough. I put on my coat and found myself walking down the street under a thick grey sky, one hand in my pocket and the other keeping my hat from being claimed by the wind.
Palace of Tombs.I reared myself upon a throne
when you write a poemwrite a thousand you mean and one
Where the Willow weepsFar from town
Weeping WillowI feel the warmth of a summer day –
Every leaf knows its fallWhisper a lullaby,
The Empire's AntsDon’t worry about those pesky little mice,
Pure Gold (Villanelle)
No More The Muse Is Sheslow exquisite pain of her
Yellow.The swing creaked. Mud dripped from the rusty chains. A yellow jacket was thrown on top of it. It moved loosely in the breeze, forgotten. The smell of rain filled my senses. I walked to the jacket – it just waved at me. Small and tiny and dirty, a child’s jacket waved at me. I stretched my hand to take it. Something beeped unnaturally fast. Someone screamed. And then it was all black.
Drone VibratoWhat help would a
to love beyond living
The Soul GathererIn the night, he sparkled bright and clear.
If You Were With Me NowIf you were with me now
PE Prose Basics: Revise and EditProse Basics Week is winding down now and hopefully you've learned a lot from the brilliant past articles. But, there's more to writing than just getting that first draft done, isn't there? That's where the next big crucial step comes in: revision.
The Art of Revising:
Revision is such a huge topic to cover, especially since there are many ways to go about it. You can do self-edits, which always are a good first step, or you can get outside revisions from peers. Both are good ideas to really get your work to be top notch. But, the big thing to remember is that there's more to just editing your work than cleaning up a few spelling and grammar mistakes. Revising also includes corrections to sentence flow, scenes, and sometimes overall plot. So, before we jump into some ways to edit, here are a few different terms of methods of editing that may be handy to know-- especially if you're asking a peer to help you with revisions.
PE Prose Basics: Pacing ( and Show vs. Tell)Hello, everyone! As you all know, this week over at projecteducate is Prose Basics. We're here to help all you prose writers (whether flash fiction, short stories, or novels) get better at your craft with some basic tips for growth. Today, I'm going to be talking about something you've probably heard about again and again: pacing.
What is Pacing?
No, it's not what you do when you're stuck on a scene and need to get up and stretch those leg muscles to get your writing juices flowing. It's actually a very important ability that writers have to control the speed their story is read. You as the author get to manipulate the reader in a way and make the speed of the story match the scene. What better way to drop the reader right into the moment? But, pacing also holds the ability to make or break your story and keep or lose your reader's interest. This is why it's so important in writing.
Setting the Scene:
Love dA Lit: Issue 159Welcome to the one-hundred fifty-ninth issue of Love dA Lit! Every Sunday this article will aim to promote volunteer opportunities, various resources, prompts, challenges, and workshops, as well as highlighting various contests. This is by no means a complete list of all the literature going-ons, merely a tool to help you get involved and stay informed.
Note: It's HaikuWriMo month [Haiku Writing Month]!
LITplease's Community Portal
A Smattering of Lit News
Literature Links | Workshops, Prompts and Challenges
Literature Contests | Resources |
Maddy's Tips: Building a Strong PortfolioAfter receiving a few emails recently asking for portfolio feedback and general advice, I decided to write up a small list of tips that can help a student or graduate create a portfolio that game studios will want to look at.
Degree ≠ Job. A lot of studios don't look in a resume for where you went to school. The first thing they're interested in the quality of work in your portfolio. If you have the skills, then you probably have the job!
Do more than homework. Lot's of college students get turned down by studios because they give them a portfolio that only has school work in it. Studios look for people that create more outside of class. It can range anywhere from fan art to designing your own characters.
Get on forums. Stay active on the game art forums like Polycount or others like CGHub and GameArtisans. Post your work and speak with other aspiring game artists and professionals all over those sites. Lots of studios
Art History Project- Omar Khayyam
Omar Khayyam, (Lit: "Omar The Tentmaker), was born, (circa 1051), at Nishapur in Khorassan, (A region in N.W. Persia). Omar was a very inquisitive boy, in possession of a good mind, and soaked up the education afforded by his father's prosperity, ...judging by his later achievements. Omar probably learnt his father's trade and became a tent-maker for a while. Omar travelled around his country and nearby areas visiting places like Samarkand and Isfahan, (Isfahan has some of the most beautiful Temples I have ever seen!, the entrance to the Main one has tiles of the most exquisite and colourful designs unrivalled anywhere in my humble opinion...), no doubt exchanging ideas and researching with some of those he met. He died in 1131 and is buried in the Khayyam Garden at the mausoleum of Imam Zadeh Mahruq in Nishapur.
728 years later, an English linguist, Edward FitzGerald, published, (in the sa
F09 - New Chapters and New Points Challenge Soon:iconF09:
Suggested by homunculus888
R.E.D. by Squidlauncher13 Merlin by Squidlauncher13
Suggested by Ayame6464
Skulls by zephyr0713 animal - wolf by zephyr0713
General Photography CVs - what do we actually DO?Since it's Daily Deviations week, a quick revamp over what the General Photography Community Volunteers can DD - and can't - seemed to be fitting! For starters, those who don't know - your current General Photography Community Volunteers are Kaz-D and 3wyl. For those who aren't aware of the 'lingo' within the galleries, here's a very short glossary...
Getting Down with the Lingo
This is the common term for Daily Deviations. The Daily Deviation is a daily feature chosen from the galleries here on deviantART. A small assortment of submissions are chosen each day by a select group of staff/volunteer members who wish to showcase an image which they found impressive or otherwise interesting enough to deserve being brought to the attention of the community-at-large. This information can be readily found here -> :faq61:
This is the short way of saying, Animals, Plants and Nature - a sub-gall
Grammar lessons for the Street Photographer
Loosely based on "About Looking" by John Berger en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Ber…
If you look them up in any dictionary of modern occidental language you'll find out that the two verbs 'to see' and 'to look' mean two different cognitive actions, complementary but somehow opposite. The definition in the dictionary shows it clearly: 'to perceive with the eyes' (to see) opposed to 'to direct one's eyes in a given direction or on a given object' (to look) which still implies employing one's sight.
There are many factors contributing to the distinction:
- First of all is the 'intention'. To look presumes a will, an intention, that seeing doesn't necessarily entail.
- The 'orientation'. The eyesight can be general and unfocused, while the gaze is focused on something, even when we stare into emptiness.
- The 'duration'. 'To see' do
Explaining Fixed Form Poetry With An ExampleHey everyone, Shays here
Last time, ya'll will recall I had talked about writing dA critiques and the nature of literary criticism, found below:
so, today's tutorial is concerning fixed form poetry. My selection today will be:
The Fall of Epithilinon by Zark123
If you were expecting a poem by Poe, Shelly, Byron, Tennyson, Frost, Burns, or even Kristen Stewart, then .
Anyway, lets get started.
about the artist
Zark123, Arka Basu, is an Indian student currently completing a BA from the University of Loughborough, UK. With that said, he has been on dA for two years now (and has entered his third year on this site). For the duration that I have been watching Arka, he mostly writes Sonnets, Free Verse, the occasional Sestina, and the occasional prose as well. For now, lets talk about the work which was highlighted in this work.
Some Thoughts About Friendship ..."Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart."
:::My Secret Friend:::
"True friends stab you in the front."
"A single rose can be my garden... a single friend, my world."
The Cycle of PassionNever knowing eyes never did haunt us
’Tis our own ditty which fails to daunt us;
The amorous rose or the lovebird’s lustre
Leaves but two shades for a season’s fluster,
Yet the poet’s pen is perchance guided
With rabid romance, nature unprovided -
For summer songs are bare conversation
Betwixt life and long winter’s predation:
Pale thirst for passion or higher power
Quenches its quaff in the quiet hour,
The soul’s tragedy is in demanding
Liberty lost from body remanding
Creation’s cold woes and callous joys, cannot grace
Vanity’s visage or the selfsame face,
In vain, we swallow the daily smother
To love ourselves, we love another.
|Critique is such a hard job - but somebody's gotta do it. I for one, am proud of my critiques.|