|Poetry from yours truly|
MistressOh fair maiden, doth sent thee thine ember gold yonderMistress by shehrozeameen
onwards through the brittle twilight,
as the morrow, struck forth from amaranth sunrise
shines down to the divine brethren, that is
His servant's cries coming near.
Bear thee, oh bear thee, with thine wondrous love for
A distant traveler thus held back
For his being was lost in the cataclysmic abyss
That bears out to the trembling sorrow
Oh fair maiden, doth sent thee thine ember gold yonder
Edit 12 July 2013: Looking back at this work, I do feel that it can be improved. So, considering all that I have learnt, and all that I know (and also, this poem's history) I'll change it into something much more... suitable and satisfying.
This is in a Terza Rima format. Happy reading.
I forgive you, Trojan Maiden
Withering like autumn leaves, Trojan maiden -
Your hands which have berthed my compounding demise;
I stutter your name which my soul's forbidden.
Deprived, constrained and forgotten, I arise,
With confounded chuckles I woo in desp
|Poetry from yours truly|
Jubal's TerrorFANTASY THEME - SHORT STORYJubal's Terror by shehrozeameen
The warrior Ma’e stood watching the tyrant Jubal, coolly observing him as he made his melancholic steps towards Ma’e... the alert warrior made sharp observations as he waited for the ‘savage’ to make his move. Armed with the Eye of Terror, Jubal was not a being to be trifled with - and given how far Ma’e had reached; it was more than terror that Ma’e had to worry about. He raised his gauntlets to his face and declared, “Be wary, Jubal. You shall breathe your last today!”
Jubal was unconcerned. His avarice towards the threat spat out by Ma’e left a sense of un-comforting anxiety in Ma’e - but he had reached this far he was not going to simply let the matter go. So he declared with a louder and more booming voice, “Jubal, do you hear me?! I am he who shall vanquish you from this world!”
Jubal looked at Ma’e. He was a fair skinned, al
Uno - A Halloween storyUnoUno - A Halloween story by shehrozeameen
Goody and Happy laughed the while away while driving through the serene streets of their town, the countryside a lavish coloring of gold and brown. The sun shined, shining the houses with their occupants busy with so their daily lives on a holiday, which in essence was every day since every one put through the daily ups and downs of life with a smile and a hearty laugh. The neighborhood, with its eight houses, were very close the Rays of number 4 and the Sunshine of number 6 were the favorites with their traditional holiday cuisines, while the Regal of number 3 were renown storytellers, whose healthy competition with the humor of the Jays family of number 5 was a hilarious treat for the eyes and music for the ears. But within this tranquil society, the least known was number 1 who was never seen, but whose house had been on rent since its inception and carried with it its share of ghost stories the Regal told with relish and spice.
Of course it didn't matter to Goody
A Boy and A PuppyIt was something like 7.38 in the morning. I'm standing outside on my house's lane, waiting for the van to come and pick me up. I'm looking at the cars passing through the main road, not bothered by their honking and at times their horrendous driving. I don't blame them - at 8 in the morning I'd be as reckless as a platoon of green clothed jarheads trying to conquer a mountain on a molehill, apathetic to the cumbersome protocols that have been broken in achieving that rather awkward and pointless goal. This isn't sarcasm; this is the way life works. You have to be faster than the ordinary fast, or you'll wind up in the tail end of the rat race.A Boy and A Puppy by shehrozeameen
Come to think about it, this rat race of mine isn't going anywhere I see the same vehicles and the same people passing through the same route day in and out, as if the traffic's on auto-pilot and somebody forgot to turn it off. But then again, it's better this way. There's nothing stopping you from winding up with an odd occurrence from ma
|Short Stories from Yours Truly|
The Nightingale and The Stranger(The Stranger)The Nightingale and The Stranger by shehrozeameen
You watched the raindrops, oh nightingale
With your crimson eyes, your stare impales
Leave this world, for your lover awaits
For thee, his cries carried by the gale
In October's bliss, as raindrops fall
I watch the clouds, I whisper my call
I am lost, forlorn, in sheer discord
For I am alone - as are we all
|My Quatrains in the Rub'iyaat format made famous by Edward Fitzgerald.|
Happy Reading <------- he's a pervert.
Critique Department Update: Critic Openings!EDIT: Duties of Critics have been added in this notice. Thanks fernknits for pointing that out. Appreciate it.
Hey Everyone! My name's shehrozeameen and I recently became the new Head of the Critique Department of PoeticalCondition.
This was an administrative decision taken by our boss RiseandBe. I'm succeeding NotenSMSK, who started the critique department. A gem of a boss honestly - punctual, very dilligent in his approach, and particular about how the department was being maintained. Suffice to say, life is more than dA in the end.
Me and NotenSMSK keep in touch outside of dA, so rest assured he's doing well and is in good health - but he's become busy post-graduation due to a job and other non-dA related exercises which require his fullest potential. It was a mutual decision from all three sides.
And thus, ladies and gentlemen, I have something big to tell all of you:
WE HAVE OPENNINGS AVAILABLE FOR NEW CRITICS!
Commissions OpenName of commissioner: shehrozeameen :iconshehrozeameen:and its only for 20 (my cut is 16 , if you want it in real life amount).
Type of Commission: poetry (though epistles are also included)
Number of commissions done: five
From the commissioner:
I love writing poetry, frankly speaking. I can write a poem between 8 and 19 lines. Provided that the theme has been carefully told by the customer, I will send drafts of my progress as often as I can. I can write in both traditional and non-traditional formats.
So far as traditional are concerned, I am not particularly good with sonnets, but I have a decent assessment of syllable count. I don't follow meter. Having said that, I have written terza rimas, rub'iyaat, villanelle, ottava rima, triolets, blank verse, and quatrain style poetry.
So far as non-traditional formats are concerned, I would like to be told what the approach has to be. I'll follow it to
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."
|Critique is such a hard job - but somebody's gotta do it. I for one, am proud of my critiques.|
Unappreciated Works Feature #15The new feature is up now! The works for the month of April 2014 are:fav.me/d7d3jrb - FOR THE CRITIQUES!!! (and you get them as well!)
New Prompt!Hey everyone!fav.me/d7cvxpf - Submit your to the prompt (described in the journal)