Sunday Blogging

Sunday Blogging

This was one of the best weeks in recent time. I am extremely delighted to start my new topic “The Chosen One’ and you will see many Authors and Writers introduced to you through this Saturday Topic.

Secondly I have recently started receiving few works from various writers as contributors to my new book. For those who are reading this for the first time you can refer here – Sunday Blogging- Sunday, April 15, 2012

For others who are still waiting to send their work; please send them at shamsud.ahmed@gmail.com. I have shortlisted 5 writers as of now and have replied to them with details of the work. I also have few foreign writers who are willing to contribute and would include some of their work too.

This week also saw two of my work being reviewed and I am extremely happy with the feedback:

Review on my book – Absquatulate

I came across this book by accident, but boy, was I pleasantly surprised.
First of all, I was surprised by an Indian writing about nature in a way the west writes nature poetry. Sub-continental poetry tends to be about love and emotions of sense of being, rather than about recollections in tranquility.
He IS Romantic:
A fancy has no boundary;
Should I sneak into your heart?
And write my name with light;  
Should I seal it before the day break?
I don't want to get late,
Should it take its own course instead?

However,what differentiates his poetry purely from being romantic is his expert use of nature.A poem about nearness and affection is followed by one about the rise of the sun,or the fall of night,both working in harmonious conjunction with each other.Here is an example of nature working in conjunction with affectionate emotion.It is called 'Doggerel':
My sunshine vanished in the cloud,
And the moon cleverly hides you in its shadow;
Whom should I blame?
You blamed it on the sun.
I love the way Shamsud combines the human with the natural.As a result of reading this book,I am willing to risk my money on his other works which I am going to download after this review.I thoroughly enjoyed it, I think those who like to read about the combination of the human with the natural should also love it.
One minor niggle is that there are one of two glaring typos that need to be corrected.As I said, they won't stop me from buying his other books but others it may deter...BRAVO and best of luck with all your future endeavours Shamsud.
As a writer of poetry myself I know how difficult it is to write what he is writing...and once again, i wish him the best of luck:

Customer Review on my book – Fallen Star

The opening of FALLEN STAR mentions that Shamsud Ahmed delivers "equal parts love and mystery, adventure and romance," in his poetry book.

Even though the collection is quite concise (about 32 print pages), the scope of the poems is indeed full-ranging. Reading can be a very subjective and personal experience (especially when it comes to poetry and/or "thoughtful prose")--one of the poems that I really enjoyed in this collection is the one titled "Existence."
 
I'm not going to include that poem in its entirety here, but I'll say that the poem sums up the theme in 5 paragraphs very nicely.

Some of the poems are a little bit "rough around the edges," though to me this added to their charm and originality. I've always liked reading and writing, and I greatly appreciate it when a writer or poet is willing to leave things a little bit raw so as to capture a moment or emotion more honestly and sincerely. This, of course, is different from just plain lazy or sloppy writing (where there's often zero thought or concern for the emotional nuances or intricacies involved with choice of wording, or style).

The poem titled "Dance" had a really nice rhythm to it, and "Moribund" and "Personified!" feature great description. "A Pinch" features the following line: "A pinch of struggle for a pinch of win," which I thought was both witty and playful/insightful. I liked the choice of poem to end off the collection too. I will not say what it is here to prevent any spoilers ;)

I would have liked the author bio at the end to have been a little bit longer, so that we could view a little bit more of the mind and personality behind the poetry! That being said, perhaps Mr. Shamsud Ahmed prefers to let the poetry do the talking for him (re: his bio and experiences). I look forward to the poems and stories Shamsud will have to tell, whether inspired by the past, present or future.

As visitors to my Blog I would have more than happy to share a copy of one of my book you. Simply drop an email I will send a copy of my book. However, one of my books Debauched Medicament can be downloaded free for the next 2 days from Amazon. Please take the advantage and if you like the book; please do leave a review.

Cheers and Keep Winning,

Shamsud Ahmed

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The Chosen One - Jess C Scott

Poet Q & A / 

Jess C Scott

With Sunday Blogging doing well; I am planning to introduce a new section where I will post details of interviews and experience with various writers and Poets. Today I would like to introduce you to Jess C Scott. Jess is an author/artist/non-conformist who’s dedicated to writing original stories that are both meaningful and entertaining. Most of her work is fueled by an intense drive to inspire others to favor social/spiritual values over shallow values.

Her website is www.jessINK.com

 

Her books are available in Amazon and I very happily recommend her work to you all poetry lovers. Please find below a short interview with this ‘Haiku Queen’

  

Describe yourself in 5 words:

Person behind jessINK dot com

Share a short excerpt and blurb of your work (10-100 words):

I wrote this a few years ago. It’s in a (psuedo) haiku collection titled, Instantaneous (In)sanity.

Functions in Analysis

God made us a brain

To sustain the insane pain

Of testing its use.

Share an excerpt of your favorite poet’s work (10-100 words):

I have many favourites, but one that has always stood out is the Zen poet, Ryokan.

I like this one in particular.

Too Lazy to be Ambitious

Too lazy to be ambitious,

I let the world take care of itself.

Ten days’ worth of rice in my bag;

a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.

Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment?

Listening to the night rain on my roof,

I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.

Did reading a poem first spark the desire to write poetry, or was it an experience?:

I attended a creative writing workshop when I was nine or ten (which was how I was first introduced to the ‘haiku’ 5-7-5 syllable format). I was drawn to the format because it was both fun and challenging. I write short stories and novels at the moment, though I’ll always enjoy reading and writing poetry. It is a literary form which demands a high level of technical ability along with aesthetic appreciation!

What goal do you seek through your poetry?

Clarity of thought, precision, and transcendence.

Please share your #1 tip for poets/writers:

Keep reading and writing, and always be open to learning something new (that’d be my advice for anyone who wants to achieve something in life, not just poets/writers!).

Your websites/blogs/etc:

www.jessINK.com

www.jessINK.com/insanity.htm

Have a great day!

Shamsud

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Order in Chaos

Order in Chaos

Whoosh! Whoosh! The sound of thunder,

Inside, my heart thumping;

Suppressed and deep seated,

Never expressed,

Jittery Jittery frazzled Fidgety.

Let me move on,

For tomorrow I might not cry for that moon,

I seek comfort in the sunshine today;

‘Cause sadness would be put to rest for a while,

I seek solace in the the wild.

I am squeamish about living,

Death itself is misleading;

I sojourn!

For a few moments to wobble your mind;

There are souls in the souk,

Not one- my Kind!

Shamsud

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Boat of Life

foodnframe
Boat of Life!

Common verse, common sense,

Look at life in the past tense,

Nonsense!

Round and round swinging sound,

In dimness life is found.

Twining twining the boat of life,

I wait for you;

Coiling twisting winding looping,

The boat of life!

Opus assorted for a rendezvous,

Opinions and judgments crushed today;

This skirmish is never ending,

But I wait for a union – by the bay.

Twining twining the boat of sorrow,

Coiling twisting winding looping;

The boat of life!

Shamsud

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Sphinxlike!

A simple poem with a message. Hope you like it.

Sphinxlike

Life plays hide and seek,

Lost a friend today,

To bad health and habit,

Immediate fear – can’t get rid of it.

We cultivate sorrow in our backward,

And let the devil water them,

We seek solace in poison,

Always ignoring the unseen hand.

Shamsud-

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Bygone!

Bygone!

There are rights there are wrong,

There are stories and untold song,

There are young and there are old;

These are memories from days long-gone.

Hide and seek behind the creek,

Balls and sticks till the fingers bleed;

Garden fruit and valley of flower,

Dirt and dust when cloud thundered shower.

Summery heat and wintry chill,

The brazen clashes and all those thrill;

Paper boat war and mud sling shots,

Girls are cool and all chums hot.

Clammy hands and filthy feet;

We hung on and we all eat,

Nocturnal movies and many plan sheets;

With every new enthusiasm, heart double beats.

Now I sit here and rock the chair,

And look at myself and back at time;

Even now those memories make me shine,

A verse committed to those days – divine.

Shamsud

Phote Source: Google

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Father

Father

Never looked into those eyes,

Oh! Never, never;

Never broke the trust,

Of hope, destiny and lust,

Days bygone were rough;

And irrefutable as the mark at birth.

Ever stood in front and never asked,

The money for the movie or for the bus;

Mother fulfilled those request at last,

Cleaned those wounds and those dirt,

Minutes in the garden, hours at the tub,

I have grown up at last.

Beavered through the days and sometimes at night,

I remember his days and those frost bytes;

The mountain looks fiery at night,

I was a hill under his height,

He showed me light when the world switched me off,

My Super hero – for you I always rose.

Shamsud

Phote Source: Google

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Sunday Blogging - Bump Ahead

As discussed in my last Post (Sunday Blogging) I have received few mails with some poems but I would need lot more to compile the book. Let the mails coming :)) Read here for more

Anyway I have a story. This is pure fiction and i have written in the best of the spirit and there is no intention to hurt anyone. There is a nice moral at the end which would appear in the next - Sunday Blogging Page.

BUMP AHEAD

‘Drat this bike’, Abid cursed as he kick started it for the third time, every time you are in a hurry, “something has to go wrong with this Uzi machine, as if we have got all the time in this moth eaten world” Pranjal let him speak, He knows him very well, Abid is such a guy he will go on cursing, if he has nothing better to do. They both realized, today they are both in for a soup. Pranjal wished they had come back earlier as they’ve thought of, but the whiskey was tempting, such days don’t come all the time, so they had thought as they gulped peg after peg on the get together of their college annual gathering. Soon they ran out of whiskey and the party ended abruptly. And they were late for home. Lastly home is another world where everything goes by the book.

The night is dark, wet and bitterly cold and it sure hurts the ears a nigh too close as Abid winded the accelerator. They were both near drunk and Abid once nearly collapsed as they halted for lighting a cigarette. So Pranjal took over the reins after a lot of arguments.

“Holy Shit!” yelled Abid, as the bike suddenly gave way and the engine turned mute after a little while.

“Something wrong with the engine, Abid, the mammoth is consuming like a punctured tanker” as he turned the switch for reserved oil and started the engine again”

“I wished I’d checked on it before; old Saikia told me about the li’l problem, but balls anyway.

For a while they went smoothly, and then the bike broke down again. And after a lot of cursing the gods and kicking, it somehow found life, as Abid took to the reins.

The night air is cold and misty as they both kept on the road in a moderate speed; they hoped it won’t happen again. The headlight showed on clear road ahead. At this time they both knew, they would hardly come across any traffic, and these sub-routes were least ventured by anybody as trouble from either the police or the military is eminent. And they both are not a sight to be left alone if by any chance they come across a check post. This fear is still at the back of their mind.

“I think we better took to oak-street at the cross roads,” Abid yelled back to Pranjal. “That’s what I was thinking, there won’t be any check post in oak-street now,’ It’s so deserted,’ Pranjal yelled back. Oak Street is a better choice; most of the other routes are heavily reinforced, after the extremists blew up a military van in close proximity. And the forces even more wilder now, and at this time they will shoot first then ask question. So at fox hole point, they took to Oak Street, a stony road that badly needs repair and so very few vehicle took that way.

The road was jittery and teeth chattering all the way, they hoped the whole thing don’t come apart under the impact.

“Pranjal,” Abid yelled in an alarmed tone,

“Turn around and have a better look” I think I saw a light tailing us from behind. “Pranjal whirled around and scrutinized the street. The road is narrow and straight and so he could see a long way up, but he could see no light, “No, Abid” I don’t see any damn light; and for the devil’s sake, don’t get panicky; a fall on this road and we’ll be at a loss, few of our bones perhaps, you are bloody hallucinating”

“What??” Abid yelled, as the sound of the bike drowned all other sound and he could not hear a thing.

“What?????” Pranjal asked puzzled facing the same problem. But before Abid could reply the bike lurched down ward, which lifted Pranjal off his seat and flung him over head many feet above the ground and the last thing he saw was Abid’s eyes filled with horror as he fell somewhere and the resounding noise of the bike as it hit the road somewhere, a sudden light blinded him for a moment and then it was all silent for him.

Abid’s nerves has teased at the sight of the light behind him, but he never could realise how he lost his nerves as he saw the huge pot hole in the road and Pranjal’s body hurling in front of him, but one thing puzzled him, how could the Municipal leave such a big pot-hole un repaired, had the speed been higher, Why? They could‘ve met with gory deaths. What the heck??

Something is very odd? Abid wrecked his brain; but what is odd? He thought again; He could feel something very wrong. This is not the first time he had befallen an accident, But now something seems very odd, suddenly some where inside he fell it, of course! How could it be?

He thought, purple haze running through his mind, Strange! He isn’t colliding; he couldn’t feel the impact,  the fall, as if he was going spirally into a bottomless pit,, there seems to be no end to it, he could not see anything, although he could feel and recall everything, and the strongest thing is he could see himself falling from a distant. A bitter and cold thought engulfed his mind, is it death??? to be dead? Is this how the dead feels? A cold sweep of questions floated across his mind, but he could not find a single solution to his questions. If he is falling down then why is his body going down, as long as he knows only the spirits moves away, the body remains on earth. Earth?? Is he leaving earth? What the heck? How was he thinking?? odd? Could a spirit think? Yah! Few of the movies showed that...But he is going down and he is not able to see his body anywhere…Hell! He is moving with his body and he still stinks of alcohol. Does he need to go to hell without a proper bath? Lot of question…and he is moving at a speed he cannot explain. This is no time for fun and he needs answer but for all his answers he could just watch himself going down and down. Suddenly he could see ahead of him, which means he is looking through his eyes down…that means he is going to hell, isn’t that what the book says “bout” Heave n and Hell.  He is not sure for how many hours days or months he needs to move before he reach “Hell”…that means hell is the center of the earth which is the hottest spot and is equivalent to the temperature outside the Sun….He even hates the Sun of Rajasthan and came back 5 days before the scheduled date, now he has to bear the brunt of hell.

                 For Abid, he has spent a life under a big question mark. He has always contradicted the Gods of either world. He has been a maverick and a die hard atheist all his life. He never understood how one religion can be superior to another or vice versa. We get our religion by virtue of our birth and how can that God be at the top of all other Gods or is it that there are many Gods with their own identity and are equally powerful? He remained confused all his life and never bothered to follow any protocols. Slowly Abid began to drift away in an inner spiral of his own. He closed his eyes and surrendered himself to fate.  There is no turning back now.  “This is not fair” he thought “I cannot die so early, what about my dreams? What…what about….so many questions came to his mind. He doesn’t know how long he had been in this way, but when he opened his eyes, he could see strange light all around him, he has never seen such a colour before, the colour which now engulfed everything in his field of vision. He is not sure if these colours are beyond the Vibgyor.  “Human being has a long way to go’ He thought. There are crude shaped objects all around, objects he had never seen before. He could feel himself walking a hazed way, the light is so bright, and he could hardly see the objects and their weird design. He did not realise when he got stopped flying and started walking. “Does people go walking to hell, these are strange dimensions” he thought, he knew he surely is in a never never- land. This surely is hell, ’cause he never had done anything in favour of the Gods, he has always ridiculed them, cracked slimy jokes on them, for he knew such utopia never existed and he has not spared a single God. So this is Hell that means somewhere he will come across LMG, one of his friends who died a year ago. Lakhi Madhav Gogoi aka LMG was a good friend who died in a freak accident when his bike hit a road roller. Suddenly he could feel the light change in the colour and again he entered another weird dimension which also is covered by another bizarre light and just ahead of him he could see someone standing with folded hands. The face, he could not see much as because of the light. This surely could be the God of Death.

“Allo”, Abid uttered in a hollow voice, a week smile covered his face, he could just guess what was meted for him, and he didn’t like it.

                The tall character didn’t gave a reply, but slowly turned around and walked slowly ahead of Abid, somehow Abid could understand that the strange person wanted him to follow. Abid followed with him, for how long he couldn’t tell, strangely he could not feel the time, time doesn’t seem to be of any importance or a considerable factor here. He did not feel any pain and he didn’t feel thirsty or hungry here. “Where is Pranjal”, he though. Ideally he should have been walking alongside him; he too is a person who is fit for hell like LMG. “Did he survive the accident”?

The tall figure stopped abruptly just a few steps ahead of him. Abid also stopped, again the light changed into another bizarre colour, this time in moving circles all around him obscuring his sight of vision. This time Abid started walking along side the stranger as if he knows the place and have visited before. He was not able to comprehend few of his thoughts and somehow realised that those were forced into him from some deep seated source inside him. Abid could now hear voices around.

The light again changed and this time to a bright unknown colour. He could see a lot of faces, lot of people…Gods...he is not sure…so many of them?? He thought.

The figure in beside him disappeared. He didn’t get an opportunity to talk to him. In his place Abid could see a face that he vaguely remembered seeing somewhere before. Slowly he could see the light fading away and objects appeared from vagueness though a strange colour surrounded the whole area. He looked around and it seems he was standing of a kind of bizarre arena. There were different figures around him in weird costumes. And suddenly the figure in front of him announced his “Abid Wasim!” the figure said in booming voice. “This is the last call for me to enter Hell” Abid thought.

Suddenly a bright ray of light caught Abid’s eye. Abid turned his face to have a good look. A familiar face loomed just ahead of him. He tried to remember all the books, TV serials and Movies he has seen in his live on all the Gods he knew and remembers.

Abid flashed a “smile” ‘I think I’ve seen you somewhere before’ Abid said to the figure in front who seems to be clad in a kind of modern dhoti and a thin scarf across his lithe body.

“Are you Rama?” Abid asked again …of of “Ramayana” I mean of Ayodhya.

“No!” the figure boomed, “I am his brother Laxman”

“Oh Sorry!” Abid said suddenly a hope gleamed in Abid’s face. Are you the real God or…?

“We have all of them here”

“ Oh!” Abid again asked “Is this heaven”

“No!” the figure said.

“Then how come….I mean …you should be in Heaven, right? “Abid uttered somehow felt awkward’

“Right, I am from heaven, Currently I am the lord of both the world, heaven and Hell, he said pompously and would remain so for few more generations of human being and then someone else would take over.

“How nice!” “Abid said stupidly,

“So this is hell”, Abid said again falteringly knowing his position.

“No, this is just the porch to either way. Your case will be decided soon, where you‘ll be going.” Laxman said assuringly, “right now, we are waiting for the great Allah as you are a Muslim, you’ll have to face the consequences from him, he will judge your stand. If you are found to have led a life by the book you all go to the Muslim division of heaven or else the counterpart; as you know.

Abid remembered his father and many of his lectures and the importance of prayers. He felt a sharp pain in his heart and he realised that he has few minutes before he is thrown to the eternal fire and where he would keep burning forever till the time he is cleansed and is eligible to go to heaven. “At least I will get an opportunity to see the great Allah before going to Hell, I am missing Pranjal” He thought. Pranjal is not dead. He should have survived the accident. He would meet Lord Laxman many years from now and I hope he does some good things to counter his sins.” A faint smile engulfed his face. A smile of fear, he is very sure…

Suddenly another figure appeared in front of him. This time Abid did not take much time to recognize the character. “Hi Jesus; “Abid waved. Jesus waved back, “hi, there Abid” he said. Laxman looked quizzically as Jesus.

“Your Majesty, I think there is something very wrong here” That’s why I came over and more Gods are on their way; this guys over there is a total maverick, an atheist, he has never led a life as Allah has meted out to the Muslims. This is a difficult situation for all the Gods and most of them are consulting and sorting this out. I am not sure how much more time it would take before a judgment could be passed.  This guy here is used to most of the vices that were strongly opposed by Allah. He drinks almost everyday, never went to the mosque, never read the book and the worst of all pork seems to be his favourate piece of meat” Jesus halted.

“Then young man, I guess, you’ll only rot in Hell and the Muslim hell is one of the worst of all hell and the calculations here is very critical and I have hardly seen anyone released before the due date for a place in the eights heaven” Laxman said with contempt. “All sinners have to go to some hell” Laxman concluded pointing to a direction which Abid could not understand.

“Wait” Jesus said.

 To be continued

Moribund

Moribund

Don't you know?

Don’t you know?

Loving you is not enough

But I need you to stay

Life always has its own way.

Can’t you go?

Can’t you go?

To come back and stay.

Even breathing torments my soul;

Heart-beat permeates and old stories unfold.

Words cannot reflect pain,

And substantiate those perpetual ponderings;

Can’t we try?

Can’t we try?

To build the unseen house;

And nurture our unborn child

Oh! Don’t you know?

Shamsud

Photsource: Google search

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Mother

Mother

Today after countless years, I reminisce the days,

When I used to run ahead of my Ma excited,

She following me with equal delight;

I wish I had followed her all the way.

Today when I am away, I remember,

The nights when she laid her hands on me;

And the days when she waits for me,

To come home for my nibbles and tea.

I don’t have anything in that old house;

But my Mom;

I have worked all these years to get back home,

to my Ma and lay in her bosom.

I grew up crying at her breast;

I lay here now with tears with innate cognizance,

Now I wake up in the middle and talk to my pillows;

Life has highs and I am now drawn to my lows.

Is it worth?

To live a life of a dog,

To achieve the unachievable?

While carnage your chums and all that counted once;

And let her grow feeble and old;

I lost her ageing soul – the heart of gold.

Let me go back and inquire about her dreams,

Let me identify if I was mean?

I never tried to see her aspirations,

Never desires and questioned those perspirations;

Now I close my eyes and see her ever smiling face,

I hear voices from across the darkness;

“Go back before it gets too late”

Shamsud

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This entry is a part of the contest at BlogAdda.com in association with imlee.com

Fallen Star - A Collection

Dear Readers,

How are you today?

I hope those who are looking at becoming a published author has started working on my last post – Sunday Blogging. In case you have missed the post please visit now to check and also share with people who would love to Publish their Poetry/Short Stories.

From your Blog to a Paperback. Click below to read more and also share with anyone you know.

I have received few emails and poems; however I would need many more to reach a decision. I will share few more emails on HOW TO PROMOTE and few other things where the authors needs to involve themselves.

OK…I have some other news too J

I am extremely happy to let you know that I have published my second paperback – Fallen Star  The Book is a collection of Modern Poetry most of them are modified from my regular poems. However, this is an experimental book as I have added poems of various genres in one book to understand readers opinions. This is actually my preparation for my next Book “ Shades And Verses” which I am planning to publish before Christmas this year.

I have tried to deliver equal parts love and mystery, adventure and romance, in this Book of Poetry. Do not be surprised if you get nostalgic after reading few of this Poems. I will wait for feedback from my readers.

I would be more than happy to share a copy of the book. Watch this space for the soon to be organized Giveaway or you can drop an email at mysticverse@yahoo.in . I will send 5 e-book after random selection J

Cheers and keep Winning,

Shamsud

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Kerfuffle

Kerfuffle 
Form Sunshine to Shadows,

Moonlight brightened by the meadows;

Something engraved in the human heart,

Few roads are obscured- tears apart.

I take the road to sanity,

A road never used for eons;

Enemy- you make and from chums you learn,

But jealousy is also a fame you can only earn.

I grow happiness in my backyard,

You never know the bad days;

I grow hilarity too,

And wait for the sunrays,

To disseminate my produce to humanity;

Free those Purblind from vanity.

Shamsud Ahmed

Source: bellaprate.yolasite 

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Sunday Blogging

Sunday Blogging - An Opportunity

Please do not speed read 

I have recently started visiting more blogs and have started exploring new avenues. We have some great authors of both prose and poetry who are doing a great job and I am really impressed by the quality of their content. While working on my new book “Shades and Verses”, (which would be a collection of 50 selected poems) something stuck me and hence this new post for me to understand how many of you would be ready to work together.

I am planning to come up with a compilation of Poetry from various bloggers and create a paperback of 50 poems. Please note that copyright of each of the poems will remain with the original author and he/she would hold all the rights. This will be a strictly pro-bono affair with equal credit shared of course with a structured arrangement though. I am sure this would be first of its kind collaborative effort in India. I do not know about rest of the world. Till now this is something done by the Publishing house or literary agent. We are going to do this for the first time and there are some risks involved. 

 Few important pointers before I move ahead.

1.       There is no investment or associated cost from your end as I will bear the initial cost

2.       A ‘First book’ does not make enough profit. The writer gets 15% of the total profit which means that a book costing somewhere around Rs.150 would generate a profit of Rs. 15- Rs.20 which is not big but with very high volume there is chance of profit. The sellers charge high amount for putting their book in their sites

3.       I will consider that the contributors are not looking at profit in the first edition

4.       Contributors would work hard to promote their work ( I will tell you how)

5.       The book would not be available in any book store

6.       The book would be solely available in websites like FLIPKART, UREAD and few other Indian websites

7.       The book would also be available in Amazon, Alibris etc.

8.       I am looking for 30 poets to contribute 50 poems

Now that you have read the above pointers and in case you are ready to contribute let me move ahead. I will need 3 of your best work and an author Bio (Example below in Lulu or check the link here). Please send your work in an email (word doc format with your Bio). Once received, I will discuss with the publisher and get the setup done in few days for publishing the work.

 We have some great photographers and artist who can contribute the cover page. They would get their due credit as contributors with their name in the book. Authors Bio and other contributors would be published separately at the end of the book.

 

If its sound exciting and you want to contribute you can leave your queries below and I will try and respond to you at the earliest. Those willing to contribute can simply drop an email with their best work to shamsud.ahmed@gmail.com (yep...That’s me).

If I see success in this venture we will soon move to short stories and continue publishing poetry as concurrent volume of both prose and poems.

There would be many questions in your mind and I hope to clarify one by one in a separate post. 

I will scrap the whole idea in case I do not see enough response. Currently I am scripting few stories for one my dear friend who is producing a TV serial in the NORTH EAST of India and I will get very busy in few days. However before that I would like to accomplish this task. 

Please get back to me with your thoughts and let me understand if we can do something here.

Please share this post with as many people possible so that we get 30 great write so that we provide the best of Poetry to our readers.

Cheers and Keep Winning,

Shamsud Ahmed

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