Mehreen Ahmed

3 weeks ago | ultramarinereview.com | Mehreen Ahmed

Mehreen Ahmed 3 days ago 2 min read by Mehreen Ahmed In the Egyptian State of the Niles Baby Cleo was up at 3 AM demanding a feed when no one else was around to come to her aid but her Grandmother who loved her as did the clinging Cleo when the feeling grew between them the Grandmother who did what was needed to be done knowing full well that the state of the Niles exploited her them all the Grandmothers alike to serve the grandchildren when a benign state would have provided free night...

Sep 28, 2024 | porch-litmag.com | Mehreen Ahmed

by Mehreen AhmedOkay, if in the next twenty-four hours, King George didn’t turn up, I was going to paste a poster on every wall for a missing cat. I was certain that someone would know where the cat went. Then, when I looked at the ocean, the big waves somersaulting, I thought who could survive this? What if King George drowned? I felt trepidation. That’s what must have happened; maybe he fell accidentally and the cat died. Why would it go out on a treacherous day like this?

Sep 21, 2024 | madswirl.com | Mehreen Ahmed

The wind was rough. I woke up. In the early dawn, the door rattled in the storm. My pain increased. I held on to the flimsy bed frame. A sweet summer’s day, the winds revved up in the hands of a novice driver. Five years of age. Another midmorning, some clouds had gathered. I opened the windows and a sudden gust of wind whipped my face as it passed through the hut. My hair blew wild over my face, veiling it in a mass of dark locks.

Jul 24, 2024 | quailbellmagazine.com | Mehreen Ahmed

In a poem contrarily;the poet then must blend in a hyper-reality; As Keats maintains in his concept of ‘Negative Capability.’ What’s a poet’s relationship with poetry? Must it remain separate either oily or watery? Or should it choose its own analogy? Own stance in creativity? A poet’s relationship with the art,either fully submerged or in part, is incapable of seeing an ingrown wart, an outsider of a world of smooth skin swart.

May 20, 2024 | theargylelitmag.com | David Estringel |Mehreen Ahmed

a circle of fifthsPast Sehri, a distant azaan from the minaret of a local mosque wakes, Rifaat. She yawns and turns off the alarm, set to ring at 5:53 am, on a pale morning; the morning azaan, every Ramadan, reminds her of Raja—King. Raja he sure was; gilded, he was not. Without a kingdom to rule, or any gold throne to ascend, people throned him in their hearts, even when they mourned. For he was the “People’s King,” which everyone called him.