#history

909 posts
  • mermaid_soul11 14h

    Relationship class

    The chemistry we have reminds
    me if flames it just keeps growing
    you give me that fire that I desire.
    Our history we have reminds me
    of all the memories that we reminisce
    together.
    The have biology we have are
    compaidable because we fit together.
    The math between us are remarkable
    we do it everyday you and me.
    We're like English because your words
    are gentle to my lips.
    You are my writing to me cause you
    give such emotion with it.
    ©mermaid_soul11

  • _wandering_enigma_ 2d

    Eros's Path

    My heart beats with fearful wanting,
    As I trek down eros's path breathlessly panting,
    While the trees conspire and whisper of stories,
    Of those lost in time and of future histories.

    I hear no sound of rushing comfort,
    I smell only the fragnance of sweet hurt,
    I see no end to this valley as I slip,
    I taste only defeat on my lips.

    The stars say hello as they turn to dust,
    And I fall into the sensuality of lust,
    For beauty layed with the destination,
    And well worth the path I trode on.
    ©_wandering_enigma_

  • israelmgonzalez 2d

    Egon

    A boy languishes in a grey Austrian school
    Hanging fast to the hope if filling his life with color
    Praying for some form of rescue
    That will paint into his life an artistic hue

    Deliverance comes through the hand of Herr Klimt
    Through his brush exposure to the masters
    A chance to be the equal of those masters
    A chance he takes

    He transmits the disjointedness of his world
    Through the distortions in his figures
    The nakedness that his erotica secretes
    Holds a mirror to his society
    From which its own nudity is reflected
    And in anger, it throws him in a cell

    Vienna- what a suffocating place
    So he takes Wally and flees only to be chased out
    Krumau didn't want its girls to be his models
    Sorry Wally, time to hit the road

    To Wally his heart
    To Edith his ring
    Wally leaves never to be seen again
    She will not be his mistress
    Not after all they went through together

    Undaunted he plasmates his passions on canvas
    Does it disturb you Herr art critic?
    Have you never contemplated your nakedness?
    Or that of the world around you?
    And now what's that cannon fire I hear?

    War starts and he's fitted for a uniform
    But he's given a brush and not a gun
    He spills paint and not blood
    Painting defeated Russians is his mission
    Suffusing their sorrows on death-white canvas

    He then sees a maiden clinging desperately
    She dances with death draped in sorrow
    One last desperate dance before the inevitable
    It's as if love itself is dying

    But the art is more alive than ever
    He's now the toast of a dying Vienna
    An empire on its knees facing the abyss
    An Austria emaciated like his maiden

    Finally the Spanish lady knocks on his door
    Taking away Edith and the life inside her
    Three days and a few sketches later
    She whisks away Egon as well
    ©israelmgonzalez

  • prabhsingh 3d

    Last Times...

    Rough and smooth was the feel
    When I touched the edge of table
    Which was there for years now
    No one noticed it before
    But he was only one left,
    who saw and went through everything?
    Achieved a lot, lost a lot
    never ending struggle, it saw.
    Suddenly it was my history!
    Certain bond with that table was made...
    When love with this table came into my life,
    it was certainly changed.
    ©prabhsingh

  • upsilon400 1w

    #Medieval #fight #warrior #history #duel
    Fun fact: Most professional soldiers and mercenaries were also farmers.

    How I see this fight:
    A knight or mercenary with a longsword fights a soldier or another mercenary with a halberd.
    They stand in the middle of a battlefield after the main battle is over (looting corpses).
    The fight lasts for a few minutes (most likely 2-3 including the brief staredown)
    The halberdier has the better chance of winning since he has the range advantage and can easily pull in the sword and disrupt attacks with his halberd which could also pierce plate armor.
    Note: I imagine that both combatants are competent and fully or mostly covered in plate armor of decent quality with at least enough experience in battle. Kicking and punching was allowed in duels which usually ended as first blood. But this isn't an honorable fight since it's war, which means killing off or capturing an enemy for their ransom was allowed.

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    Champions but not Heroes

    The swordsman points tempered steel,
    eye and eye fixated front
    while eye and eye strikes him real
    beneath that helm a foe grunt
    in the midst of no-man's-land
    where many felled men lie far
    from their country's homely sand
    seen by the voyager's star.
    Here a man against a man,
    longsword against the halberd
    not like their brothers who ran
    out of ranks marching forward.

    Neither one steps defiant
    nor movement as if stone touched.
    Stand resolute, the errant
    at the ready, handles clutched.
    In grime and filth stained armor
    punctured and beaten like glass,
    one a lord, one a farmer,
    both along a stretch of grass.
    Midday when the sun is hot
    on a conflict's aftermath
    when corpses begin to rot,
    but blazed unwavering wrath

    when blood had not yet turned black
    and robbers still in the hills
    while footsteps still marked the track
    that goes by ushering rills.
    Like a bedsheet flung at ghosts,
    double edged swings 'gainst spear thrusts
    both through many clashes boast
    before they splinter and rust.
    And lost souls within death's grasp,
    whoever will fall at last
    to show the hare and starved asp
    in a fight that shall end fast.

    Honorless fought feral might
    unleashed for self-serving oaths,
    drawing devils in the light.
    Mano-a-mano, each loathes
    the other who bars his way,
    to contend for glory's sake
    and turn sanguine the noonday.
    But the hitching horns could rake
    and in moments the blade slowed
    as the footman kicked the side,
    piercing after a feint's goad
    before the noble lord died.
    ©upsilon400

  • thebhavnasaxena 1w

    Coin

    Sleepy old town, its
    Wounds dripping history,
    And a faint tune in
    The air that reminds
    Me of tales I had heard
    When I was still a child;
    Stones older than me that
    Still stand, capturing me
    In their magic, I remember,
    A foggy December morning,
    My father told me, once upon a
    Time there was a little girl,
    Standing in this very spot
    Where I stand today and
    She said why not, why don't
    Queens get their names on
    Coins, why should kings stretch
    All the way on the pages in the
    Books of history that children
    After me and their children will
    Read from, power is an eager lover,
    She doesn't discriminate, doesn't
    Draw lines, I asked what happened
    To that little girl and he told me to
    Look her up in my history book;
    They call it the city of love, maybe
    There's some truth there, I couldn't
    Help but fall in love, the way that
    Little girl with big dreams became
    A strong woman with lofty ambitions,
    An immigrant's daughter turned
    Empress, and yes, she got her coin!
    ©thebhavnasaxena

  • ankitpriyadarshi 1w

    आजानुबाहु - one with long arms
    हियराज - ruler of hearts
    भवानी - name of Shivaji's sword
    शिवा जयंती के उपलक्ष्य पर.... उस महान योद्धा को समर्पित.
    On the occasion of Shiva Jayanti.... dedicated to one of the greatest warrior....
    #शिवाजी #shivaji #shivajayanti #hindi #hindipoetry #history @mirakee @singh_piyu @monikakapur @silentwhisperer @writersnetwork #inspiration #poetry #thoughts

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    गौर वर्ण, मस्तक प्रशस्त था जिनका,
    आजानुबाहु, तेजोमय मुख था उनका.
    चतुरों में चतुर, शौर्य गुण था जिनका
    वीर हियराज, शिवाजी नाम था उनका.

    हाथ में भवानी और हृदय में थी स्वतंत्रता,
    राजनीति में चाणक्य और युद्ध में अजेयता,
    ध्रुव रहा विश्वास, कठिनाइयों में भी जिनका,
    जीजाबाई के तारे, शिवाजी नाम था उनका.

    ©ankitpriyadarshi

  • extraneousthoughts 1w

    People say "past is past!".
    Past is never simply 'the past'! It is the wormhole to future. The possible mistakes mankind could commit; the concise form of what the life offers one and of what each of us learn from those, could be put on the 'beware of...' notice! Well, only if you care for the past! As each one warns themselves from the experiences in the past, the group of inhumane humans could 'learn' from the common past we shared, our ancestors lived along!

  • _kuchshabd_ 1w

    History bhi kya subject hain...
    Raat ko Ratta..
    Aur subhe sab saffa
    ©_kuchshabd114_

  • bisonbison420 2w

    Dark history of the Democratic party

    If you have a open mind then read this and learn that it was 100+ African Americans that founded the Republican party and only 10+ white people. Learn that the reason that there are African American Democrats is because they literally had a gun to there head. Learn the secret of the so called party of the people the secret they tried hard to bury.

    https://www.americanthinker.com/articles/2016/05/the_secret_racist_history_of_the_democratic_party.html

  • someone58 2w

    Your Knight

    Ladybird
    Let's go for a walk, as we interlock
    You can talk and I can chalk
    You can squawk, but I can't mock
    You can moonwalk, I can only jaywalk
    You're like a gamecock, and I try to be a Sherlock


    You can sing in the spring
    I can sting like a king
    You've a thing like a wing
    I can fling and swing
    You always move in a sling
    And you, I try to put on a string

    You try to pick a fight
    I act like it's alright
    You can bite and ignite
    I feel a little fright and excite
    You're the light to my nights
    I'll be your knight, when you feel uptight.

  • pranavdagwar 3w

    BECAUSE

    Tend to be an example,
    There are lot of opinions already given, and no one cares about it....
    Because - History remembers only winners...
    ©pranavdagwar

  • in_fragments 3w

    "Last night, in my dreams, I
    designed a time machine.
    History uncaged,
    a nomad flying free;
    I stumbled into ancient Greece,
    watched the tragedies of Sophocles,
    his advancements of fantasy
    playing out for me.

    I laid my hand on the
    Gutenberg Bible,
    and as the vowels shifted
    under my tongue, I witnessed
    languages slide
    before my very eyes.
    Words tumbled like water,
    slipping seamlessly
    into one another
    forever,
    a system that society guides
    but never looks behind.
    Humans unwittingly decide
    which letters live or die.

    A portrait of me
    by Michaealangelo, then we
    set it ablaze, let the ash
    ride the breeze,
    because everything beautiful
    we ever make
    will be destroyed with flippant
    and ruthless ease.

    I met my oldest ancestor
    on the coast of Maine,
    for his final winter
    on this ancient plane.
    We talked and traded
    centuries of pain,
    generational memories
    from brain to brain.
    I tried to show him
    the future,
    but he would not come and see.
    "'Tis not for me to tamper with
    the abyssal tomorrows of
    humanity.
    I've paid my debts to life,
    I need not borrow
    any more time.
    I will rest with Him now,
    and in due time, with thee;
    All past and future souls
    merge together in
    a heavenly hue,
    so I never worry
    about what I did not see,
    for when the Reaper shuts our eyes,
    He shows us everything."

    I thought about his words
    back in my
    meaningless machine,
    and the future became
    nothing special to me;
    a figment of some expansive,
    all-embracing
    imagination,
    on which the truth
    has no fixation;
    which, like each former century,
    doesn't exist
    but in vibrations.
    They all flood together
    to fashion the pattern of
    the present.
    Time begins and ends
    in one single moment.
    I take the moment
    by storm
    and lurch myself once more
    through the portal of time and space
    to find the finish line.

    I find the earth in rubble-
    humans long purged,
    the death of all things
    measurable.
    The sky's a deep blue, but
    in the atmosphere,
    the sun's opening wide
    to swallow it.
    One moment
    until all moments end.
    I breathed in
    the final pockets of oxygen,
    basked in the silence
    before the final throes,
    then up above,
    in my aimless cocoon,
    I watched it all explode...
    Then I woke up in bed,
    and this reality reset.

    The sun's morning colors flourished
    in rolling silhouettes.
    I rubbed my eyes,
    stretched my limbs,
    and exercised my mind,
    once again threw myself to
    the mercy
    of modern mankind.
    When this life overwhelms,
    when it gets too absurd,
    I retreat into my head, return
    to my scorched earth
    and measure the seconds
    with sand, sifting it
    through my hands,
    like a makeshift hourglass.
    The rubble reminds me
    to be here now,
    to witness the beauty
    before everything
    ends.
    I try to worry less
    about what what happened
    in the past,
    and keep future fear
    from bringing present stress,
    because all life
    is just a dream
    that we wake up from
    in death.

    So embrace the magic
    in every single breath."
    ©in_fragments

    ~~~~
    You are a living time machine.
    #history #time #travel #life #death #family #pod #poem #narrative #story #writerstolli #readwriteunite #writersworld @writersnetwork

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    Dreamed a Time Machine (Abyssal Tomorrows)

    I find the earth in rubble-
    humans long purged,
    the death of all things
    measurable.
    The sky's a deep blue, but
    in the atmosphere,
    the sun's opening wide
    to swallow it.
    ©in_fragments

  • faiza_wani 3w

    Shall I not tell you of Eldorado?
    It is here.
    In the ruins of old houses.
    Where the jewels of history glitter.
    Along the banks of Zainakadal
    Where the sapphires of peace flow,
    Adorned with the diamonds scattered,
    On the far standing Shankarachariya Hills.
    And as the moon sleeps and the sun breathes,
    The silver turns to gold
    On the turret of khankah.
    And its rarest gems,
    Have the hearts within.
    And Bud Shah rests with a proud smile
    As he looks at his Eldorado
    Standing tall through ages,
    Never conquered.

    Eldorado. It is here.
    In the heart of kashmir.
    - The Downtown
    ©faiza_wani

  • halfpint 3w

    HIS*TORY

    Fulfilling destiny
    Laying your years into legacy
    Your zenith awaits your Majesty
    Your words left behind, in a descriptive symphony
    Eloquence in all your proficiency
    Walking into your future, content in the making of your history
    Transcendence has commenced, say goodbye to cette vie
    BUT WAIT YOU FORGOT ONE THING!

    © Half Pint
    what did I forget?

  • black_0_pearl 3w

    Dear Library,
    Aren't you the place which witnessed most silent love stories, a second home for bibliophiles and a much of sneaked food while completing assignments and I, dating myself by reading a novel and sipping hot coffee!
    I remember those days of 4th grade when ma'am made us visit you every Saturday. I didn't know I was going to spend the rest of my time here after school till my papa comes to pick up me from the office. I slowly started exploring your book by book, magazine by the magazine. From reading kids storybooks to novel I involved myself in reading and writing. Every day, month, year you were expanding by adding daily newspapers, journals, new novels, bibliographies. You taught me how things are very important to be in an organized way. I was definitely not a silent person but more of a chatty person but with you, I learned to maintain silence. When I entered the college, first thought I had about how will be the new library! And when I saw you in the college I realized this 5 years will be amazing with a new but similar place.

    Talking about most love stories that I saw in movies, how the letters were exchanged and the confessions were made, how hands were brushed to each other I saw that love here, exchanging glances at each other. You have your own fragrance of books that is a weed to any book lover. The noise of flipping pages never disturbs anyone. And even the sound of ticking clock never made me look at, how much time has passed.

    A book is a friend to one who reads it and you are a shelter where the book brings readers. You have also given a safe place to spend time alone who are unable to concentrate due to their own issues. A reading book changes a person completely in a new person and yes that has changed me a lot and hopefully many people. I am thankful to you for amusing me with a lot of stories and knowledge and keeping me at the place where I am.

    Yours,
    Novel Wanderer.



    #booksofinstagram #bookstagrammer #instabooks #love #instagood #libri #readersofinstagram #bookaholic #history #bhfyp #bookclub #photography #librarians #christmas #photooftheday #librarybooks #education #author #bookstore

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    Dear Library

    Aren't you the place which witnessed most silent love stories, a second home for bibliophiles and a much of sneaked food while completing assignments and I, dating myself by reading a novel and sipping hot coffee!


    ©black_0_pearl

  • loftydreams101 3w

    Miles Under the Surface

    Under broad and Prussian blue skies
    There were cattle cars rumbling
    Eastern-bound,
    Full of man-made screams

    In the Antebellum dust,
    There were chain-linked kin
    Full of home-grown songs
    Rushing into the present

    Twisted roots of old
    Claim the soil as theirs,
    Where bloodlines interlock
    Under land and sea

    © William Wright, Jr. 2020

  • canadian_cowboy 4w

    She looked up at the stars and wondered how many other people throughout history had also been disappointed with their lives.

    ©canadian_cowboy

  • pranavdagwar 4w

    History

    History remembers those who triumph to achieve it. Countless efforts were made and are being made but only few who didn't get stuck in illusions of life, achieved it.
    History remembers only the winners.
    ©pranavdagwar

  • apurva_j 4w

    Salam Karte Hai...

    Yeh desh chain ki nind tab sota hai,
    Jab ek sainik, saar par kafan
    band sarhad par khada hota hai...

    Salam karte hai aaj
    uss SAINIK ko jo desh ke liye jeeta hai...


    Vo saal bhar din raat mehnat kar,
    fasal ugata hai,
    Vo ek kisan hi hai, jo lakho ke liye
    annapurna khelata hai...

    Salam karte hai aaj,
    uss KISAN ko jo iss desh ki bhook
    mitata hai...


    Badti hai vo, sikhti hai vo
    khudke liye ladti hai vo...
    Vo ek AURAT hai,
    jo sirf peedhi hi nahi desh ko aage badati hai...

    Salam karte hai aaj,
    uss AURAT ko jo desh ko chalati hai...


    Desh ki aaj ki mehnat aane wale kal ki
    kamayabi batati hai,
    Yeh vo kahani hai, jo itihaas ban jati hai...

    Salam karte hai aaj,
    uss ITIHAAS ko jo iss desh ki nishani hai...


    Rang-roop, bhed-bhaav ki diwar toot jaati hai,
    Jab ek saath yeh desh
    'Vande Mataram' gaata hai...

    Salam karte hai aaj,
    uss EKTA ko jo iss desh ko ek karti hai...


    Mana ki aaj desh mein kayi uthal-puthal hai,
    par AAJ ka desh ateet se behtar hai...

    Salam karte hai aaj,
    uss TIRANGE ko jo Aane wale Kal ki umeed hai...

    ©Apurva J