Mirakee
❤️❤️
Ki dikhawa krna to hume nahi aata
Par kya kre ek mazburi hai..
Humne unse wada jo kiya tha
Ki
Unke jane ke bad bhi hum khush rhege
©its_me_always19
its_me_always19
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I am tired
©its_me_always19 -
Ek teri awaz sunne ke liye zinda h hum
aur tu hi khamosh ho jaaye,
Toh fir kya thik hai....
Shakh se patte gire , badal chhaye , barish ruke....
Mai hi toh sab glt karti hu ,
Accha thik h.....
©its_me_always19 -
Patthar hai tere hath me ya koi phool h
Or
Jab tu qabool h tera sb kuchh qabool h
Dil par bojhkar mulaqat ko na aaa
Is tarah milna hai to
Bichhdana qabool hai
©its_me_always19 -
Aaj kal teri meri khatm samjho,
Ghar waalo ne mera rista dhunda hai,
Aur kabhi tere souhar (husband) se milkar dekhunga,
mujhe chod kar tune konsa farista dhunda hai -
☺️☺️
Pyar krte hai log jo rula dete hai
Aankh band hote hi mitthi me sula dete hai
Or
Pyar koi krta nhi is duniya me
Har aam shakhs ko duniya me salah dete h
©its_me_always19 -
❤️❤️
Ek dam se meri aankh ka nazara badal gya
Vo thik hokar bhi dobara badal gaya☺️
Waqt badal gaya lehja badal gaya
Aahista aahista vo dobara badal gya
©its_me_always19 -
A real friend
Is one who
Walks in when
The rest of
The world
Walks out. -
Never have I ever felt
That I actually belong
Within a group of
Friends.I'm usually the
One who's" just there". -
I KNOW
I HAVE FRIENDS
BUT I FEEL LIKE
I HAVE NO ONE
TO TALK TO
ABOUT THE SHIT
THAT GOES ON
IN MY MIND
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©kevinanthony -
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©kevinanthony
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©kevinanthony -
aadi_is_urs
4h
Mat pucho wajah
Tum pasand ho bewajah
©aadi4you -
varisha_rehman
13h
Read More_FEEL THE FEAR, FEEL THE PAIN,_
_NO ONE TO CRY TO, NO ONE TO WAIL._
_THIS IS SOCIETY, MAN._
_AND HERE ARE YOUR MISTAKES._
The … the school doors are closed. Where is everyone? Why is it only me? I was running, all-around but couldn't find an escape.
It's turning dark, there are whispers behind the door, but when did I...reach this class I was in the field. “hello? Is anyone here” I don’t know who I am asking. There surely was someone but no one anymore. RUN, CALM DOWN, RUN, BREATHE, RUN, RELAX, RUN. Office, someone must be there. Yet no one. Only shadows and whispers. Church! yes! there will be someone. And... And no shadows can enter, right? there I was standing in the church, still, shadows reached me. “Leave Me! Let Me GO!” _“mistakes. mistakes. mistake_” what mistakes? what… is it? why me? Someone is there in the corner, head down, walking towards me. “Remember me? This is you of yesterday.” she raised her head. Her gaze, it was like she looked through me, “It is not your first day here, sweetheart!” she smiled and she was gone. mistakes. mistakes. mistakes. my head hurts, “stop, please. stop..” tears rolled down as I begged for everything to stop, if it was a dream. I begged myself to wake up, if it was the reality, the truth. I begged to quit such a world where I was asked about my mistakes when I don't even know them. _Hide_! I ran to one of the washrooms, closed the door, covered my mouth, squeezed myself into the corner. But I was no more in the washroom, I was in the class. There are faces all around me. MY FACES, with expressions I have learnt to make when no feeling could be felt, _smile, regret, cry, sad, cute, so many expressions_ are there. “wear me. wear me… wear me!!!” stop... My voice... Stop... I can't speak. STOP. no one then, no faces, no voices, no whispers. RUN! RUN! RUN! there is a faint light at the corner... It's an escape. hurry! footsteps whispers... everything was running after me. Just run, _how far_? still, fight, _how much_? _Till when?_
Mistakes are there even if you do your best.
Cause, Only, in this world, just doing your best isn't good enough.
even if you don't make one mistake, The Society Sees Them. They will come after you.
The path, you ask? It Will Be Through You.
_SOCIETY MAKES PUPPET,_
_BUT YOU HAVE NO STRINGS._
_YOU ONLY HAVE STRENGTH FOR THE DAY,_
_AND LIGHT FOR THE WAY._
#repost #society #strings #way #faces #light #dark #etc.Cause, Only, in this world, just doing your best isn't good enough.
©varisha_rehman -
Exegesis of an Ingredient (a fragment)
How to begin to write is a dread conquerable not by many. Fretful minds and restless hearts, buried in the sepulchre of perceptible senses, longs for a ray of light through a pinhole of expression. A priori of fettered abject emotions castrated by indigence of words is often a cornerstone of many a headstones. Only a few acquire the capacity to overcome the burden of the unanimous mud of the unsaid. Fragmented words often fails to describe the fragments of a fragmented one. No pattern suffice to communicate the incommunicable.
Poetry; read between the lines, and hence a relief to many tormented minds of all ages and degree. For what better way than to bury the anguish in fragments of some scattered words artistically placed together? The words, which were never meant to be together in your poetry to begin with. The words, which are a repetition of the ones who passed before you. Their words, which were a repetition of the ones who passed before them. Why then a failure to avow disintegration of words in your poetry? For words are meaningless unless a poet resolves to paste them on the pages of his conscience, employing his own transient substance, in the notebook of his perceptions. What a relief writing poetry brings about to the anguished!
There is a tacit virtue in adhering to the essentials of the primordial communication. Words spoken are nothing but a superficial mirage on an empty desert. Words spoken are seen flying around our daily lives without any quintessence. Words spoken are seen dying a nascent death without any subsistence. The act of writing is as sacred as the act of existing. What better way to communicate than to write with your flowing eyes and your dripping veins? What better way to mend, than to wipe the rufescent flow with the pages of your poetry? These indelible stains, the fundamental ingredient to your amaranthine poetry.
(Writings preserved through generations brought about the concepts of heaven and hell. Writings on a piece of paper wreaked havoc in forms of mad wars. Writings on a piece of paper renders a pensive poet another day to live. Writings on a piece of paper lays down standards and accords for harmony.
Perhaps writings on a piece of paper one day will bring glory to the Mankind. Perhaps writings on a piece of paper, one day will bring glory to the Allkind.
For oft peace is served up in a poet's poetry.) -
_debanjali
2d
Dad how are you ?
Suddenly I grew up.
Dad, how are you?
No more talking.
Dad, did you eat?
This question is no longer asked.
Dad, are you all right?
No more jigsaws.
I'm so busy
How much work I have in the virtual world
Status update, comment, like
How busy I am
Suddenly I grew up,
I miss that little one.
How much I used to play with my father
How much mischief I did, I used to gossip;
And today to take his news
I'm hesitant
Doesn't it hurt to understand fathers?
Yes, but it never lets us understand.
This is how many job tests I passed,
My father also dreamed with me.
Then the final selection did not happen,
Didn't my father get sad along with me?
One day I will be proud of my father,
I will keep my father's name.
Not every day of the year,
Today is Father's birthday
I bow to my father.
©_debanjali -
vichus
13h
One day there will be nothing left
but poetries i bleeded o'er thy memories.
©vichus -
writes_solemnly
1d
Read MoreAye ♥ - e - Naadaan.!!
@writersnetwork
@mirakee
#fan
#mirzaghalib
#shayari
#ghazal
#poetry
#ghalib
#Dil-e-Naadaan❤-E-Naadaan.!
dil-e-nādāñ tujhe huā kyā hai
āḳhir is dard kī davā kyā hai
ham haiñ mushtāq aur vo be-zār
yā ilāhī ye mājrā kyā hai
maiñ bhī muñh meñ zabān rakhtā huuñ
kaash pūchho ki mudda.ā kyā hai
jab ki tujh bin nahīñ koī maujūd
phir ye hañgāma ai ḳhudā kyā hai
ye parī-chehra log kaise haiñ
ġhamza o ishva o adā kyā hai
shikan-e-zulf-e-ambarīñ kyuuñ hai
nigah-e-chashm-e-surma sā kyā hai
sabza o gul kahāñ se aa.e haiñ
abr kyā chiiz hai havā kyā hai
ham ko un se vafā kī hai ummīd
jo nahīñ jānte vafā kyā hai
haañ bhalā kar tirā bhalā hogā
aur darvesh kī sadā kyā hai
jaan tum par nisār kartā huuñ
maiñ nahīñ jāntā duā kyā hai
maiñ ne maanā ki kuchh nahīñ 'ġhālib'
Muft haath aaye to burā kyā
✒ Mirza Ghalib
©writes_solemnly -
helenloizou
13h
Heal what hurt you
So you don’t push away
What loves you
©helenloizou
