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_बेखबर

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White दिन रात राहों पर  चलना पड़ता है  मेहनत की आग में  जलना पड़ता है  इतने पर भी  मंजिल नहीं मयस्सर  भाग्य से भी लड़ना पड़ता है  है मेहनत भी भाग्य भी फिर भी इंतजार  कई बार करना पड़ता है  अचानक से नहीं मिलती मौत भी हर रोज़ थोड़ा-थोड़ा  मरना पड़ता है ©_बेखबर #poems #Poetry

White दिन रात राहों पर  चलना पड़ता है  मेहनत की आग में  जलना पड़ता है  इतने पर भी  मंजिल नहीं मयस्सर  भाग्य से भी लड़ना पड़ता है  है मेहनत भी भाग्य भी फिर भी इंतजार  कई बार करना पड़ता है  अचानक से नहीं मिलती मौत भी हर रोज़ थोड़ा-थोड़ा  मरना पड़ता है ©_बेखबर #poems #Poetry

aswathy sudheesh

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White These are your own words your way of noticing and saying plainly of not turning away from hurt you have offered them to me I am only giving them back if only I could show you how very useless they are not ©aswathy sudheesh #good_night #poems #Poetry

White These are your own words your way of noticing and saying plainly of not turning away from hurt you have offered them to me I am only giving them back if only I could show you how very useless they are not ©aswathy sudheesh #good_night #poems #Poetry

kavi Abhishek Pathak

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फूल मुरझा जाएंगे, यादें रह जाएंगी, खुशबू बिखर जाएगी, पर निशानी रह जाएगी। पंखुड़ियों में जो रंग बसा है, वो धीरे-धीरे फीका पड़ जाएगा। वक़्त की आंधी में, ये गुलशन सूनापन हर ओर भर जाएगा। पर जो खुशबू है, दिल में बसी, वो कैसे मिट पाएगी? फूल मुरझा जाएंगे, पर उनकी यादें दिल में हमेशा मुस्कुराएंगी। खुदा से ये दुआ है हमारी, तुम्हारे दिलों का गुलशन सदा खिला रहे। फूल चाहे मुरझा जाएं, पर रिश्तों की महक बनी रहे। ©kavi Abhishek Pathak #phoolmurjhajayenge #poems #Poetry #kavishala

फूल मुरझा जाएंगे, यादें रह जाएंगी, खुशबू बिखर जाएगी, पर निशानी रह जाएगी। पंखुड़ियों में जो रंग बसा है, वो धीरे-धीरे फीका पड़ जाएगा। वक़्त की आंधी में, ये गुलशन सूनापन हर ओर भर जाएगा। पर जो खुशबू है, दिल में बसी, वो कैसे मिट पाएगी? फूल मुरझा जाएंगे, पर उनकी यादें दिल में हमेशा मुस्कुराएंगी। खुदा से ये दुआ है हमारी, तुम्हारे दिलों का गुलशन सदा खिला रहे। फूल चाहे मुरझा जाएं, पर रिश्तों की महक बनी रहे। ©kavi Abhishek Pathak #phoolmurjhajayenge #poems #Poetry #kavishala

साहित्य संजीवनी

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White उसके घर में सजे हुए हैं कई कई ईनाम लेकिन उसकी जीभ पर हैं तलवों के निशान। -अशोक जमनानी ©साहित्य संजीवनी #good_night #Poetry #poems

White उसके घर में सजे हुए हैं कई कई ईनाम लेकिन उसकी जीभ पर हैं तलवों के निशान। -अशोक जमनानी ©साहित्य संजीवनी #good_night #Poetry #poems

Krishnan

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White Grandma Stories I still love to hear those stories narrated by my grandmother. From the starting punch line of "Once upon a time...." to the exciting finishing statement, and finally, after that, they lived happily." I used to get engrossed in every nuance of her narration. I used to persuade her to narrate the Cinderella-type story many times. The way she used to begin was perfect, drawing me into her story. "Once upon a time, there used to be a pretty girl who often rested her heart, mind, and soul every evening on the steps of the porch of her house after doing all household chores dumped on her by her arrogant stepmother and sisters. She knew no prince would come out of nowhere and hold her hand before taking her away. It happens only in dreams. Still, she waits for someone who wouldn't come. She knows that she is bound to continue as a puppet here. But what if, one day, her waiting pays off?" Then my grandmother sighed deeply and expressed her wish as she looked at me: "You know, Krishna, I hope that, one day, the prince from her dream will arrive and rescue her from this hell. But none of us can predict the future." I then raised my head from her lap and looking at her eyes, I put forward my curiosity, "Will the prince arrive, Grandma?" "Even the gods cannot resist the glowing beauty that radiates from her, along with her pure heart—let alone a prince! Let's see." She remarked before continuing with her story! ©Krishnan #Grandma #grandmother #storytelling #Childhood #childhood_memories

White Grandma Stories I still love to hear those stories narrated by my grandmother. From the starting punch line of "Once upon a time...." to the exciting finishing statement, and finally, after that, they lived happily." I used to get engrossed in every nuance of her narration. I used to persuade her to narrate the Cinderella-type story many times. The way she used to begin was perfect, drawing me into her story. "Once upon a time, there used to be a pretty girl who often rested her heart, mind, and soul every evening on the steps of the porch of her house after doing all household chores dumped on her by her arrogant stepmother and sisters. She knew no prince would come out of nowhere and hold her hand before taking her away. It happens only in dreams. Still, she waits for someone who wouldn't come. She knows that she is bound to continue as a puppet here. But what if, one day, her waiting pays off?" Then my grandmother sighed deeply and expressed her wish as she looked at me: "You know, Krishna, I hope that, one day, the prince from her dream will arrive and rescue her from this hell. But none of us can predict the future." I then raised my head from her lap and looking at her eyes, I put forward my curiosity, "Will the prince arrive, Grandma?" "Even the gods cannot resist the glowing beauty that radiates from her, along with her pure heart—let alone a prince! Let's see." She remarked before continuing with her story! ©Krishnan #Grandma #grandmother #storytelling #Childhood #childhood_memories