Baskadia

PLANTATION

We all want to bloom and bear fruits, but we originate from different seeds and the conditions of our plantation differ. Some were planted for commercial purposes where their success is guarantee because they are being planted on optimal condition. Some were planted by mistake but they will survive because they are at right conditions. They enjoy the privilege of the soil they have fall on. Some were planted at wrong conditions by mistake but their farmers are doing the lot for them to survive g

No Goodbye

My head became buried deep in her neck, The odor of her hair delivered consolation To my as soon as-lonely heart...

Poetry: Madness

This poetry is a satire on Shakespearean plays and also an urge for writing like him.

What if

What if we'll be apart???? I'll talk to stars about you I'll ask the moon if you're doing well or not I'll go to library and read the books that I thought I would read with you I'll watch the series Thinking you could be watching it too I'll make your favourite dishes Pretending that you'll be home soon I'll make canvas of me sitting beside you I'll sing the songs that reminds my heart how much i love you I'll write poetries about how many ways i fell for you I'll learn to play guitar Hoping one

Serene Calmness

Amidst the chaos of life's demands, A quiet calmness gently lands, A soothing balm to ease the mind, And leave the clutter far behind. The stillness of a tranquil lake, The rustling of leaves in a gentle shake, The hush of morning's early light, All bring a sense of peace so right. In moments of stress and strife, The gift of calm can save a life, A steady hand to guide the way, And lead to brighter, peaceful days. So let us cherish this serene calmness, And revel in its pure, sweet essence, For

Poetry of Life

In the shadows, my heart cries, A melody of sadness, a silent river. Memories dance, in the seeping darkness, A symphony of longing, searching love. In the stillness of the night, Where the shadows creep softly, The echo of lost love, Haunts me as I cry. Memories are like thorns, Penetrating the soft skin, The heart that was once whole, Now broken inside. But in the midst of this pain, a glimmer of hope still shines, Because from the depths of the heart, Strength emerges in a silent scream.

"Beloved Mother: The Eternal Flame of Love"

In the realm of love, a celestial presence, A beacon of warmth and unwavering essence. She is a mother, beyond mere mortal ties, A symphony of grace that never dies. Her gentle touch, a soothing balm, Calming storms, bringing tranquil calm. With eyes that hold a universe of care, She embraces all burdens, willing to bear. Her voice, a melody, soft and serene, Whispering wisdom, a lullaby unseen. In her embrace, fears find their release, A sanctuary of love, a shelter of peace. She nurtures dream

Poetry

About love

Title: Embracing My Passions Poetry, Badminton, Books, Movies, and Music

the explore of passions that light up my life and inspiration.I have discovered a world of self-expression and comforts. poetry is to express depths of my emotions, thought. And I Enjoy of playing badminton. Books enhance my vocabulary, imagination and inspiration, learning and Movies are my comforters, providing solace teach me about life, I find solace in the embrace of music.transport me to a serene sea, where I can sit on the sand and let my imagination free, comforting me.

شام جو هي پهر

شام جو هي پهر Evening poetry in sindhi #sindhipoetry555

I'm just one (poetry)

They say I'm two, but I'm just one, A mystery to unravel, yet to be undone. I stand before them, flesh and bone, But they see two, a duality unknown. They question my existence, my very being, As if two souls within me are disagreeing. But I assure them, with every breath I take, That I am one, my heart and soul at stake. They point to my contradictions, my every flaw, As if two personas within me are at war. But I tell them, with every word I speak, That I am one, my identity not weak. For I am

Islamic

Achi batye sab tak pohnchye plz thanku

Tere bin season 2 Trending Pakistani drama

The Isolated Porcupine

A poem about little porcupine

By the river side.

By the river side, A peaceful retreat Where a gentle breeze blows And the sun's heat The birds chirping and singing, The trees blowing in the wind, The grass swayed in harmony, The water trickled in a gentle din. The sound of the river soothes my soul, The scent of the grass sweet and bold The sight of the river, so clear and blue, It's beauty like nothing I ever knew. The river side, A place of solace and peace, Where I can go to find A calming release

Poetry

Hard shell, thick skin Slow pace, leave a trail Thick trail, beautiful scenery Companionship of like mind Like wise carry each other through the thick bush Of unchattered, scary, dangerous, beautiful scenery Grow skin and hard shell on the road untraveled, slow leave a trail!

JOURNAL OF A WHORE

It was on a bright weekend early afternoon. As I remained there ringing the doorbell tenderly, somebody pulled my pants. "Mom, mom, convey me." Cried a minuscule sharp voice. I really wanted no heavenly messenger to let me know what its identity was. Obviously, it was the voice of my three years of age little girl. If by some stroke of good luck she knew how chaotic it was lifting her up as she had put on a ton of weight as of late. Perhaps more than her age mates however at that point, a mother's affection wouldn't allow me to overlook the little one, regardless of whether I needed to. "Great sky," I murmured, feigned exacerbation, and scooped her up in my arms.

LOVE IN RELATIONSHIP

it more of spoken words

THE THIRD WORLD POLITICIAN

Here he is, The big man. He flaunts his money, To show the masses His affluent and wealth. And the rumours spread, That the big man, Was not a businessman. "But what could he be". They wondered. Which occupation, Made you as rich as a businessman? It was not carpentry, Nor was it bricklaying, Or blacksmithing, Then suddenly we knew! The big man, Was nothing but a politician. An occupation of the privileged Who never got tired of their occupation, Who did more bad than good, Whose personal intere

OH MORNING!!!

Morning, a kind of fresh start reforming what seized to exist, peace. As for me I'll say my morning my peace.