Life & Naansense
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“Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.”— Stephen R. Covey (via gothical)
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I think the world would be a better place if boys were socialized/taught from a young age that it’s okay to cry.
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(by Wolfgang Staudt)
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Anonymous asked: Is there any criteria you use to decide which u submission you post under the Poetic People Project?
No, this is personal opinion and when it comes to that there is no criteria. Everyone who submitted will be released, it just takes time, I don’t...
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Rides on old trains are the best
Old Delhi - where even the air you breathe feels like from another time in this city.
Taken in Kinari Bazaar, Delhi, India
We are
Born like this
Into this
Into these carefully mad wars
Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness
Into bars where people no longer speak to each other
Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings
Born into this
Into hospitals which are so expensive that it’s cheaper to die
Into lawyers who charge so much it’s cheaper to plead guilty
Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes-Bukowski
Expose yourself to your deepest fears.
Meet them naked, dig in your heels. This is the worst that is.
Now the fear has lost its power over you. Your soul has learnt and overcome it.
You are ready.
You are free.
And this, is what has made my day. Just LISTEN.
Perdonare.
It means Forgiveness. It’s the biggest thing we can do; not for others, but for ourselves.
(via laviederiley)
A frame stiffened
with thoughts unchanged
a heart feebled
with emotions unarranged.
Trying to protect
under blankets of vows
It’s his longest winter
mistakes thawed in snow.
Knock after knock
gone unanswered
The floor hardly creeks
just, a window, a bird.
Those who tried to enter
He only saw their backs
Spring whispered, rain thumped
only melted was the candle’s wax.
His name lost in the mists
its stray echoes somewhere
The memories under green tenderness
clock doesn’t move dare.
He loves. Forty years deep.
the fragrance, the voice of her
folded within his wrinkles
as if time not were.
Give him all the sunshine
Give him all the glow
Give him all the moondrops
And maybe, some day he’ll bow.
It’s his longest winter
he bid it without knowing
but, do we know less
and he’s always been a wynter?
The silence deafens the mind
and the darkness lights up the within.
It is when the tables turn
and suddenly,
the world is awake
the world calls out your name
the world draws to you
the world becomes you and you become it.
The snooty neighbour
Taken from a boat in the backwaters of Allepy, Kerala, India.
Gliding down moonbeams
diving into the sunshine;
We paint ourselves with Life.
Singing the names of the forgotten
the bonfire crackles with laughter;
We snuggle ourselves with Life.
Trailing the fireballs
sprinkling the starlight;
We dust ourselves with Life.
Looking for the next jump
the fears submitted beneath a tree;
And oh,
we were always being carried in the palm of Life.
This reminds me of folk tales and how whole of mankind is connected with some rivers running throughout with us in time.
What does it remind you of?
ps. Pardon the picture quality. Taken from my 2mpxl camera.
“Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race.”
― H.G. WellsPhoto Courtesy:weheartit
