Después de años regreso, regreso a dejar lo que mi mente piensa, lo que mi alma grita, lo que mi corazón no supera...
........... AAKHIR KYUN............
Kyun aaj bhi tujhe dekh kar
Phir se unhi lamho ko jeene ka man karta hai.....
Aakhir kyun aaj bhi teri muskurahat
Mujme phir se ek nayi ummid paida karti hai..
Kyun aaj bhi tera ek bar palat ke mujhe dekhna,mujhe raahat deta hai...
Aakhir kyun aaj bhi tere aanshuo ko dekh kar phir se pighal jane ko jee karta
Kyun esa lagta hai ki jee to mai rahi hoon par jindgi aaj bhi tujse judi hai..
Tu laut kar aae na aae, aakhir kyun ye yaadein laut kar har bar aa jati hai
,......... JOURNEY OF LIFE LIVING.....
When some of our journies ended with some beautiful momeries than its enough for lifetime...but when it not its became the worst nightmare..
Words often appear to have vanished from someone who used to write. Probable causes sanctimoniously gather in abundance to those who have forgotten that words pour out only when there is truly something worth writing.
I was reading everything I ever wrote . It made me re visit these mind places . The exact mix of emotions i once felt. This is one of the main reasons why I stopped documents my bad days and instead write more about my good ones . Do you feel the same when you read your own work ?
If I thought lettrs would not have an impact in the world, I would not have kept this grand experiment going.
It is the most emotionally intelligent network I know, thanks to all of you and in 80 languages.
Make your mark!
Why I write...
I remember being eight years old an the only thing I wanted was a diary. But not just any diary! I wanted one with the lock and key. I was always embarrassed like I would have been made fun of for keeping a diary! But most of all I was scared!!! Scared of what people would think if they were to read some of the things I'd write. We moved so much it got to the point I wouldn't unpack the few trash bags I had of clothes because I knew once I got comfortable it'd be time to go again. I have always had anxiety so making friends was something I wasn't really interested in doing. For years a pen an paper was my only fr...
Ever seen chances slimmer,
Than oxymorons? Than breaths
In the slits of turmoils of death
Than serendipity walking bold
With a thunderous sky
Than the fine line of white
That turns the strongest dark
Into a grey of hope,
There, then, maybe
Lays a soul, praying to fall
With trust, on the wiser side.
All that I ever learn from love was how to be continuously naive. A spin that never stops.
I think using letters makes you express yourself more than you would have in person talks due to lack of confidence. That's my opinion on why letter.
I wish I could carry your heart
In my hand
Or the pocket
Of my shirt
Where it embraces
Through a curtain
Of translucent skin.
I wish I could keep your heart
In the drawer
Of my study table
Or between the pages
Of my favorite
I wish I could place your heart
Under the pillow
While I went to sleep
Or just thought about
Sometimes during day,
Or if I could just
On the desk
In my classroom
On the notebook
And pen down stories
About how it breaks
And how it bleeds.
I wish I could have your heart
If not your soul
I wish I could have your heart
If not you.
From that first meeting in 8th standard to today when I again saw you and recalled everything in a second.
I still remember when you first entered our class with an naughty smile, intoxicating scent,and those deep splendid eyes. In a minute I felt you completely. We barely talked but then to in a couple of months I was the one who was knowing everything about you. You were the one lost in the books, trying to paint own world and always wore that silver bracelet with hanging flowers and elephants on it in your left hand.
And then time passed,and from 8th we slided over to 12th, time changed but that sweet sophistication between us still stayed the same. The last day of the school, we were all ...
I must admit, the new paper in the “faces” collection of lettrs stationery has me thinking deeper than ever.
Thanks to Martha for creating an inspired collection. We will tag the stationery as “Mindful” for a brave new tapestry of your letters from across the globe. Go deep...
Think, write, live,
On the nib of
For you have
The power to
Hurt or Heal
- Shefali Dang
Some people don't write anymore. They improved and evolved. And also became emotionless. Creativity has bid them goodbye in smoke and compressed into stars, constellations. They just play with words. They weave them into magic.
She was one of them.
I was a writer though,
But she, she was a magician. She still is. She always has been. She always will be.
She was one of those with hazel eyes with the sun reflecting on her pupils in the corner like that bright star that glows from far in the galaxy, the brightest, a little curved as if viewed from a telescope.
She had something about herself. Something that just doesn't let her get off my mind. Something about the fragrance that followed h...
What I find here in lettrs I don’t find anywhere else in the world.
I find sanity and substance, nourishment and nuance, a quiet place that invites me to understand, more than to be understood. lettrs is the old friend who always sees the best in us.
Well, all those who write are divided into two different frame of minds
a) Some days we write to express... joy, sadness, enthusiasm, depression, spirituality, religion..etc etc - different mood swings turned into thoughts are right here in front of our eyes.
b) Other days we just like to vomit it all out
People dance when the music comes in,
And they cry when the words hit them.
Just a little tale of melody. Of words making love to music.
Amidst friendships and euphoria,
And love beside them with a cigarette dangling.
Between those stages
Of subconscious and consciousness
A safe haven.
But somewhere between the search
Of reality and truth
I looked around
That would heal.
The one that would leave scars
To bring back
And the euphoria
The back and forth
Back and forth
Time and Time again.
Never had I known
You're not of me
But I am
Of you, yours