harshraj5Aapki yeh kavita behadh khoobsurat hai. Agar aap apni kavitaon ko aur logo tak pahuchana chahte hain toh Goonj ke event Bolo Azaadi mai bhaag lijiye. Hum 12 August tak entries le rahe hain.Aur jyad jaankari ke liye click karein:https://www.instagram.com/p/CSV8ctQqzdE/?utm_medium=copy_link
We are glad to see your posts, that's very unique and creative, would you like to work with us in our next anthology? The book will be published internationally with your name on the front cover and copies of it will be give to you.
Contact us for more details. Thank you If you are intrested kindly contact with us Charchit khandelwal Instagram- k_charchit Mail id - firstname.lastname@example.org
You're not a puppet to entertain every person you have in you’re life incase you do you will have nothing left for yourself. Live for yourself some people will often try to manipulate you to listen or agree to their opinions or just want you to live in a certain way it may be anyone family,friends,etc. You only have one life. #scribble,#society,#idea,#livelihood,#people,#mesage,#pleasing,#fake,#real,#scribblerdiaries.
Symphony of fortune, knit a suffocating nest. Debris from relic imagination, serves as a dessert to be gulp by sanity. Crumbs of paper cut, soak up the mushy water of resistance. Burns of graded sheets, babble the rhymes of responsibility. Pieces of ripped journal, cast a sharp showpiece of rigidity. Skin of binned books, secure protection of filed disappointments. Casette of futile lullaby, sink in a pool of ghosted delicacy. Ink of barren pen, rest on the long plank of restrictions. Holes in repressed drafts, peak a view at the uptight hospitality. Leftovers from lucid discomfort, vaccum the thick smell of guilt. Entrance towards hollow eternity, create spacious exit for the hostile environment. Wisps of loosened fatigue, dance by the blues on the merciful floor. Hums of resurrection time, buzz about the endless havoc of the same time. Scent of inked pages, write a new tale for the same rebellious dinner.
The rigidity of ethics lies in the hands of fortune. My deeds decipher the uncanny meaning of freedom. Wallowing blood flow recklessly through my veins. My mind fail to reciprocate the truth and lies. Tragedy of becoming forces me to cast a spell of ethnicity. My hands deprives the touch of crumbled paper. Pounding heart full of grudge fail to recognize the voice of freedom. My ears plead to hear an echo of satisfaction. Trembling fingertips confine remedy for livelihood. My soul aches for sincerity found in arms of creativity. The rigidity of ethics lies in the hands of fortune. I montage a world full of poetry. They rejoice on the name of my livelihood. While l fill my journal page with debris from the crumbs of my livelihood.
the_diarylifeeeeWe are liking your way of writing✒. Why don't you try to participate in the poetry contest? Previously, we held many contests like this where winners got some cash prizes and e-certificates signed by an author and much more! To know more, the Instagram handle is in the bio. Check immediately!⤴️