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अल्ताफ़ कलंदर

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उभरे हैं हम कहते नहीं ग़मगीं मगर रहते नहीं हस्ती हुई घर से मकाँ अब वो यहाँ रहते नहीं #life feels like an #abandoned #house

उभरे हैं हम कहते नहीं ग़मगीं मगर रहते नहीं हस्ती हुई घर से मकाँ अब वो यहाँ रहते नहीं #life feels like an #abandoned #house

Bharath Nandibhatla

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I'm a house of wax in a flare. Your raging wrath, your hugs' warmth, they melt me alike. I can't be thawed, I'm no ice. I'm not cold. I'm just wax, that melts and yet fuels the fire within you. #House House of wax

I'm a house of wax in a flare. Your raging wrath, your hugs' warmth, they melt me alike. I can't be thawed, I'm no ice. I'm not cold. I'm just wax, that melts and yet fuels the fire within you. #House House of wax

Prahelika

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Beside those premises there stalls a desolate house, I wonder how the owner would have purchased it out; The house though rest unused throughout the days, Shadowed by the thickets that have crammed its way. It features so ugly as it could be, With the branches resting blindly on it; The doors and windows that are hooked up, With no sunrays piercing to light it at first. The owner though rarely comes for a visit, I wonder what he has to detect inside it; The curious trespassers who pass along its way, Gasping and wondering how nasty it remain its place. ©Prahelika Sen The Lifeless house #House

Beside those premises there stalls a desolate house, I wonder how the owner would have purchased it out; The house though rest unused throughout the days, Shadowed by the thickets that have crammed its way. It features so ugly as it could be, With the branches resting blindly on it; The doors and windows that are hooked up, With no sunrays piercing to light it at first. The owner though rarely comes for a visit, I wonder what he has to detect inside it; The curious trespassers who pass along its way, Gasping and wondering how nasty it remain its place. ©Prahelika Sen The Lifeless house #House

Smriti Maurya

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and there is a spiral staircase, which leads to a third room. its almost empty but for a cup of tears. a blank journal. green ink. and a quill. to write the stories and write heartache. - Smriti Maurya An excerpt from "If I were a house" #Home #story #poem #Nojoto

and there is a spiral staircase, which leads to a third room. its almost empty but for a cup of tears. a blank journal. green ink. and a quill. to write the stories and write heartache. - Smriti Maurya An excerpt from "If I were a house" #Home #story #poem #Nojoto