Rain , is the fragments of our stories.. Washing into us ! To remind us that all is forgiven Every fleeting moment is like ; The dust that breaks off our skins ... The particles that drift from light into darkness .. Hidden from our consciousness and sight But sometimes , in the light When time is paused , you can see them float ! Like repercussions of our words ,spoken in haste ... Like breathe on our mirrors , that has just been expelled ! When it rains , you feel our stories again Between the beatings of your heart Our bits and pieces, lost fragments of the past Like wet sand caught in our fingernails The wind that blows on your sinking heart over the scaring of our souls ... Is but the forgiveness of our past! The cleansing of our slates, Our first step into our future ! Out fleeting , temporal hearts , forgiven , Wiith the lifting of our weights .. .... ~eman _______________________
Kai in barishon ne aaj dastak di Meri khirki pr , Toh beety zamano mein , kho dia khudko mai... Woh Aik bench , do mug chai liye , Teri Aik deed Kai liye beitha rha qadam jamaaye mai Suna ha , December ki pehli barish se ho Tum , Kai jiskai baad kisi ki khawish na kron Mai .... Iss qadar beqarari si rehne lgi iss Dil mein, Tmhari nazro ka jam Jo pee lia tha mai... Na taweez , na dhagho ne kch rang dikhaya Aik sajda e rab kia , tujhko pa gya tha Mai ... Awal toh meri fahrist ka hasil ho Tum , Tum na ho toh zamane me Kya kro ga mai .... ~eman
My sheet of trust Crumbled many times, Shattered many times like A piece of mirror, Those piece reflect that scene When I blindly trusted On those, people perceived as Floating bubbles,and then I was the one who trusted them first, Cracking sounds of my breaking trusts Are still echoing in my ears Saying not to trust again But my soul confronting my fickle brain Saying to give them second chance, Those creases,those wrinkles That once got occurred on paper of trust, It's time to remove them by ironing it With the iron of generosity or forgiveness- It's time to build a bridge of trust Over the ocean of people changing each hour, With the concrete of hope, Thinking if you get hurt once Never meant you get another scars.
To cook the soup of happiness You neither need of expensive ingredients Nor high quality or branded equipments, Just put an ordinary pot on hearth of satisfaction Pour some oil of self love, Believe me, it will not increase your calories, Add those days you have cherished, Those sweet memories that make you nostalgic, The smiles of those whom you love, The care you receive from your dears, Things provide you even small pleasure A pinch of salt and pepper of friskiness Give it a stir with the ladle of hope. And here your ' Soup of Happiness' is ready to gulp.
NOTE: So add a bowl of ' Soup Of Happiness ' in your every breakfast for a happier and healthier life.
Only thing I dislike about winter That it seize my moving fan The sound when it revolves collaborates With clock's tik- tik Gives me mental peace, Works as lullabies, helps me to sleep But in winters when it stops From afar I hear barking dogs Vehicles moving on freezing road A knock on others door,
Disturb my sleep a little more Sometimes I get frozen listening Weird inklings,it maybe the shaking leaves or wanton gushing wind A tumbling falling glass startles Even soundless things sound louder In absence of fan's melody, Moving clock becomes solo artist Sings alone gloomy elegies,
The sound of moving fan along with clock Seems like day's ( life) chaos,often keep you busy Same like this world Where millions melodies you heard But at night(death) leaving you alone, All disappear for forever.
Etymology is the study of the origin of words and how the meaning of words has changed over the course of history. Let’s get meta and take the word “etymology” as an example. “Etymology” derives from the Greek word etumos, meaning “true.”
Cappuccino (Origin: Italian/German) Next time you’re trying to flirt with someone at your local coffee shop, impress them with this whimsical anecdote about the origin of the word cappuccino: it’s the diminutive form of the word cappuccio, which means “hood” in Italian. Wondering what the link is between a (little) hood and a cappuccino? One must look no further than the Capuchin Monks, whose hooded habits were a dark, oak brown similar to the color of a good cappuccino.