Were we ever really there?
- Reads 46
- Votes 10
- Parts 1
Complete Wed, Aug 27, 2014<5 mins
#668
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"Things I Never Said Out Loud"
This is not pretty poetry. These are truths I was never taught to speak. Here lie the words I swallowed, the pain I buried, and the questions they told me not to ask. For the unheard. For the unseen. For the ones who feel too much in a world that tells them to feel less. I write for you. I write for me.Complete
رسمت لـه نجد في قلبي لمربـاعّـه
هذه القصة وليدة خيالٍ جامح ، تنسج حروفها على نول الوهم والاحتمال فإن تماهت شخصياتها أو تداخلت أحداثها مع شيءٍ من واقعكم فاعلموا أن ذلك لم يكن محض مصادفة...بل مقصودًا ؛ ذبحني مرخي الرمش الخجول الناعس النجدي هواني وإن هويته ما قويت الموت من دونه.. لا منه رمى رمشه ولا مس خده الوردي تضيع الشمس . . وأنوار المكان بنظرة عيونه
love
basic shots with our fav magic
« أنَت الجَروُح الدَامْية وأنَت ألطَبيِب »
- روايه تجمع الثغرات بداخل الجميع وايضاً البساطه الحنونه ، فيها المريض والحزين والكسير والمنجرح والمنهزم والمدمن والطموح والغير مختار مساره بعد ولكن موج الروايه ستجعل تلك السنين التي سيعيشها بهذه الروايه تختلف تماماً عن سنين عمره الماضيه ، بطلة روايتي { نجود } تعيش بـ احد الديار القريبه من نجد تحت محاولاتها لـ اكمال دراستها وعندما تُتاح لها الفرصه تنفتح امامها كل مشاكل الارض وبعد تخطيها تجد عذاب دنياها بـ انتظارها ولكنها تجهله حتى يصبح لهيب ناره يحرق جوفها ، بينما بطلي { جابر } يعيش بـ اراضي نجران بين المخدرات والحياه الكسيفه وتسمى حياته بـ لاحياة لمن تنادي فـ السموم سممت دواخله ليس حُب بها يلتهمها انما عنادً بـ الجميع وايضاً يعشق عندما تفصله عن واقعه وتجعله انسان بغير ضمير واحساس لكي لايعذبه ضميره على افعال لم يكن له ذنبً بها ولكن تلك السموم كانت سببً بها يُعاتب ذاته على اخطاء لم يقترفها ولازال يحاسب ذاته عليها عندما يخرج من سجن ويدخل للأخر. - هذا تفصيل صغير عن ابطالي ولكن البقيه اريد ان تتعرفو عليهم وتستمتعون بقصصهم المختلفه ولـ عوالمهم الغير متشابهه بقلمي الذي ينزف على الصفحات ليخرج من دمائه اساطير لن يتخطاهم الزمان ولا ذاكرات القراء. - [ الكاتبه مها🕯️❣️ ]
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စိုင်းတည်တံ့ဉီး + နှိုင်းမြတ်ဘုန်း
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This is not pretty poetry. These are truths I was never taught to speak. Here lie the words I swallowed, the pain I buried, and the questions they told me not to ask. For the unheard. For the unseen. For the ones who feel too much in a world that tells them to feel less. I write for you. I write for me.
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