"andhe" poems - Hello Poetry

ANDEHRA BAHUT GEHRA THA........... chandani bhi thi...kuch sitare bhi the..par na jane kyu ...Andehra bahut gehra tha Madhushala damak rahi thi andhe musafiron ki pukaar mein..par aawaz mein prem nahi tha bass thi do pal ke sukh ki duhai... soot boot wale bhi aa rahe aur gir pad ke jaa rahe.. kuch motor pe aye the ussi par chale gaye.... andhe thee sab shayad...ya roshini ne andere ko chupa diya tha....kyki meine dekha tha...andehra bahut gehra tha. madushala ke deewar ke par ek baachi roo rahi thi vo zindagi ki bhik mang rahi thi na jane usne koon sa dukh dekha tha.....uski aanke laal aur maan bhari saa lag raha tha Na vo matvale dekh paye na hum madhosh sunn paye uski pukar kyuki.... andehra bahut gehra tha do matwalone uuse paise de chale..par kya vo uska guzara tha kyuki sooch ke dekhiye andehri raat madhushala ke par vo baachi akeli thi vo madhushala abhi bhi khadi hai..hamare dilo mein shayad humne uska bachpan chiina shayad vo andehra uske dukh ko chipa raha thi vo raaat bahut kali thi..hawa matwali thi...uss raat aur anne wali raat andehra bahut gehra tha

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Jun 1, 2018

Jun 1, 2018 at 4:18 AM UTC

hellopo

Andehra bahut gehra tha

ANDEHRA BAHUT GEHRA THA........... chandani bhi thi...kuch sitare bhi the..par na jane kyu ...Andehra bahut gehra tha Madhushala damak rahi thi andhe musafiron ki pukaar mein..par aawaz mein prem nahi tha bass thi do pal ke sukh ki duhai... soot boot wale bhi aa rahe aur gir pad ke jaa rahe.. kuch motor pe aye the ussi par chale gaye.... andhe thee sab shayad...ya roshini ne andere ko chupa diya tha....kyki meine dekha tha...andehra bahut gehra tha. madushala ke deewar ke par ek baachi roo rahi thi vo zindagi ki bhik mang rahi thi na jane usne koon sa dukh dekha tha.....uski aanke laal aur maan bhari saa lag raha tha Na vo matvale dekh paye na hum madhosh sunn paye uski pukar kyuki.... andehra bahut gehra tha do matwalone uuse paise de chale..par kya vo uska guzara tha kyuki sooch ke dekhiye andehri raat madhushala ke par vo baachi akeli thi vo madhushala abhi bhi khadi hai..hamare dilo mein shayad humne uska bachpan chiina shayad vo andehra uske dukh ko chipa raha thi vo raaat bahut kali thi..hawa matwali thi...uss raat aur anne wali raat andehra bahut gehra tha

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.It was mid-winter, 1927. Cold isn't even one of the wordsI would have used to describethat winter.It was more bone chillingthan I really care to remember. We were both young,Davie and I. November,before momma and daddydied was the last time we had heard from the man at the bank.Foreclosure was the wordthat formed icicles in my heart. We were downto our last can of beans.We were frightened, to say the least. We had no way to heat them,the wood was all burned.I swept away the old ashin hopes there would besome kindling there.There was not. Then I got an idea.When granddad was a boy,he collected chunks of coalthat fell from the trainsrunning from the mountain minesto the cities far away. The unused stall in the barnhad six large burlap bags full.I told Davie to stay put.The snow was so deepthat it took me over an hour to reach the barn.I filled up an old Diamond's potatoes sack plumb to the top.I retraced my stepsback through the snow,almost tasting the warm beanssliding down my throat. Davie's eyes danced upon my return, his tears dried the instant I opened the half frozen door. I quickly assembled a small pyramid of coalin the stove and set themablaze. They glowed like molten steel,as we warmed our hands. Iwarmed our last can of beansand exchanged worried glanceswith Davie.I told Davie to say the prayer,then we ate. The beans were good. Oh,Lord were they good!We chewed each one as if theywere made of gold.I woke with a yawn the next morningand the sun was shining. Davie had risenearlier than Iand he had even done his choreswithout being asked. I told him that I was proud of himand patted him on the backlike daddy used to. Suddenly Davie looked at me funny andhe handed me backthat same Diamond's Potatoes sackI had just emptied the coal from last night. He told me he was cleaning the ashfrom the stove and he found this pileof glass stones.I looked closer...

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Jan 27, 2010

Jan 27, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC

redbarchettadrive

~The Story You Won't Soon Forget ♥♥

.It was mid-winter, 1927. Cold isn't even one of the wordsI would have used to describethat winter.It was more bone chillingthan I really care to remember. We were both young,Davie and I. November,before momma and daddydied was the last time we had heard from the man at the bank.Foreclosure was the wordthat formed icicles in my heart. We were downto our last can of beans.We were frightened, to say the least. We had no way to heat them,the wood was all burned.I swept away the old ashin hopes there would besome kindling there.There was not. Then I got an idea.When granddad was a boy,he collected chunks of coalthat fell from the trainsrunning from the mountain minesto the cities far away. The unused stall in the barnhad six large burlap bags full.I told Davie to stay put.The snow was so deepthat it took me over an hour to reach the barn.I filled up an old Diamond's potatoes sack plumb to the top.I retraced my stepsback through the snow,almost tasting the warm beanssliding down my throat. Davie's eyes danced upon my return, his tears dried the instant I opened the half frozen door. I quickly assembled a small pyramid of coalin the stove and set themablaze. They glowed like molten steel,as we warmed our hands. Iwarmed our last can of beansand exchanged worried glanceswith Davie.I told Davie to say the prayer,then we ate. The beans were good. Oh,Lord were they good!We chewed each one as if theywere made of gold.I woke with a yawn the next morningand the sun was shining. Davie had risenearlier than Iand he had even done his choreswithout being asked. I told him that I was proud of himand patted him on the backlike daddy used to. Suddenly Davie looked at me funny andhe handed me backthat same Diamond's Potatoes sackI had just emptied the coal from last night. He told me he was cleaning the ashfrom the stove and he found this pileof glass stones.I looked closer...

1

maybe i'm in a bookstore browsing some young adult novels and i notice someone's p r e s e n c e joining me in the isle but i don't bother to look u p. i'm reading the back of a book with a pretty cover. s l o w l y, the presence comescloseruntil i hear a voice say, "try it." and i look up to find the voice belongs to a boy with big brown eyes and a head of tou sl ed dark hair (my own personal definition of gorgeous) i ask, "should i?" and he g i v e s an approving nod and says, "it's my favoritebookontheplanet." and i say, "it's a b i g planet." and he says, "it's a good book." and i believe him. soon, i'm walking round withhim andhe's showing me some of his other favorite books. and i'm l i s t e n i n g and he'saskingme about my favorite books and he's l i s t e n ing. it's one of those few beautiful times where the world mightnoteven exist outside of this moment and you'renotsureyouwould entirely care if it did. and maybe it's love.

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Aug 9, 2014

Aug 9, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC

Somma

picture this:

maybe i'm in a bookstore browsing some young adult novels and i notice someone's p r e s e n c e joining me in the isle but i don't bother to look u p. i'm reading the back of a book with a pretty cover. s l o w l y, the presence comescloseruntil i hear a voice say, "try it." and i look up to find the voice belongs to a boy with big brown eyes and a head of tou sl ed dark hair (my own personal definition of gorgeous) i ask, "should i?" and he g i v e s an approving nod and says, "it's my favoritebookontheplanet." and i say, "it's a b i g planet." and he says, "it's a good book." and i believe him. soon, i'm walking round withhim andhe's showing me some of his other favorite books. and i'm l i s t e n i n g and he'saskingme about my favorite books and he's l i s t e n ing. it's one of those few beautiful times where the world mightnoteven exist outside of this moment and you'renotsureyouwould entirely care if it did. and maybe it's love.

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