here it is a collection of poems about hope and or holding on despite everything !
I Am Not Ready To Die Yet by Aracelis Girmay
A Litany for Survival by Audre Lorde
Snowdrops by Louise Glück
Most Days I Want to Live by Gabrielle Calvocoressi
Insha’Allah by Danusha Laméris
A Good Day by Kait Rokowski
Invitation by Mary Oliver
Instructions on Not Giving Up by Ada Limón
Tommorow is a Place by Sanna Wani
The World Has Need of You by Ellen Bass
Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower by Rainer Maria Rilke
To the Young Who Want to Die by Gwendolyn Brooks
Night Walk by Franz Wright
Sorrow is Not My Name by Ross Gay
Everything Is Waiting For You by David Whyte
The Letter by Linda Greg
Testify by Eve L. Ewing
Every Day as a Wide Field, Every Page by Naomi Shihab Nye
Tumhara hijr mana lun agar ijazat ho, main dil kisi se laga lun agar ijazat ho?
Tumhari yaad mein jeene ki aarzoo hai, kuch apna haal sambhal lun agar ijazat ho?
-Jaun Elia
here's to finding someone who loves me as much as Franz Kafka loves whoever the fuck he wrote those letters for
Top Gear: Patagonia Special (2014) || Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
“It’s all in your head” yeah that’s kind of the entire problem innit
not evil anymore i want to be loved now
Instagram: literaryperi
I agree with every word. But I think it won't be on a noisy day. Not on a day too much happens. It'll just be a normal boring day, that you wake up go to work, laugh at your coworkers lame/brilliant(depending on their mental capacity) jokes, and it'll just be over in the afternoon. We'd all be doing something mundane, and the humdrum activities will busy us and we won't be thinking of anything. And then it'll be over. Just like we were never there.
How will the world end?
it’s genuinely not something i think too much about. there are people to love and dishes to do in the meantime.
باغ بہاراں تے گلزاراں بن یاراں کس کاری ؟
یار ملے دکھ جان ہزاراں شکر کہاں لکھ واری
Baagh baharaan te gulzaraan bin yaaraan kis kaari Yaar milan dukh jaan hazaraan, shukr karan lakh vari
–Mian Muhammad Bakhsh
What effect of this spring, of these garden, without my friends?
When friends meet, share the griefs, I offer gratitude thousand times
"We all are men, in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh; few are angels."
-William Shakespeare
Vo ittefaq se mil jaaye raaste mein kahin
mujhe ye shaukh musalsal safar me rakhta hai
-What are you?-To define is to limit. They call me voltage. Because I've got a lot of potential, but I'm mostly negative.
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