New outlaws of the old west Quotes, Status, Photo, Video

ARORArt

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One of the old sketches.

One of the old sketches.

TasavvaredrishegmailcomTasavvaredrishegmailcom

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mujhe pata hoti ki javani aisi Hoti hai main to Bachpan mein hi truck ke niche a jata ©TasavvaredrishegmailcomTasavvaredrishegmailcom singer in the west

mujhe pata hoti ki javani aisi Hoti hai main to Bachpan mein hi truck ke niche a jata ©TasavvaredrishegmailcomTasavvaredrishegmailcom singer in the west

msraza guru

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RESPECT THE TIME THAT WHAT CHANGE YOUR LIFE . DON'T WEST THE TIME.

RESPECT THE TIME THAT WHAT CHANGE YOUR LIFE . DON'T WEST THE TIME.

MRubya

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Beneath a barren tree, weathered and gray, Stands an old man, his steps marked by a walking stick's sway, By the sea he lingers, memories etched in his eyes, A silent symphony of moments, where time slowly flies. With each gust of wind, the tree's branches creak and moan, Once adorned with life, now naked and alone, Like the old man, who stands with tales untold, A lifetime of experiences, weathered yet bold. The rhythmic waves crash upon the shore, Echoing the old man's journey, forevermore, He finds solace in the sea's relentless roar, A companion through joys and sorrows, forevermore. In the twilight's embrace, he reflects on days gone by, A life well-lived, filled with laughter and sigh, Underneath the tree, he finds a fleeting peace, Amidst the whispers of the wind, his worries cease. For in his presence, nature's beauty thrives, A testament to the resilience of lives, The old man, the tree, the sea entwined, A timeless tableau, a story enshrined. Though the tree stands bare, stripped of its past, And the old man's steps falter, weary and vast, Their spirits intertwine, a poignant embrace, As they stand united, anchored in grace. For the old man and the tree, an eternal bond they share, As they stand together, in stillness and in prayer, In their presence, we find wisdom and solace anew, A testament to life's cycles, old and true. ©Mary Rubya Whispers of Time: The Old Man, the Dried Tree, and the Sea #alone #old

Beneath a barren tree, weathered and gray, Stands an old man, his steps marked by a walking stick's sway, By the sea he lingers, memories etched in his eyes, A silent symphony of moments, where time slowly flies. With each gust of wind, the tree's branches creak and moan, Once adorned with life, now naked and alone, Like the old man, who stands with tales untold, A lifetime of experiences, weathered yet bold. The rhythmic waves crash upon the shore, Echoing the old man's journey, forevermore, He finds solace in the sea's relentless roar, A companion through joys and sorrows, forevermore. In the twilight's embrace, he reflects on days gone by, A life well-lived, filled with laughter and sigh, Underneath the tree, he finds a fleeting peace, Amidst the whispers of the wind, his worries cease. For in his presence, nature's beauty thrives, A testament to the resilience of lives, The old man, the tree, the sea entwined, A timeless tableau, a story enshrined. Though the tree stands bare, stripped of its past, And the old man's steps falter, weary and vast, Their spirits intertwine, a poignant embrace, As they stand united, anchored in grace. For the old man and the tree, an eternal bond they share, As they stand together, in stillness and in prayer, In their presence, we find wisdom and solace anew, A testament to life's cycles, old and true. ©Mary Rubya Whispers of Time: The Old Man, the Dried Tree, and the Sea #alone #old

Devishmita Das

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Oh old summer, I miss you.. The old childhood I miss you... The story half written in my destiny... Oh new Summer you bliss few... And the pain I know is unknown to me.. The pain I feel isn't desired... Oh the government of this cruel pain system... Cut my lonliness, get me fired... #dhunuwrites The old summer (a part of the poem)

Oh old summer, I miss you.. The old childhood I miss you... The story half written in my destiny... Oh new Summer you bliss few... And the pain I know is unknown to me.. The pain I feel isn't desired... Oh the government of this cruel pain system... Cut my lonliness, get me fired... #dhunuwrites The old summer (a part of the poem)