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Home-I

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English Poetry

Flipping through the days long gone by

sepia screen shades well

those days,

now handed over.

Folded arms held weight

evenings

never wished to close in.

Smell

 of the last rain, the scattered leaves

in pale raiment

lay sideways

an emptied bottle, stale stench

a few dizzied flies, display day’s labor

winter, rain drenched

always led me homeward.

 

Today,

miles, miles away,

winter thickens in weary waste

its infant wobble

camel walks a faint hint

Of the warmth knitting…

 the yarns, cuddling up

in the nest

Far north-east.

 

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n.b: working on a home series for the forum that offered me a space of my own…

Pray!dear members, you who have borne many a silent observation and my instantaneous critique (to very few), accommodate the writings shared after a long long time. Humbly presenting a work close to being me. A leaf of diaspora thus wails with words whimpering..

Regards

5 Comments

  1. Vikash says:

    Nice poem.
    Welcome back…!

  2. kusum says:

    Your poem comes like a fresh breeze from the far north east.
    Kusum

  3. purabi says:

    vikash& kusum

    THANK YOU…

  4. Gion Gion says:

    Purabi,
    ” the yarns, cuddling up

    in the nest” Has “yarns” a dual meaning here?
    Fergus

    • purabi says:

      I am afraid not, Fergus!
      the literal meaning of the term was loud enough for my hometown& my mom splly.
      🙁

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