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Excerpt (Home-II)
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English Poetry |
Putting on a skin
parched,
to the pore
baked black.
Sand granule, prickly greens,
survey my fence.
My world now nestles amidst thorny shrubs
the moist green yard, ones
my feet were let to play with the dews
sparkling on them,
mother’s voice ringing in the background
warning, all the while
of catching cold
and ginger tea being served to keep warm;
the clouds too seemed, to be hearing the call
yodeling together
in foams.
Poor, feeble sun fighting out a lost battle,
rains drum- beat the roof.
These are now excerpts from a fairy tale
hiding and seeking between dreams
And watercolor days.
The rainbeat have lost their euphony
to the incessant horns, bullying
the little nerve left
in the buzzing,
ever expanding city.
Tropic of cancer
partitions my world
from that of my mother’s.
I must reach home,
before
the ginger tea turns cold.
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a moving eulogy of nature in all its aspects.
An excellent elegant poem on touchy profound nostalgia…
Liked immensely
Hearty commends
As I read your poem, rain is actually drumming down and at this time of night, no horns, just rain drops, the beauty of the sound is amazing!
The nostalgia so apparent in your poem. Beautiful!
I am a die hard fan of yours
i liked your style, your vocabulary, your muse, your theme.
loved it very much
i am late but i would not forget you my dear sis.
Your bro Rajdeep