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Bird Nest – A Poem

Living in and out of this body I always wondered What makes a house a home…
Living in and out of this body/I always wondered/What makes a house a home...
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Living in and out of this body 

I always wondered

What makes a house a home

 

The bed that sleeps me in

The arm-chair for watching sunsets

The window opening out to the other world

 

Or the people that inhabits its walls-

Their laughter, tears, sorrow, pain, anger

And love

Making each room their own

Or the people that inhabits its walls-/Their laughter, tears, sorrow, pain, anger/And love
Or the people that inhabits its walls-/Their laughter, tears, sorrow, pain, anger/And love

What makes a house a home then-

All houses are bird nests that were/A home once
All houses are bird nests that were/A home once

Bricks and mortars carrying 

The shadow of my father breathing softly 

Lingering smell of spices from the kitchen

The old player drafting songs she loved

Lingering smell of spices from the kitchen/The old player drafting songs she loved
Lingering smell of spices from the kitchen/The old player drafting songs she loved

Or the pallor of empty cobwebs-

Skeletal memories in obscure corners

Telling the probing winds

All houses are bird nests that were

A home once

All Images: Freeimages.com

Born and brought up in Kolkata, India, Raja Chakraborty is a much-published bilingual poet, writing in English and Bengali. He has penned five books of English poems. His Bengali publication spans across eight books of rhymes and poems. He is also a regular contributor to magazines and anthologies.

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