Two Poems
By Amit Kumar Das
Find me a home,
a small corner that doesn’t weep the slow decay of time,
a bed of forest where roots never give up in the face of melting clocks
By Amit Kumar Das
Find me a home,
a small corner that doesn’t weep the slow decay of time,
a bed of forest where roots never give up in the face of melting clocks
By Tikuli
years ago I bid adieu to my homeland
the colours of autumn that stained my heart
have long faded and the rivers that ran
deep in the lines of my hands have dried
By Meghna Roy
I smile and say that
Home is no more a noun, but
an adjective that qualifies this
long sentence from Kashmir.
By Omair Bhat
I will love you then under
muzzles of assault rifles of
troops, slithering
out from sandbag bunkers into
silence of our city
By Daniel de Culla
Drum-rolling that Paganism is the first
And was destroyed
By the savage and cruel Christians
By Rituparna Borah
Ever so subtly, with a diligent play of colours, facial expressions and moving monologues, Kar-Wai brings home the anguish of homelessness with acute finesse, thereby kindling unwonted emotions even in those of us, who wallow in the feeling of having a home.