Home

Home

Home -Priya Bhatnagar ©

Concrete jungles,

Maze of cars,

Cacophony of modern hours.

Lost identities,

No one knows who you are.

 

Souls vanish,

In the smog.

Trying to find,

Their owners

They are lost…

 

Anger,  greed,

That’s all they got.

No smile, no love,

Money and gold mines

Is what they long for.

 

Grey Smokey clouds,

Engulf the future.

Aroma of decaying matter,

Fills the air.

Acid rains,

Sun’s scorching rays,

Oh, what a romantic view!

 

I want to go home,

To the place where I belong.

Away from this chaos,

I want to go home.

Home

Home -Priya Bhatnagar ©

The pastures,

The swings

Hung by the branch,

of that old tree.

Home

Home -Priya Bhatnagar ©

The chirping songs,

Of birds

Fill my ears,

The clear night sky

Filled with stars,

The sound of chirping crickets

Fill the void of my heart.

Home

Home -Priya Bhatnagar ©

 

I am choking,

With tears in my throat.

My eyes burn,

With flood of tears,

The cool breeze from

Vents of industries,

The fresh air,

I breathe from my cigarette

Hurts my inner self.

 

Home

Home -Priya Bhatnagar ©

I want to go home,

To the place where I belong.

My land is calling me,

Where Love is what one needs.

The streams,

The lakes,

The trees,

The pastures,

Nostalgia hits me.

Home

Home -Priya Bhatnagar ©

 

Simple people,

Easy life,

No fake happiness,

No lies.

Nature and love,

Are Reality.

 

Home

Home -Priya Bhatnagar ©

I want to go home,

To the place where I belong,

Where my mother resides.

The little wooden house,

By the river side.

Greenery that pleases,

The viewer’s eyes.

Morning breeze from

The forest green.

The fresh crisp voices,

Laughter, the dew on grass.

IMG_20141217_151439

Home -Priya Bhatnagar ©

 

I want to go home,

To the place where I belong.

Where everyone knows,

Who you are.

The fishing nets,

The pretty paper boats,

The laughter,

Fills my bust with heaviness,

Tears pour out

The nostalgia hits me hard.

Swimming,

In lakes.

The castles,

And my wooden sword.

Home

Home -Priya Bhatnagar ©

I am going home,

To the place where I belong.

Place where I can peacefully sleep,

In my mother’s lap,

With the sweet melodies

Of her lullaby,

And nobody would judge me

For who I am.

Home

Home ( my mother and father ❤ :-* ) – Priya Bhatnagar ©

-Priya Bhatnagar ©

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