My Home Is Not Forest Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

Man oh man be kind, don’t be so mean
Leave for me a scrap, don’t lick it clean
Men of toiled hands, creasy worry face
My home is not forest, but this urban space
I love yer food so tasty, spicy, fried in oil
Peck at everything, even your bowel’s spoil

Man oh man be kind, don’t be so harsh
Leave a little space, my space is sparse
Men of busy walks, bushy knitted brow
My home is not forest, here only I grow
I love yer food so tasty, but it ain’t a shame
Pick up everything, even your spit and phlegm

Man oh man be kind, kindly look at me
Leave a little love, I love your company
Men fair and dark, having or lacking grace
My home is not forest, I live at your address
I love yer food so tasty, crunchy salty sweet
Pounce at everything, your waste becomes my treat

Man oh man be kind, I ensure your place don’t rot
Pay me your sight a little, spare me a kind thought
Men of all shades, all religion cast and creed
My home is not forest, your space is what I need
I love yer food so tasty, the smell when you unwrap
I’ll gleefully pick up, my friend’s throwaway scrap

Man oh man be kind, don’t feign you don’t care
I’m your all season mate, comrade of all weather
Men of generous souls, broad and golden heart
My home is not forest, I love to be your part
I love yer food so tasty, baked or fried in oil
Throw for me a crumb, a scrap for all my toil