Homeless Poem by Ezra Juellinge
Homeless
My home is somewhere between that river,
That flows to the receiver from the giver.
My home is somewhere between those forests,
That starts from the loser and ends as the best.
My home is somewhere between those looks,
That flows from the eyes to the books.
My home is somewhere between those pens,
That starts from the top and finish at the end.
My home is somewhere between that bridge,
That starts from the kitchen and falls into the fridge.
I have a home 'cause they bless,
I open my eyes and find myself homeless.
Thanks for commenting on my poem. You touchingly presented the homelessness of a housewife who bridges her kitchen with the fridge and ends her life. But was she homeless?
Well thought out poem elegantly embellished in poetic rhyme and rhythm. A beautiful creation. Thanks for sharing Ezra.
So deep poetry.. Keep it up... I would like you read my poem In the mid of the night depression you are killing me too.. Naila
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 3:16:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
uh-uh! Cannot use that last rhyme (you would have to pronounce it homeLESS) I believe Alexander nailed the meaning pretty well.. no? pretty good stuff