bakuli bhakali

Gold Star - 6,033 Points (14/12/1986 / assam)

The Village Where I Was Born - Poem by bakuli bhakali

My village is my village
Without speciality.
A village,
Just as another.

With mornings mounted on busy rustic schedule.
Birds chirruping,
Children chanting
Men milking, women cooking,
Even in early dawn.
Long lazy afternoons
And holy dusks.
Nights are cut short.
A day of much effort.

With winters curled up dark cold nights
Summers scented wild
Sunny and bright.

Houses lined up parallel to one another
Escalating day by day
In the civilized ladder.

Villagers live in age old traditions.
It’s in dilapidated condition.

Topic(s) of this poem: village

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, October 29, 2015

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