#missinghome
A yearning so strong --
An unending game of tug-of-war
On my heart --
The vapors of long forgotten dreams.
I can hear Her call,
She crys out to me.
The Ozarks are my home,
They know where I belong.
But my dear Mountains,
Im so far gone.
I close my eyes and my memory serves well
Of jagged limestone bluffs
And trinkling streams all at race for a beautiful lake.
How long can I resist Her call?
The Ozarks chose, not me at all.
I'll come home someday,
Just wait and see...
But until then I guess I'll just be
Another peice of Ozark history.
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 2:28 AM UTC
‘I wish to see the snow’
i said, little 6 year old,
never in my life have I seen real snow—
the only snow I knew
was the artificial kind,
cold like winter's breath,
but somehow wrong, you get me?
they told me it’s the same,
white dust, falling in clumps,
but where was the silence?
the weight of a season
pressed soft upon the world?
so i tried to find it my own
something the same,
like her.
but the silence was not the same
it was cold.
and it was now that I felt that snow
the one that gave me frostbites
‘silly! get back to reality!’
Nov 11, 2024
Nov 11, 2024 at 6:52 PM UTC
And thus she went
Leaving behind her the many kind words
And lingering hopes that make all good things seamless,
But which fade like her perfume in places she slept.
When I saw her face disappear
Behind mirroring train reflections
I saw those who stared when we waved
Caught in the crossfire of our connection.
They should know, as all should, how
Our iron-clad love is feather armour
Marking a true knight of the cloth
The world's spasms worn about our backs with many gold brooches.
Such it is to be anointed, to filter all out
With your inestimable standards
Held high for those to see
How much she loves me.
Nov 12, 2023
Nov 12, 2023 at 7:25 AM UTC
A quarantined soul stuck in her abode,
longing to travel a country mile.
Walking through the known lanes,
those stilt houses and hilly paths
till the gate of my home,
where my parents live.
I can see them virtually
but that doesn't satisfy my heart!
I miss my mom's smile
I miss my dad's humour
I miss the sibling gossip while slurping the soupy Maggi bowl.
Yes this quarantined soul has become a wanderlust
Just to visit my home once!!
Bina Mukherjee
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 9:53 AM UTC
Missing home,
which is built with love,
little thunder and storm.
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 12:24 AM UTC
Today I feel it’s weight again.
A month has passed
Many things have happened
But finally I managed to find my way
Back home.
I thought I’d learned how to deal with it
How to heal
From every wound that each departure creates
I thought I could react
I thought I was fine
I am fine, or at least I should be
You see, there’s someone waiting for me,
far from home
It shouldn’t bother me this much
Leaving I mean
I thought it had become easier
Quicker
But if I think about how long I won’t be back
About my friends here
Panic occurs.
It feels like far from home
Is just a projection
Not my true reality
Just something that happens between
The visits I make
And yet
I spend more time making those visits
Rather than living home
That’s how it works
That’s how it should be
I thought I understood
But turns out I didn’t
Because here I am crying
Thinking that another month has to pass
Before I’ll come back again.
I’d better start looking for the right way
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 8:26 PM UTC
All the places where I have been
And the rest of this world to be seen
But deep down i felt something is missing
I guess I'm far away from home tonight
Holding you in my arms are the thing i miss the most
I wish you can wait from me to come back
Because I can't deny
I'm far away from home tonight
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 6:22 PM UTC
Even as I am all set to leave for Berkeley
I am still not sure of how I feel about going
I am grateful for a comfortable
window seat on the exit row
but feels an intense feeling of
being homesick
I haven't arrived Berkeley
but I can't wait to go home.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 10:55 AM UTC
I remember this time of the day
In the front yard where it's almost dusk
Swarms of mosquitoes buzzing in
We need to close the windows hurriedly
Or else they'll prey on us tonight
Then Nanay, with her broom without a stick
Will burn the dry leaves on the ground
Which she gathered together with
Abandoned paper planes and plastic kites
As the sun slowly disappears from our sight
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC