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“Where is My Home?”

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Here I am in middle of my life, sitting clueless
Finding nothing to boast
Instead, trying hard just to settle in a place
Moving from coast to coast.

As though living in two worlds, hence
Always feel torn
Foreigner in a land of a permanent residence
Unknown in a place where I was born

Suddenly a semi flies by, honking me madly

Didn’t realize was driving in dual lanes
Gasping for breath, I stop on the shoulder
Of the desolate highway
The semi is still visible afar
On the lonely interstate, speeding away–
Little further, lights reflect from Houston’s astrodome
I feel as though
A question reverberates in the cold air over southern Texas
Home, where is your home?

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About Gautam

  • Guppusmaximus

    Wow… Talk about destruction of the English language.I always thought that poetry was for people who mastered their language skills? Just like the language, maybe you should take more driving lessons as well.

  • That was a rather cold assessment on both the language and the situation.

    Home is where one makes it.

  • Guppusmaximus

    How so?? He was born here? Maybe not,but he doesn’t use grammar properly to portray that information or even how to follow the directions of the road… I believe it was an honest assessment for a person trying to communicate emotion in the beautiful art of Poetry. Unfortunately, I think his driving skills are a little more important than his poetry skills.Take some lessons so you don’t kill someone…

  • Paul

    Gautam has found poetry’s purpose. His grammar is poor. But, he writes more sincerely than almost anything else I find. Gautam is authentic, the real thing.