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My native blood runs
along with the rush of wind
carrying the aroma of biryani and curry
the colors of the saris
bring out the vibrant rainbows
as the women walk
while their children whine
for a lick of kulfi
and the husbands bargain and argue
over the price of gold

As dusk arrives, the traffic swiftly grows
I hear the ripples of my tongue all around
the sweet sound of a hummingbird's music
when twilight approaches
my parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles
all go back to their own nests
as do I

Deep into the night
I hear the rustling of the leaves
the swaying of the trees
their whispers calling me back once again
and that night I dream
I dream of my beautiful country, Bangladesh,
which also lies in a little place I found
my home New York City

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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Yvaine_96This teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jun. 27, 2010 at 7:10 am:
im a Bengali and I loved the way you wrote this poem. Do you come home often? And dont you just love the 14th of April-- Pahela Boishakh?
 
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SilverDawn said...
Aug. 5, 2009 at 10:03 pm:
wow, that was awesome! your vivid descriptions and patriotism are admirable. i do hope you keep writing. i'd love to read more from you! (:
 
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