Puffs of clouds
Walloping the breezy wind
Sparsely punctuating
The widening gap
Of a long day’s summer solstice
Curving at a nautical scale
Of the human equinox

Wildly at the breathing woods
Solar flare rises
Soaring high upon the sweating snows
Beating at the heats of sultry looking leaves
Crying tears seeping and smiling
Through the bony membranes
Of the perspiring skin
Like being cumulous raining from within
In drizzling droplets of uneasy calm

The summer perspires
From without the bloody veins
To cool off the beating heat in dusts
And ashes of soul’s extinguishing embers
The perspiring summer sees
No silver lining of cooling rains
At the nautical scale of the human equinox
To unfurl the wavy sails of the still wind.

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My god died
Long before the all almighty
Proclaimed the state of emergency
In his empire of plagues
And called it a day
Long before the mayhem
Subsided in truce
Of waging long wars
Of power and skulduggery.

And since then
The power has changed
Many hands in legerdemain
In war cry of hushed shenanigans
In sheer lust of colonial quests
Kingdoms of guns and roses
One after the other
Lying apart prostrated
At the altar of reigning supreme
Kissing the arse of the god almighty
Died long before colonial legacy
Ripped apart the forests and jungles
And shanties of ascetic sages
Of my dear old god.

My god died in captivity
Long before the sun
Shed its first deluge of light of life
And anciently old moon lighted
The bonfire into the staring darkness
With its strings of lyre of golden ebony
Defying the deafening silence
of a long and loud cantata sonata.

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A sandbag
Full of frothy fumes, only alone
Standing unassumingly
So highly erected thereby
On its last legs of fancy
As if so ejaculating in droplets
Of fear and upcoming fortunes
In sighs of somebody
To feel shyly the nakedness
Of willing moments
Lapsing into lolling saliva.

So far and so on
Not kissing nor relishing
The jerking verbes
Of the moonlight
In sackclothes of the sky
In strained silence
Overlapping the shadows
Of its stillness
In a passerby's parting ways
Of forbidden lust
And engaging passion
Of lasting froth
And ephemeral fumes.

Caged in blue moments
Surrounding the loneliness
Into the blobs of void
Of the sandbag, only so lonely
Acursed in its own standby
As enchanting folly
Of juvenile delinquency

Seeing the rare chance
Of the hapless creature
In nakedness of loneliness
The nomadic passerby
Got to the business as usual
In howling rains and heat
Of stoking fire
In reaping the harvest
Of the burden of his shoulder
In spilling fragrance
Of frothy semens to stand by.

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A cat has nine lives, so you say. But does cat live to count nine?

Yes. Once I read that cats can count. They can count seven. And only seven. Whether that is true does not matter but what matters is that animals do have some emotional attachment with the human beings and their own species.

They experience experience' also. We have all observed this or if we minutely observe, we can experience this. This is particularly true about domestic animals. It might be owing to close association and intimate relation that they manage to learn a few things and they apply this experience if and when the situation demands of them.

They also have joy and sorrow of their own which also they share with their masters and kith and kin. We have also observed the behaviour and mental acumen of the trained animals let alone the pet ones. So animals are just not dullards as we generally believe and so we cannot take them for a ride. Intelligent Quotient (IQ) of theirs might not be high but their Emotional Quotient (EQ) is fairly even.

Particularly cats and dogs are man's most pet animals and to say the least they are much more domesticated than animals like cows, goats and horses. That is why they become so loving and dear. They get educated in such a way that they feel free to exchange their heartfelt joys and sorrows with their masters. They give vent their feelings in their own unique way of communication and at the same time the masters can share their emotional moments with their pets. Yes, they might not understand, yet they can realise which is more than understanding!

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I see silence
In images
Of your lone face
Whispering in talks
Of semblance of love
As I kiss you
Your sweet nothings
Of loving soliloquy
In parting lips
Quivering for more
Eyes to meaning silence
While eyes hear
More of your unwept cry
In true blank verses
Of quintet
From the eyelashes
Of jerking singsong syllables

I submerge myself
In your soft hush of breath
Rounding off the wistful breasts
On a tip toe I walk over you
In tangled twigs of twists
And turns of sashaying throbs
As ever ready to be embers
Of frolicking fire burning
Our unextinguishing passion

Our love grows
Not ageing in moments
Of parting ways of diversion
Our love ages
But not dies in penthouse
Of captivity of silence
Silence whispers
In our ears
In abounding soliloquy
Of love and more love to last.

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My passion
Staring at you, so lonely
Your iceblue eyes
Closing at my heart for you
You like a bumble bee
You choose to be reigning
In your only hive
Far from my darkness
Of fiery passion

My heart beats
My heart bleeds off the embers
Extinguishing in ashen sigh
To be buried all in squarely memory
At the gravedigger's footfaults
I shy away to beat the dustheat
Off my passion for you
Yet you know not what to see
In your thousand mind's eye
As if not to free yourself, so lonely
From the shackles
Of your shadow's own self.

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