From the top rung of the ladder,
         she slowly steps backwards
seeing me  approach, touch down
        then, like a whirlwind, quickly turns
kisses me full on my lips
           with  such an urgency
love full of passion alone would explain,
          the feast for my eyes for
what seemed a long time, a fallacy of course
         is forgotten by my thankless mind,
but, oh! yes my lips now receive
          the same measure of pleasure,
  as a love potion, with a searing taste.

As he walks blindly, the somnambulist
deep in his subconscious is awareness why it happens;
loveless nights prompts wanderings in darkness
he can't willfully stop this wild goose chase

Aren't we dreams complex that bloomed
in the garden of *Rorschach?
ink blots with hidden meanings
where ghosts of the past roam to pluck flowers

My pet cat licks my face repeatedly; it feels a bit strange
to jut my jaw forward for a feline to lick and make my face wet.
but as I sit my eyes shut, it feels unreasonably nice, then, it dawns:
she is clicking her LIKES on my real Facebook page
                                                                           the way she knows best.
Eureka! this is my tender Archimedes moment !
the naked truth, reveals itself before me like Venus
why the crazy craving, without rhyme or reason
for LIKES in Facebook and cyberspace;
                                                                          now, I understand so well.

Precariously perched on crossed log
Around his neck tightening noose
Did once repent the most lovable ****
Why only wealth did he choose?

Pariah dogs pain me.

I feel for those mute sufferers
But can’t fill their life.

Many a times I have dreamed of
A doggery in my backyard
For those giver only friends.

Do for them something tangible

Send appeals to kind souls for charity
Creating a kind of NGO for these bravehearts
Giving them something from the more
They deserve.

I haven’t done anything of these.

Under twinkling stars
I feed them scraps
And mourn

When one is less.

in a state of disuse
the old gold mine stood  
as the cost of retrieving it
twas not financially viable
miners back in the days
of the gold rush
had abandoned
their panning sites
skeletons of gold cradles
lain by the creek edge
the flecks of gold
had become a dream
the grandest of illusions

with the advent
of modern mining techniques
the old mine had life giving oxygen
put back into it again
a company from Sydney
commenced quarrying
along the creek's ore vein
good quality gold  
twas retrieved
a bounty of abundance
which shone so vividly

if the old miners
of yesterday
were around
to-day
they'd be quoting
these words
in a most affirming way...
thought nothing can bring back the hour of splendor
in the grass of glory in the flower