a stinking dog sits below me
it has a way of feeling my feet
with its canal flavored tummy
affection it shows
and that i must understand
despite the dislike
i must somehow reciprocate it
with a pat on its
back
"nice dog" i say
faithful all the way
with its ultra sense of smell
it has not registered any complaint at all
about myself.
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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