Nine times,
Nine lives.
Nine blinks,
Nine wines.
Nine songs.
Nine nights,
Nine men.
Nine planets,
Nine moons.
Nine times nine,
Neighing in denial.
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twisted
Abstract
Vodka mornings,
Coffee nights.
Pagans on hearth,
Church bells toll.
Miracles and sins,
Washed in a tunnel.
Red
On choppy waters,
Rain came down.
The sea gargled,
The boat broke down.
Swam to the coast,
Sandy and rocky.
The shipwreck floated,
Away with the bloated.
Deserted fort, tall and grand,
Shelter and sustenance,
Were hunted and found.
A pinch of magic,
And a feast laid out.
Warm candles and smiles,
And blankets went around.
The wind blew hard,
The sea turned red.
A boatload of folks,
Walked in with a shard.
Share, they said,
We are ravaged too.
The water was so murky,
Everything turned blue.
Breaking bread together,
The young and the old.
Watched through the window,
As the ghosts turned cold. 
Siesta
Eight hundred minutes and more, the eyes stayed shut.
The restless mind, opened a portal of colours and woes.
Men, women and children and some unknown creatures too.
Played and pranced on the blank canvas in the open hut.
When daylight came, the mind was more marred,
By distant memories of the night left ajar.
A black pot of coffee, sat on the table,
Waiting to be guzzled by notorious men.
A killer, a rapist and a conman.
The house lay quiet, not a whisper was heard.
For all who lived within had been dead or hurt.
The three men quietly retreated in the silhouette,
After having a meal of shards and omelette.
As the sun rose higher, they cussed and sweated,
For climbing uphill, was fickle and false-hearted.
Of all their wrong-doings, they pondered,
The child, the dog and the urn,
Shouldn’t have been disturbed.
