Not A Veg-Desire... Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

I wish I could squeeze
my ladylove with my limbs
into love juice
to drink her to the lees!

My thirsty soul
turned a strong weapon;
as stiff and strong as the middle one of a trident.

Like a steep, upright cliff
it penetrated into moist airy layers;
bent on reaching up to the zenith of high bliss
its eager peak fumed like an active crater`s kiss.

The skirting sea beneath
was fondling huge pedestal like bottom
and the steep cliff like weapon
grew mad to increase its height
bending down through the wet depth
into the very slushy bed of the sexy sea.

Things did not allow the thing
and kept it aside for the next time