'An Indian Stray' poem by Anish Baskar.

An Indian Stray

In his blood, bustled a sequel

Monotonous in tone and tears.

The tears that stream'd like Ganges,

Flooded every verses to his sons,

Grandsons and later bearings.

He wept, they said. They wept 

Covert'd tears that n'er sheds.

His voice muted by his senses,

Not all by ears, his sequel seen

Thru naked and tender eyes.

Ribs flaunted with Mayflower buds,

His sore skin, dulled-eyes with tongue parched

Dies for shelter that cipher leas'd.

Vagabonds are they in famish'd pursuit,

Burglar of bones for the younger bellies.

In rhythm to rocks and canes,

From left-to-right he oscillated.

His blood-coloured body faced down,

Cold-blooded two-legged animals

Trampled him to death.

There I stood vulnerable in vain,

Peekin' his purging eyes of man's sins.

His blood flooded every verses to his sons,

Grandsons and later bearings,

Contused for shambles in malefic cages.

Not all by eyes I've seen, his sequel heard 

From his poignant wails,

To concede the adversity of lower beings. 

-Anish Baskar.