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Best Poems From
NIKHIL PAREKH
(27/08/1977)
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761.
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The Creator was everywhere
Be it the grandiloquently colossal castle; or the
fetidly stinking gutter hosting a fleet of obnoxious
cockroaches,
Be it the mystically shimmering Moon; or the
sweltering sands of the mammoth desert,
Be it the fathomless expanse of the azure blue sky; or
the minuscule nest of the piquant beaked woodpecker,
Be it the stupendously scented rose; or the yellow
mushroom decaying to oblivion in the heart of the
hills,
Be it the enigmatically deep and uncannily marvelous
dungeon; or the contemporary match box shaped town
square,
Be it the festoon of resplendently twinkling stars in
the cosmos; or the clammy interiors of the dingy
little and sordid hut,
Be it the electric paced stallion galloping through
rubicund farmlands; or the potbellied tortoise
traversing with Herculean effort on the hard ground,
Be it the astronomically huge ocean impregnated with
flocks of blue whales; or the small trace of saliva
lying desolate in the obsolete attic,
Be it the tumultuous streaks of pugnacious white
lightening; or the diminutive beehive camouflaged
sedately amidst the trees,
Be it the conventionally advanced computer; or the
clerk who hardly knew how to sign,
Be it the impeccable tufts of cotton sprouting in
blissful tandem from the fields; or the solitary rope
suspended morbidly from the ceiling,
Be it the incredulously fast paced aircraft kissing
the air faster than the speed of light; or the hunch
backed camel yawning embarrassingly under the
gargantuan cactus,
Be it the mountain laden with astonishingly
scintillating jewels from all round the continent; or
the droplet of blood oozing down the skin,
Be it the most invincible man trespassing on this
earth; or the astoundingly small infant who had just
emitted its first cry,
Be it the densely inhabited jungle with majestically
roaring lions; or the soft toy of plastic standing on
just a brick,
Be it the delectable meal of spell binding caramel
chocolates; or the nail embedded pathetically in the
broken wall,
Be it the superlatively rosy tongue chattering
incessantly all throughout the brilliant day; or the
stone which lay in perpetual silence beneath the lanky
grass,
Be it the island which perennially received the most
tenacious rays of the Sun; or the blind mans world
completely obfuscated from the slightest trace of
visible light,
Be it the balloon pompously inflated with
incomprehensible amounts of air; or the morose tyre
lying completely squashed like frigidly white ice,
Be it the entire army marching valiantly towards
inevitable victory; or the impoverished beggar begging
for alms every minute,
Be it the glittering gold watch ticking indefatigably
round the clock; or the placidly still statue which
didn’t speak or move at all,
Be it the loudest echo ever heard on this globe; or
the inaudible whisper dying before it even came out,
Be it the thunderously domineering shadow of the
towering edifice; or the ethereal shadow blending
every now and then with the dolorous darkness,
Be it the revered interiors of the adorable dwelling;
or the utterly disgusting and abhorrent steps leading
to your mundane office,
Be it the crackling flames of fire that leapt
ebulliently towards the coalition of emerald clouds;
or the shivering piece of freezing snow dangling from
the Christmas tree,
Be it the assembly of magnificently radiating mirrors
bundled up in an enamoring heap; or the distorted
strand of moustache floating like an insipid speck in
the atmosphere,
Be it the most remarkable of memory that could
conceive every possible situation to unfurl on the
trajectory of this planet; or the mockingly dumb worm
writhing on brown soil,
Be it the impregnable gates leading to the
presidential rooms; or the inconspicuous little
matchstick feeling soggy and despondently gloomy after
the rains,
Be it the unbelievably big bed stuffed with
ravishingly compassionate softness and warmth; or the
acrimonious thorn awaiting surreptitiously for
innocent flesh,
Be it the ingratiatingly sweet voice of the voluptuous
nightingale; or the pertinent mosquito brooding in the
profoundly hollow well,
Be it the most formidable stick in the bodyguard's
hands; or the finely pulverized pulp of ripe banana,
Be it the overwhelmingly blissful paradise harboring
the angels; or the timidly remorse voice of hell,
Be it the longest fabric ever woven and beautifully
stitched; or the threadbare string of dilapidated
shells orphaned mercilessly on the sea shores,
Be it the heart beating turbulently engulfed in the
flames of unrelenting passion; or the incongruous
follicle of hair sadly detached and lying as still as
the mud,
Be it the ingenious key able to crack through the
labyrinth of intricate lock; or the ludicrous buffoon
who kept falling even before he could rise,
Be it the luscious periphery of seductively alluring
lips; or the bland water incarcerated in small jugs of
wood,
Be it the awesome congregation of inscrutably swirling
waves crashing splendidly against the rocks; or the
dismally melting jelly in the austere heat of blazing
afternoon,
Be it the unfathomable peak of Mount Everest; or the
limp marble rolling on flat soil,
Be it the animatedly leaping Kangaroo with its pack of
siblings in its bulging pocket; or the perpetually
still photograph hanging in the sleazy dressing room,
Be it the exorbitantly costly shoes adorned by the
King as he walked on the streets; or the nakedly
petite foot coalescing with dust each time it kicked,
Be it the poignantly sharp kitchen knife ripping apart
through vegetables with nonchalant ease; or the blunt
sand with no taste of its at all,
Be it the rivulets of perspiration dribbling
tantalizingly through exotic skin; or the brutally
wounded territories of bruise that were left uncouthly
unattended,
Be it the beautifully embellished crown of the blue
blooded prince; or the mortifying bed about to split
into splinters on which the laborer slept,
Be it the most skillful doctor's clinic which was
inundated with a host of invaluably countless
medicines; or the doorstep of the patient attacked by
a mysteriously inexplicable disease,
Be it the wholesomely fascinating magician conjuring
mind boggling tricks on the stage; or the ordinary
soldier who wasn’t acquainted the slightest with the
art of bombastic sophistication,
Be it the handsomely heroic stag staring at its
reflection in the mesmerizing persona of transparent
water; or the horrendously ugly eunuch smoking his
life into relentless oblivion,
Be it a man following staunch religion all day and
every single night; or the furtive castaway who didn’t
know what was God at all,
Be it the most invincible of abode above ground; or
the evanescent corpse buried boundless feet beneath,
You name it and he was there; and you didn’t have to
walk marathon miles to reach the temple; church;
mosque; or monastery to worship him; you could very
well close your eyes and pray to him wherever you
wanted; for the Almighty Creator was Omnipresent; the
creator was everywhere….
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: soldier poems, water poems, passion poems, memory poems, ocean poems, light poems, snow poems, silence poems, rose poems, tree poems, moon poems, hair poems, fire poems, sea poems, sky poems, sleep poems, star poems, angel poems, kiss poems
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762.
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The Creator was present in each heartbeat of Immortal Love…
Neither was he solely of the intransigently sermonizing Christian; tirelessly prostrating infront of the magnificently embellished idol of ‘Jesus Christ’,
Neither was he solely of the fanatically resolute Muslim; who indefatigably immersed himself all night and day; into the sacred literature of the ‘Quran-e-Sharif’,
Neither was he solely of the nimble bodied Hindu; who intractably chanted the name of ‘Rama’ an infinite times; in a single unabashedly simpleton minute,
Neither was he solely of the altruistically renounced monk; who sat till the absolute end of infinity; infront of the impeccably white statue of ‘Gautam Buddha’,
But; the Omnipotent Almighty Creator was perennially present in every ingredient of blood; which belonged to all those who ubiquitously disseminated and forever bonded with the spirit of Immortal Love….
1…
Neither was he solely of the irrevocably faithful Christian; who let a boundless opportunities in his life go astray; if they insidiously transgressed against the scriptures of his God,
Neither was he solely of the timelessly kneeling Muslim; who wasn’t prepared to leave the insuperable walls of his Mosque; renouncing every worldly pleasure of glorious existence,
Neither was he solely of the selflessly robed Hindu; who never went even an infinitesimal whisker against his stringent culture and tradition; who slept; ate and prayed only on the deserted steps of the quaint temple,
Neither was he solely of the nomadic Buddhist; who relentlessly roamed from one of the deciduous forest to the other; in his perpetual search of the invincible form of ‘Buddha’,
But; the Omnipresent Almighty Creator was perennially present in every whiff of breath; which belonged to all those who forever undertook upon themselves the mission of healing every despairing life and heart; with the panacea of Immortal Love….
3…
Neither was he solely of the unimpeachably pious Christian; who dedicated every instant of his existence; ardently rotating the venerated rosary through the knots of his hands,
Neither was he solely of the immutably single focused Muslim; who fervently believed that all religions; beliefs; nationalities; led to the ultimate Heaven of ‘Allah’,
Neither was he solely of the devoutly expressionless Hindu; who experienced the power of the entire Universe; simply by staring at the portrait of his ‘Bhagwan’; sculptured in pink stone,
Neither was he solely of the unceasingly silent Buddhist; who tried his very best to assimilate and practice the paths of his undefeated God; the undying imprints of the peace-loving ‘Buddha’,
But; the Omniscient Almighty Creator was perennially present in every beat of the heart; which belonged to all those who were the unflinchingly fearless harbingers of love; even in the land of the ghoulishly massacring demon…..
4….
Neither was he solely of the unfailingly earnest Christian; who spent an infinite of his lifetimes; lighting the candles of his majestic church; in his profound admiration and appreciation of the Lord,
Neither was he solely of the wondrously enchanted Muslim; who uttered the name of ‘Allah’ at every juncture of life; and even whilst agonizingly abnegating from the heavenly physical form,
Neither was he solely of the passionately olive skinned Hindu; who kept the name of each one in his kin as ‘Bhagwan’; to timelessly safeguard himself against every evil spirit and be in due salvation of his God,
Neither was he solely of the beautifully terse Buddisht; who spent every unfurling instant of his life; kissing the holy footprints of the impregnable ‘Gautam Buddha’,
But; the unassailable Almighty Creator was perennially present in every voice; which belonged to all those who unconquerably sang the song of unbiased friendship; who unnervingly and forever defended the Universe of Immortal Love…
©®copyright by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
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763.
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The Cry of the heart
The cry of the lion was majestically thunderous;
although it died as the minutes rapidly unveiled; with
the stupendous tranquility of the forests taking
wholesome control,
The cry of the clouds was insatiably voluptuous;
although it faded after a while; as the Sun
Omnipotently enlightened even the most infinitesimal
entity in neighboring vicinity,
The cry of the shark was royally piercing; although it
diminished almost as soon as it had come; with the
unfathomably undulating wave wholesomely drowning it
into an ocean of mesmerizing froth,
The cry of the eagle was exuberantly aristocratic;
although it vanished surreptitiously from the sky in
an ethereal flash; as cyclonically untamed maelstroms
perpetuated the canvas of the panoramic valley,
The cry of the nightingale was melodiously enchanting;
although it blended with the aisles of nothingness
after a while; as the triumphantly trumpeting
elephants insatiably marauded the meadows; left; right
and rampant center,
The cry of the gloriously unflinching warrior was
supremely ecstatic; although it coalesced with
threadbare mud in an ethereal instant; as an
unsurpassably unending tirade of pugnacious bombs;
brutally plummeted upon him from the enemy camp,
The cry of the waterfalls was harmoniously enchanting;
although it dried up as quickly as flashes of
lightening thunder; as the tyranny of the
acrimoniously sweltering day evaporated every bit of
it; into wisps of obsoletely disappearing oblivion,
The cry of the bee was boisterously swarming; although
it soon mellowed to an inconspicuous trace of its
original self; as the scent of the magnanimously
everlasting lotus unconquerably enshrouded everything
above hard ground,
The cry of the seductress was ebulliently tantalizing;
although it disappeared into the ingredients of
nothingness like a trice of a bullet; as the silken
magic of the titillating night soon gave way to the
hideously monotonous day,
The cry of the clocktower was stringently meticulous;
although it quickly subsided into a corpse of morbid
meaninglessness; as the lanky arm struck past the
wonderfully reverberating hour,
The cry of the rainbow was resplendently vivacious;
although it fleetingly hid in its shell of sequestered
oblivion; as the blanket of poignantly crimson clouds
soon took a insurmountably bountiful grip of the
fathomless sky,
The cry of the dewdrops was beautifully exhilarating;
although it pathetically evaporated into bits of open
space; as soon as the Sun blazed to its domineeringly
profound radiance in the boundless sky,
The cry of the leaves was mystically seductive;
although it transformed into a diminutively subdued
mellow; as the victoriously advancing gusty wind now
became a song of charismatic love,
The cry of the newly born was Omnisciently effusive;
although it became a fugitive impression of its
ownself; as the years advanced and the web of
inevitably insidious commercialism took disgusting
control,
The cry of the brain was fantastically unfathomable
and incessantly exploring; although it transited into
an inferno of lackadaisical disparagement; as the
savagery of uncouth society salaciously overpowered
every intricate arena of survival,
The cry of the conscience was irrefutably honest;
although it sporadically manipulated itself every now
and again; as existence was of the most
quintessentially paramount importance amidst the pack
of satanically lecherous wolves,
The cry of breath was charismatically sensuous;
although it veritably finished in limited amounts of
unfurling time; as the strokes of destiny eventually
had their unavoidably final say,
But the cry of the heart was immortally unassailable;
come what may; passionately shuddering even centuries
immemorial after wholesome diminishing of the bodily
form; perpetually uniting with God’s most pricelessly
Omnipotent beats of love….
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: sky poems, rainbow poems, destiny poems, magic poems, ocean poems, heart poems, sun poems, song poems, wind poems
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764.
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The darker side and the brighter aspect
The darker side of blindness was an unrelenting
camouflage of austere black,
while brighter aspect of the same was a sensitive
tuning of the hollow ear
drum.
The darker side of a wounded bruise was gushing
streams of blood flowing,
while brighter aspect of the same; was firm resilience
to anguish and pain.
The darker side of the ocean was drowning to death,
while brighter aspect of the same was; a cluster of
striped fish swimming.
The darker side of squashed vegetable was clouds of
insidious stench
emanating,
while brighter aspect of the same was blissful manure
for an artillery of dead
shrub.
The darker side of a computer was a total entropy of
handwriting,
while brighter aspect of the same was crisp outlines
of calligraphy ornately
printed.
The darker side of the twin horned cow was that it was
fat and
indolent,
while brighter aspect of the same was that it suckled
gallons of fresh milk.
The darker side of the sun was acrimonious rays
cauterizing tender patches of
skin,
while brighter aspect of the same was complete
fumigation of the water logged
environment.
The darker side of a candy chocolate was a plethora of
cavities in mouth
palette,
while brighter aspect of the same was waves of
felicity submerging a person in
euphoria.
The darker side of moon was that it diffused feeble
beams of opalescent
light,
while brighter aspect of the same was that it
illuminated gruesome darkness
with rays of hope.
The darker side of residing in a jungle was immense
fear of savage beasts,
while brighter aspect of the same was bathing in
crystal waters of the virgin
river.
The darker side of being a dog was being treated with
loads of contempt and
malice,
while brighter aspect of the same was ferociously
growling canine teeth at
strangers.
The darker side of death was traumatic pain and
tumultuous sorrow,
while brighter aspect of the same was to give someone
a chance to live.
The darker side of love was infinite perils lurking in
the society,
while the brighter aspect of the same was relishing
the feeling of being
cared.
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: candy poems, chocolate poems, swimming poems, fish poems, dog poems, pain poems, ocean poems, river poems, sorrow poems, death poems, moon poems, water poems, fear poems, hope poems, sun poems, light poems, fishing poems
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