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Best Poems From
NIKHIL PAREKH
(27/08/1977)
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789.
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The mother and the artist
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every
unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every
unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling
instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every
unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every
unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every
unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every
unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every
unfurling instant of iridescently inscrutable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every
unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling
instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every
unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every
unfurling instant of invincibly coalescing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling
instant of robustly blessed existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbreakably Omnipotent desire; every unfurling
instant of victoriously effulgent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unceasingly reinvigorating fantasy; every
unfurling minute of poignantly charismatic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of insurmountably intrepid enchantment; every
unfurling minute of rhapsodically unhindered existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Omnisciently tranquil serenity; every unfurling
instant of endlessly bestowing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of perpetually fragrant breath; every unfurling
instant of Omnipresently benevolent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Immortally ardent love; every unfurling instant
of limitlessly fructifying existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fantastically alleviating poetry; every
unfurling instant of boundlessly splendid existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fabulously effervescent tanginess; every
unfurling instant of spiritually uplifting existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unlimitedly enlightening Sunshine; every
unfurling instant of infallibly luminescent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of immaculately godly melody; every unfurling
instant of amiably melanging existence,
Because. And Only Because. A Mother is; has and shall for times immemorial
remain the Greatest Sculptor of every organism on this astoundingly
multiplying Universe; A Mother is the Greatest Artist
.
ฉฎCOPYRIGHT-2004, BY NIKHIL PAREKH. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: children poems, child poems, mother poems, innocence poems, sunshine poems, truth poems
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790.
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The Natural bend
The leaf gorgeously parrot green in color,
Relishes flamboyant tinges of purple on its coat,
Its face tapered and jutting out,
It reveals to all its natural splendour,
Infinite lines adorn its spongy surface,
Bifurcating oblong zones of its sand paper complexion,
Its real beauty comes pouring out,
As the rainy season begins to sprout.
The beauty which is truly emphatic,
Indicates bent points on its slender persona,
Drooping down in a stingy manner,
To get a fleeting glimpse of the earth,
Which nourished it like a baby from its childhood to its present day youth,
The very earth; of which it has been an integral part for decades of existence.
It sways gently in the hot currents of breeze,
Dead eyes disclosing true facts of life,
Hold no fear; are devoid of vacillating emotion,
Leading a person to astral remnants of an ancient phase.
Its time of perennial joy never ends,
For it always shows its naturally sculptured and angular bend.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: childhood poems, baby poems, purple poems, beauty poems, green poems, joy poems, fear poems, time poems
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791.
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The night was still alive
The butter was still fresh; with adorable crusts of
cream oozing poignantly from its molten persona,
The rose was still blossoming; with its ravishing
redolence reinvigorating everything around in dull
atmosphere,
The stream was still gushing at electric speeds; with
its gurgling waters diffusing into spell binding froth
after clashing against the chain of ecstatic rocks,
The peacock was still dancing; with its feathers
spread wildly wide to a completely full and exotically
animated plumage,
The grass blades were still awake; with glistening dew
drops now enigmatically caressing their intricate
visage,
The stars still twinkled in the sky; with the
magnificent white beams of light casting a majestic
spell on the body of pathetically scorched earth,
The leaves still vibrantly rustled with the wind;
inscrutably whispering their nostalgic tales of day;
their stupendously enamoring anecdotes of the past,
The lion still roared euphorically; puncturing the
sedate ambience with an uncanny thrill that was never
experienced before,
The nightingale still sang its melodious rhymes;
captivating every tangible and intangible entity with
the fascinating melody in its sound,
The clouds still collided in the sky; pelting droplets
of rejuvenating rain in tumultuous fury,
The ducks still floated in the serene pond; fomenting
blissful ripples to spread infectiously around;
profoundly enlightening the night with their flurry of
boisterous quacks,
The chameleon still fluttered its ominous tail;
tantalizingly changing color; splendidly blending with
the surrounding it went,
The mammoth stacks of green chili were still flaming;
violently embodying the area around with a distinctly
piquant odor; a scent that could bring life into the
dead,
The Moon still shone a tenacious white; with its
creamy rays filtering a path through the stringently
dolorous darkness,
The chill still lingered pertinently; perpetuating
infinite goose-bumps to inevitably creep up the body,
The horde of impeccable rabbits still frolicked in
their burrows; playing hide and seek with the drifting
clouds and shine,
The preposterously fat python still slithered through
the marshes; furtively awaiting to gobble its prey; in
the clandestine darkness concealing his belly,
The spider still spun its web; running at astounding
speeds from one end to the other; producing
marvelously shimmering silk with its slime,
C'mon let's enjoy ourselves to the fullest O! beloved;
bask in the aisles of uninhibited desire and romance;
for the night was still young; the darkness had set
blazing fire to our senses; the night was still alive
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: romance poems, running poems, sky poems, night poems, rose poems, rain poems, moon poems, green poems, fire poems, wind poems, light poems, change poems, dance poems, star poems, water poems
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792.
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The noble citizens of tomorrow
Watch them bounce in untamed exhilaration;
boisterously clap their hands in unison as the sun
shines high in the sky,
Watch them play gleefully in the mud; coating it
uninhibitedly and with exuberant energy on their
innocent faces,
Watch them splash in the sea; munching delicious
cookies; embossing fabulous sandcastles in the foamy
and shimmering sands,
Watch them pummel each other joyfully in the ribs;
triumphantly march forward without a trace of
manipulation or fear in their impeccable eyes,
Watch them sing songs in incoherent tandem; not bound
by restraints of the monotonously conventional
society,
Watch them fantasize to unprecedented limits;
surreally swishing their chubby cheeks to a place
where the most ingenious of scientists failed to reach
even in mind-boggling inventions,
Watch them run behind their mothers back; emanate the
most mesmerizing smile ever found on this colossal
planet,
Watch them greedily gobble milk and food; make a sheer
mess of their plates and clothes as they sat with
overwhelming mischief besieging their facial contours
for nocturnal supper,
Watch them clamber up their elders without the tiniest
of embarrassment; pluck the beard of their fathers
with insurmountable naughtiness,
Watch them go to school with their laces always upside
down; crusts of innocuous dirt always dribbling down
divinely from their nose,
Watch them immaculately emulate their siblings; run
rampantly in the loose mud for their place at the
winning point,
Watch them evolve incongruous words with their pens;
fall asleep midway as if the load was the biggest to
confront on this globe,
Watch them walk upside down with their tongues poking
out in candid expression; the cotton encompassing
their diminutive bodies fluttering violently with the
winds,
Watch them incessantly cry in lap of their mother;
make the amusingly astounding gestures with their
nimble pink set of dainty jaws,
Watch them intriguingly stare at a flurry of objects
in vicinity; trying their best to decipher the meaning
of this alien world,
Watch them stumbling inadvertently as they walked;
endeavoring to solidly consolidate their intricate
footing on earth's ground,
Watch them smear ice-cream all over their robust
complexioned minuscule bodies; unwitting perceiving it
to be the bubbly family soap,
Watch them indefatigably decorate and feed their fairy
dolls; entirely oblivious to the vagaries of this
uncouthly parasitic township,
Watch them breathe and live with an ardor; that even
the most mightiest of human beings floundered to
achieve in infinite lives,
Watch them enjoy the privilege of being God's favorite
molecules; easily superceding the most unfathomable of
creations in this Universe,
And over and above all; watch these tiny angels grow
in the future decades yet to unveil; harness
handsomely and with irrefutable conviction into THE
NOBLE CITIZENS OF TOMORROW
.
ฉCOPYRIGHT-2005, BY NIKHIL PAREKH. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: fairy poems, pink poems, school poems, family poems, food poems, future poems, smile poems, mother poems, fear poems, sea poems, sky poems, sun poems, wind poems, angel poems, running poems
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