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Best Poems From
NIKHIL PAREKH
(27/08/1977)
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1797.
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The power of Omnipotent mud
You might ferociously abuse it for being monotonously
threadbare; disdainfully infiltrating the whites of
your eye; with the truculently blowing winds,
You might indignantly kick at it in your times of
inexplicable frustration; at times profusely wounding
it with the uncouthly cold-blooded tip; of your
spurious shoes,
You might heinously spit on its shades of
compassionate brown; barbarically trampling it left
right and center; to insanely diffuse the abominable
tensions circumventing your brain,
You might place its value as capriciously invidious
specks of grit and stone; hardly ever casting even the
most fugitive of glance towards its poignantly amiable
periphery,
But remember; irrespective of your caste; creed;
color; blood or race; you all will inevitably blend
with its sacrosanct belly after abnegating your last
breath; such was the power of unassailably Omnipotent
and bountiful mud
..
1
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You might ominously abhor the fact that it lay abreast
your dwelling; proving a remorsefully indigent
mismatch to your pillars and porch of stupendously
embellished gold,
You might acridly puke out your food in utterly
shocking disbelief; on the pretentiously worthless
pretext of it harboring ungainly dust,
You might treacherously stab it with unrelentingly
salacious strokes of your gleaming knife; frantically
searching for surreptitious canopies of pricelessly
glittering gold,
You might propagate it as being lugubriously
meaningless; fretfully stagnating in dustbins of
forlorn isolation for centuries unprecedented,
But remember; irrespective of your caste; creed;
color; blood or race; you all will inevitably blend
with its sacrosanct belly after abnegating your last
breath; such was the power of immortally Omniscient
and spell binding mud
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3
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You might ruthlessly mold it into fathomless sizes and
shapes; just to flex the muscles of your irascibly
blood soaked palms,
You might relentlessly castigate it for its despicably
impoverished demeanor; drive your cars like an untamed
prince over its innocuously wailing contours,
You might sleazily sell it to the most derogatorily
manipulative strangers; inundate your pockets with
scintillating silver; while bulldozers tyrannically
razed it to construct edifices that sailed haughtily
towards blue sky,
You might lackadaisically dump all your decaying feces
from your abode into its silken carpet; laughing every
side of your body out; as you triumphantly feasted
upon its victimized integrity,
But remember; irrespective of your caste; creed;
color; blood or race; you all will inevitably blend
with its sacrosanct belly after abnegating your last
breath; such was the power of pricelessly divine and
everlasting mud
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3
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You might tirelessly ostracize its sordidly ungainly
complexion; for horrendously tainting the outlines of
your spotlessly bombastic and bohemian feet,
You might christen it as dreadfully morose and
perniciously ghoulish; as it fostered your
pathetically wavering shadow even in the most
brilliantly sparkling Sun,
You might at times construe it as your worst enemy; as
its unwitting undulations made you disastrously
stumble and kiss a world of despondently diminutive
dirt,
You might call it blasphemously adulterated; as
organisms of all shapes and fraternities; perpetually
embraced its rudimentarily scented skin,
But remember; irrespective of your caste; creed;
color; blood or race; you all will inevitably blend
with its sacrosanct belly after abnegating your last
breath; such was the power of impregnably Omnipresent
and humanitarian mud
.
ฉฎcopyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. All rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: remember poems, power poems, isolation poems, food poems, silver poems, kiss poems, sky poems, sun poems, wind poems
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1798.
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The Punch
When I punched a bag replete with mud; overflowing to the brim with bountiful food grain,
There flew tones of dust in the still air; of which some settled in my nose; partially obscuring my vision.
When I punched an inflated balloon in its midriff; infinite molecules of gas escaped in fury,
There was an obstreperous sound produced; which almost ripped apart intricate arenas of my eardrum.
When I punched the colossal sized melon with my fists; the shell broke open into incommensurate halves,
A myriad of fleshy splinters flew everywhere in the air; and the slimy juice languidly cascaded down my immaculate face.
When I punched the solid baked brick; exerting tumultuous pressure against its navel,
Shards of disdainful concrete entered my crystalline eye; alongwith a series of fracture that enveloped my knuckle.
When I punched the heavyweight champion in the solar plexus; there was a conglomerate of fetid sweat droplets that stung me with alacrity,
His esteem got thoroughly provoked and he pulverized me to dust displaying his overpowering brawn.
When I punched biscuits of pure gold; glittering impeccably in the enchanting moonshine,
My fingers acquired faint tinges of yellow; and I profoundly regretted the wastage that I had produced.
When I punched the venomous reptile that hung from the tree; trying to frivolously fondle with its skin,
The monster bared its fangs in vindication; hissing vociferously and eventually inserting its deadly poison in my flesh.
When I punched the assembly of scintillating mirror; it diffused into a myriad of minuscule fragments,
My reflection now appeared comically distorted; and droplets of crimson blood oozed from my palms as an aftermath.
When I punched the power horn in the truck; applying unrelenting pressure from my wrists,
There was a deafening noise that was produced; instantly overpowering the natural ethos prevailing in the atmosphere.
And finally when I punched my heart; using the full power of my hands,
There echoed only once voice; there seemed only once face; and there seemed only one god; and all of them were my mesmerizing beloved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: concrete poems, power poems, mirror poems, food poems, tree poems
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1799.
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The rainbow of love
It was as ravishing; as the black bear trampling
indiscreetly through the
dense foliage of the jungle,
Humming incoherent tunes in a poignantly husky; while
in its quest for
concealed prey.
It was as scintillating; as the crystal blue patches
of the pellucid sky,
Which basked in overwhelming joy; when caressed by
stringent rays of the
magnificent sun.
It was as fertile; as the lush green tendrils of
spongy grass,
Which spread like wild fire in pelting showers of
rain; danced vibrantly to
tunes of music and air.
It was as voluptuous; as the ornately embellished pink
petals of lotus,
Blossoming perennially when their counterparts died;
impregnating venomous
beetles in their womb.
It was as opulent; as the yellow biscuits of pure
gold,
Which retained their color even at unfathomable depths
beneath soil; could
purchase all the tangible existing on earth.
It was as immaculate; as white pearls incarcerated in
oyster shells,
Embedded since centuries immemorial in the sea; having
the mystical prowess of
producing a sparkle in the eye.
It was as invincible; as the colossal grey silhouette
of the tropical
elephant,
Decimating strong trees with its mighty trunk;
pulverizing small bush and ant
with its iron feet.
It was as boisterous; as the flaming red sun in the
firmament of gargantuan
sky,
Fumigating disease on earth with its acerbic rays;
imparting reprieve from
darkness to those in tribulation..
It was as flexible; as the euphoric wings of violet
butterfly,
Perching handsomely on solitary corners in the night;
flying as nimbly as an
aircraft all day.
It had incorporated in itself; minuscule tinges of all
existing color,
And It didnt fade a bit with the unveiling of time;
instead fortified to
mammoth proportions as life progressed,
O! yes, the rainbow of love was the most mesmerizing
thing to blend with; till
the time we blissfully lived.
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: butterfly poems, pink poems, rainbow poems, sky poems, music poems, sun poems, rain poems, green poems, fire poems, red poems, joy poems, sea poems, tree poems, dance poems
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1800.
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The religion of humanity-2
There was a man named john who was born a Christian; went to the
sacrosanct
church from the very first day of his life,
Scrupulously read through every page of the bible; even keeping the
same
beneath his pillow when he transited into a slumber,
Embellished his neck with a chrome tipped cross; the holy silhouette of
Jesus
embedded to perfection,
Although the blood that flowed through his veins was crimson red like
his
counterpart mates; and the tones of air that he expunged from his nose
when he
respired was no different than any human inhabiting the globe.
There was a man named Rahim who was born an Arab; diligently visited
the
shimmering mosque every Friday,
Refrained to close his eyes at night without sedulously reciting his
prayers;
chanting the name of his god umpteenth times in a single day,
Browsed through intricate lines of the Quran-e-Sharif with nonchalant
ease;
keeping a photo of his god safely incarcerated in his wallet,
Although the color of his lips was same as that of his siblings in
America;
and the sweat that dribbled down his nape was no different than any
human
residing on this earth.
There was a man named tai-chi who was born a Chinese; spoke profoundly
in a
pure native dialect,
Fervently worshipped all the oriental gods; a plethora of sacerdotal
symbols
embossed on colossal and gray stone walls,
Was wholesomely oblivious to anything in the market except an ensemble
of
authentic sea food; incessantly danced to stridently rustic folk tunes,
Although the texture of his pudgy lips was as soft as his friends in
the
United Kingdom; and the whites of his eye was no different than any
human
transgressing through the world.
There was a man named Ram who was born an Indian; commenced each of his
morning clambering steps of the divine temple,
Could narrate marathon passages from the Bhagwad Gita like the back of
his
palm; keeping it perennially wound to his chest,
Conversed in eloquent hindi; profusely remembering his god before
undertaking
any activity in his life,
Although there was an insatiable urge to expurgate his bowels like his
fellow
beings in the Antarctica; and the conglomerate of bones in his body was
no
different than any human traversing on the soil of this boundless land.
Why was it that these men had common characteristics; despite of them
believing in different gods,
Despite of them residing in varied countries; unfathomable kilometers
of
distance separating them,
Barricades of language bifurcating them; colors of the skin
indiscriminately
discriminating them,
Well the answer to this is as simple as the wail of a newly born child;
for
all of them were perpetually bound by the 'RELIGION OF HUMANITY'.
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: america poems, food poems, god poems, child poems, red poems, sea poems, wind poems, remember poems, friend poems, children poems, dance poems, believe poems
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