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Best Poems From
NIKHIL PAREKH
(27/08/1977)
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1993.
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Was it his fault?
Was it his fault; that he was born horrendously blind;
witnessing nothing but remorsefully crippling
darkness; since the very first cry of innocuous birth
?
Was it his fault; that he was born gruesomely maimed;
deplorably staggering into a valley of insipid
nothingness; never able to confront the Sun face-on?
Was it his fault; that he was born preposterously
deaf; unknowingly smiling towards the graveyards of
extinction; while his tortured kin shouted their
voices hoarse; for instantaneous help?
Was it his fault; that he was born with abhorrent
mental disorders; remaining as stoical as a decaying
leaf; even though the planet abreast him unfurled into
an unfathomable entrenchment of panoramically blissful
newness?
Was it his fault; that he was born disdainfully dumb;
not able to express even the most poignantly
fulminating of his desires; as unsurpassable rivers of
priceless blood rolled down his nimble cheeks?
Was it his fault; that he was born treacherously
orphaned; with the most fantastic days of his
childhood being evolved in the realms of the fetidly
threadbare dustbin; while children of his age floated
through castles of celestial honey?
Was it his fault; that he was born ludicrously jointed
at the skull with his twin brother; with every minute
of resplendent life feeling more lecherously sordid
than the coffins of death; as he winced every moment
in agonizingly traumatized pain?
Was it his fault; that he was born with disastrously
proliferating tumor in his head; an untamed volcano of
misery that kept augmenting more thunderously than
white lightening in sky; even as toddlers of his age
relentlessly embraced the clouds of uncontrollable
euphoria?
Was it his fault; that he was born in the gutters of
abominable poverty; with all that he ever got to
devour being infinitesimal left overs of bread; that
the dogs of the rich had abysmally abandoned?
Was it his fault; that he was born to a bawdily
adulterated father; who fed him insurmountable
waterfalls of venomous wine; everytime that he
demanded for immaculately sacrosanct milk?
Was it his fault; that he was born ridiculously
stammering; pathetically stuttering at each word he
attempted to speak; while others of his age;
melodiously blended with all spell-bindingly
enchanting rhyme?
Was it his fault; that the was born worthlessly
lynched; being enshrouded by a ghastly incapability of
not procreating his progeny; while the planet
astoundingly culminated into a boundless shades of
colors outside?
Was it his fault; that he was born inconspicuously
midget; mushrooming into only size of a pea at
adulthood; while infinite of his compatriots stood as
tall as the invincible mountain chimes?
Was it his fault; that he was born as black as
feckless charcoal; with even the most flamboyantly
scintillating mirrors; gorily shattering into
invisible ash; at even the most capricious of his
reflection?
Was it his fault; that he was born with the voice of
cacophonic crow; with even the most tenaciously
Herculean of entities preferring to die; rather than
listen to the tunes which emanated form his
incongruous throat?
Was it his fault; that he was born dolorously
hunchbacked; assiduously struggling with the weight of
his lackadaisically doubled body; while even the
criminally blood sucking vultures had been endowed a
right to uninhibitedly fly in the fathomless sky?
O! Yes; But it was certainly his fault to be born
amidst you all; because you were the ones who made him
tirelessly realize that he was brutally deprived;
although you possessed all of the above;
You were the ones who not only languished in the
aisles of catigatingly castrated malice; who not only
cribbed and cried even after being gifted with such a
wonderful birth; who not only jeered at the
inevitabilities of mesmerizing creation; but
sardonically ensured that there cropped countless more
of his kind….
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: birth poems, poverty poems, childhood poems, brother poems, sky poems, father poems, children poems, pain poems, death poems, sun poems, smile poems, river poems, dog poems, child poems
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1994.
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Was it my fault?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every droplet of my euphorically mesmerizing sweat; and she on the other hand torturously evaporated every ounce of happiness from my life; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every of my celestially euphoric smiles; and she on the other hand made me unjustly cry a countless tears of murderous hell; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every stream of my quintessentially life-bestowing blood; and she on the other hand inhumanitarianly buried me under a fathomless graveyard of her meaningless deliriousness; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every triumphantly rhapsodic fantasy of mine; and she on the other hand metamorphosed every treasured moment of mine into the most diabolically asphyxiating of nightmare; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every ingredient of my untamed sensuality; and she on the other hand heartlessly castrated me of all my virility and vitality; right in the center of the boisterous street; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every of my pricelessly untainted adventure; and she on the other hand devilishly incarcerated me in the prisons of her hedonistic sadism; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every of my inimitably seductive whisper; and she on the other hand yelled a boundless volley of abuses at me for no ostensible reason or rhyme; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every element of my altruistically infallible philanthropism; and she on the other hand criminally cremated the last bone of my spine alive; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every of my royally resplendent destiny line; and she on the other hand made me sacrilegiously beg on the sordidly deplorable and orphaned streets; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every line of my perennially compassionate poetry; and she on the other hand blew me away like an obliviously fictitious speck in her spuriously lecherous cigar smoke; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every poignantly enthralling sound that I heard; and she on the other hand truculently numbed each of my senses with her unrelentingly tyrannical wickedness; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every benevolent word that I uttered; and she on the other hand venomously snapped my tongue into an innumerable halves as I was solely praising her; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every molecule of my peerlessly invincible strength; and she on the other hand guffawed her heart out after insouciantly excoriating my hide and feeding it to stray pigs; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every timelessly reinvigorated goose-bump on my flesh; and she on the other hand maniacally dumped me under the most robotically fetid of junkyards; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every artistic fragrance that radiated from my nerves; and she on the other hand ruthlessly trounced and kicked me through the corpses of devastating prejudice; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every ray of my truthfully emollient soul; and she on the other hand mercilessly torched every pore of my body with the disparaging hell of lies; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every vein of my pricelessly undefeated life; and she on the other hand left me to cadaverously shudder and die; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every of my unconquerably iridescent breath; and she on the other hand gave me the most worthlessly despicable death at her very own hands; even an infinite years after we got married?
And was it my fault that I loved her more than I could have ever loved every beat of my passionately immortal heart; and she on the other hand smooched and mated for times immemorial with another man right infront of my own eyes; even an infinite years after we got married?
©®copyright-2005, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
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1995.
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Washing Tank
Crisp cotton shirt had developed stains of spilled
coffee,
parallel velvet tie was coated with grease,
white spun vests resembled coal tar dustcloth,
flower embossed handkerchief smelt like rotten fish,
massive piles of square bedsheet showed blotches of
saffron oil,
a heap of bandages contained liquefied yellow pus,
wrinkle free trousers had fresh traces of sea mud,
infinite pair of woolen socks lay like decayed brown,
triangular head caps were submerged in streaks of
violet sweat,
plush upholstery covers showed smudges of wet muddy
feet,
the colossal mansion was in a complete mess,
with dirt converging in animosity on every visible
piece of clean cloth.
i took bulky amounts of carbolic powder,
several tablets of rough textured soap,
compact biscuits of chemically charged detergent,
blended the concoction of soap and powder granule,
in a deep tank containing crystal ground water,
stirred elastic walls of the solvent with a wooden
bat,
creating gargantuan amount of pungent soapy froth,
dissolved the tonnes of soiled dirt cloth,
way down in the dark slimy interiors of my ever
reliable hexagonal 'WASHING
TANK'
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: fish poems, flower poems, water poems, sea poems, dark poems, fishing poems
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1996.
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We aren't afraid
We aren’t afraid of the treacherous mountains; infact
keep them in our back side pockets,
We aren’t afraid of the freezing winds; infact
sheltered them in a solitary whisker of our profusely
poignant moustache,
We aren’t afraid of the lethal bullets flying
horrendously around; infact we face them with our
chests escalating unflinchingly and handsome towards
the azure sky,
We aren’t afraid of the acrimoniously sweltering
sands; infact caress them like a prince marching
uninhibitedly towards the corridors of victory,
We aren’t afraid of overwhelming thirst; infact posses
the capacity to remain without a droplet of water; it
the situation so demands,
We aren’t afraid of mighty avalanches of snow; infact
treated them like insipid broomsticks sticking
innocuously to our valiant eyelashes,
We aren’t afraid of indiscriminate abuse; infact let
them pass like pieces of disdainful shit; from one ear
of ours to the other,
We aren’t afraid of the most ominous of crocodile;
infact carried his live skin intrepidly; with a
profound sense of equanimity on our shoulders,
We aren’t afraid of tumultuously vindictive storm;
infact inhaled its merciless winds with astronomical
ease through our fearless nostrils,
We aren’t afraid of perpetual blackness; infact stared
at it in its uncouth eye; till it wholesomely
disappeared into infinitesimal wisps of non-existent
sky,
We aren’t afraid of truckloads of blood; infact shed
it with insurmountably supreme pride; to defend the
soil on which we tread since our first cry,
We aren’t afraid of the battalion of satanic swords
gushing towards our head; infact held them like
peanuts in our palms; inscribing our names with their
tips on our belligerently barren chests,
We aren’t afraid of excruciating pain; infact smiled
indefatigably whilst in the heart of it; and till the
time our mission was blissfully accomplished,
We aren’t afraid of inexplicable spirits loitering in
the atmosphere; infact coined our own destinies; with
sweat of sweet perseverance; flowing gloriously from
our audaciously muscled shoulders,
We aren’t afraid of lecherous politics; infact blow
the manipulative leaders involved; with minuscule
draughts of our drearily languid breath,
We aren’t afraid of the most horrifically traumatic
aftermaths; infact accept them with an invincible glow
radiating resiliently from our eyes,
We aren’t afraid of sacrificing our lives at the
slightest intimation; infact ardently waited for our
chance to relinquish breath; and blend our impeccable
souls with the Almighty Creator,
We aren’t afraid of losing our loved ones; infact had
bid them adieu forever; when we plunged wholeheartedly
on our path towards irrefutable righteousness,
Just one minute; before you start thinking that we
were God’s; let me clarify that we were not; but we
definitely take unfathomable pleasure in proclaiming
ourselves to be the immortal soldiers of our
MOTHERLAND…
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: sky poems, pride poems, snow poems, water poems, pain poems, lost poems, smile poems, wind poems, soldier poems
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