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Best Poems From
NIKHIL PAREKH
(27/08/1977)
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213.
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The signature of immortal love
The shadow of the palm was inevitably and of course once again; another bountifully humanitarian and innocuous palm. This shadow was unbelievably Herculean; boundlessly stretched; and indefinably elongated.
The shadow of the eyelid was inevitably and of course once again; another mischievously fluttering and blessed eyelid. This shadow was unbelievably Herculean; unbelievably stretched; and indefinably elongated.
The shadow of the ear was inevitably and of course once again; another astoundingly sensitive and immaculate ear. This shadow was unbelievably Herculean; boundlessly stretched; and indefinably elongated.
The shadow of the lip was inevitably and of course once again; another poignantly beautiful and gorgeous lip. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and indefinably elongated.
The shadow of the leg was inevitably and of course once again; another intrepidly exhilarating and galloping leg. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and indefinably elongated.
The shadow of the cheek was inevitably and of course once again; another robustly ecstatic and blushing cheek. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and indefinably elongated.
The shadow of the neck was inevitably and of course once again another symbiotically maneuvering and nubile neck. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and preposterously elongated.
The shadow of the shoulder was inevitably and of course once again another philanthropically altruistic and unflinching shoulder. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and preposterously elongated.
The shadow of the belly was inevitably and of course once again another sensuously tantalizing and virile belly. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and preposterously elongated.
The shadow of the scalp was inevitably and of course once again another indefatigably fantasizing and royal scalp. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and preposterously elongated.
The shadow of the nail was inevitably and of course once again another irascibly scratching and unabashed nail. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and preposterously elongated.
The shadow of the chest was inevitably and of course once again another bounteously sculptured and titillating chest. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and preposterously elongated.
The shadow of the tooth was inevitably and of course once again another jubilantly fortified and obdurate tooth. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and preposterously elongated.
The shadow of the spine was inevitably and of course once again another voluptuously tingling and reverberating spine. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and preposterously elongated.
The shadow of the hip was inevitably and of course once again another impeccably spongy and cushioned hip. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and preposterously elongated.
The shadow of the bone was inevitably and of course once again another impregnably fearless and tenacious bone. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and preposterously elongated.
The shadow of the Adams apple was inevitably and of course once again another triumphantly dancing and sprightly Adams apple. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and preposterously elongated.
The shadow of the nostril was inevitably and of course once again another fierily passionate and indispensable nostril. This shadow was unbelievably large; boundlessly stretched; and preposterously elongated.
Whilst the shadow of the heart was in no way and once again the passionately palpitating heart. Infact it was; is and forever would be the most Omnipotent shadow culminating on this fathomless earth; known and chanted an infinite times by one and all dead and alive; as the ultimate SIGNATURE OF IMMORTAL LOVE
..
ฉฎcopyright-2005, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: beautiful poems, dance poems
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214.
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The thing I hated the most
When I was driving my car through the meandering hills; feasting on the
panoramic view of the mystical valley,
The thing I hated the most was a incessant flurry of dense traffic;
halting
the unprecedented flow of fantasy in my mind.
When I was swimming exuberantly in frothy waves of the ocean; taking
the
sizzling rays of the sun directly on my skin,
The thing I hated the most was the onslaught of inclement weather;
compounded
with swirling waters; which made me return back to the shore.
When I was studying diligently under the gloomy night lamp; pouring
rapidly
through infinite lines of fine script,
The thing I hated the most was pertinent voices of the neighbors; the
discordant cacophony of the ticking clock.
When I was jogging across the sprawling race track; stupendously
relishing the
cool morning breeze striking my eyes,
The thing I hated the most was obnoxious wisps of smoke in the
atmosphere; and
the lace of my shoe getting entangled every now and then.
When I was painting exquisite shapes of the hill on a white canvas;
executing
vivacious strokes with my rustic brush,
The thing I hated the most was blotches of squalid dirt smudging with
the
color; pelting showers of rain prompting me to conceal my work.
When I was fervently viewing my favorite television program; with my
feet well
rested; and a festoon of fried chips lying by my side,
The thing I hated the most was violent fluctuation in voltage; which
caused
the images to ludicrously flicker
In the screen.
When I was consuming a barrel of red wine; slurping the elixir with
animated
sips of satisfaction,
The thing I hated the most was the authorities catching me red handed;
evacuating the alcohol out of me; by beating me black and blue.
When I was playing an intense game of chess; articulately maneuvering
my
pieces through the checkered squares,
The thing I hated the most was illegal moves by my opponent; which
eventually
led him to win the game.
When I was about to commence on an adventurous expedition; accompanied
by
hordes of my class mates,
The thing I hated the most was intermittent bouts of cold and fever;
which
instigated my parents to incorrigibly hold me back.
When I was earnestly praying to the almighty; with my arms crossed;
eyes
focused in tumultuous concentration,
The thing I hated the most was uncouth criminals bombarding the
vicinity;
permeating the sacrosanct ambience with ghastly sounds.
And when I was with my beloved; my face nestling passionately against
her
broad shoulder,
The thing I hated the most was orthodox society hindering our romance;
proving
a deplorable barricade in the path of our immortal love.
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: television poems, swimming poems, romance poems, red poems, weather poems, car poems, ocean poems, work poems, rain poems, sun poems, hate poems, water poems
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215.
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The tune of air
The mystic tune of melodious air,
Shimmering brightly in perennial softness,
With breaths of insatiable desire,
Like a golden harp beside me,
Flowing past my eyes; smothering all sorrows,
Entitling its presence to my skin,
With showers of silken delight to follow.
The path of air inside me,
Imprisons me with a wave of hope,
Briskly striding over a mountain of sadness,
Subsiding every iota of pain,
Enveloping my whole being in a languid manner,
Making surplus availability of exuberant thoughts,
To say goodbye to me.
That blazing rumble of soft movement,
Tickles my conscience astride,
Offering its red hot tenacity,
To the liquid of rage inside me,
Penetrating me with slow viscosity,
Determining my fate to go,
Placing me in an abysmal dilemma,
Like the dexterous string of elastic bows.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: fate poems, red poems, hope poems, pain poems, sorrow poems
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216.
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Tones
When I spoke to a child; my tone was as innocuous as the nimble and newborn rabbit,
When I spoke to the politician; my tone had profound traces of cunnigness; tinges of skillful imagination blended with each word, When I spoke to the reprimanded burglar; my tone was acrid and harsh; trying to petrify the daylights from his eyes,
When I spoke to the bartender; my tone was voluptuously surreal; demanding him to serve me with delectable pegs of scarlet wine,
When I spoke to the Boss of the Company; my tone was overwhelmingly polite and splendid; flattering him each instant to secure my job,
When I spoke to the taxi driver; my tone was rustic and wandering; instructing him to drift me deep into the hills; poignantly embrace the winds of nature,
When I spoke to the Scientist; my tone had a sea of mysticism and enigma; intriguing him with the dozens of bizarre ideas; circulating rampantly through my mind,
When I spoke to the doctor; my tone radiated with robust and rubicund health; and the air that diffused from my mouth had a piquant odor of raw antiseptic,
When I spoke to the photographer; my tone was enchanting and replete with tumultuous euphoria; enticing him to capture the most mesmerizing of my pose,
When I spoke to the insane terrorists; my tone was barbarically acrid; and I blurted out every possible abuse prevalent on the planet; vehemently condemning them for their scores of misdeeds,
When I spoke to the teacher in the school; my tone was docile and completely submissive; pretending to be a diligent student; when infact I was most mischievous of the entire batch,
When I spoke to those orphaned on the streets; my tone was sympathetic and comforting; earnestly wishing them all the prosperity that ever hung in the air,
When I spoke to the washerman; my tone was as slippery as soap; as I gave him crisp orders to annihilate the last bit of dirt adhering to my shirt,
When I spoke to the man-working deep in the mines; my tone was in the form of a reverberating echo; trying to blast into his ears the same tunes he was used to; all day and night,
When I spoke to the wildly screeching mad man; my tone was sonorous and domineering; trying to pacify all the false apprehensions; taking their toll unnecessarily on his life,
When I spoke to the dog loitering aimlessly on the streets; my tone was a hoarse bark; trying to communicate with him better; in the only language he imbibed and understood,
When I spoke to my beloved; my tone was bubbling with passion and unprecedented exhilaration; as I tried to ignite the flames of my romance; with infinite times the intensity into her persona,
When I spoke to my mother; my tone resembled the boisterous chimpanzee; totally relieved of mundane and worldly tensions,
But when I tried to speak to God; there erupted no tone of mine at all; I stood transfixed and wholesomely mute in front of his divine demeanor; with my head bent in meek obeisance; and my soul drowned in the melody of his omnipotent tone forever...
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read more: teacher poems, romance poems, school poems, dog poems, passion poems, nature poems, child poems, mother poems, sea poems, children poems, wind poems, work poems
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