Habits - Poem by Nikhil Parekh
The crimson grey clouds have an obsessive habit to
inundate barren regions of earth with surplus amount
of fresh water.
the washerman has a stringent habit of washing blotted
scraping tonnes of dirt with adroit strokes of wooden
the city traffic police have an impulsive habit of
waving their sticks,
cant help but do so, even when in realms of deep
the soil has a bountiful habit of giving birth to
blades of wild grass,
when fed with paltry amounts of achromatic water.
the sheep on mountains have a routine habit of walking
weave their way through interspersed regions of the
jungle leaning on one
the birds in the sky have extravagant habits of
convey the innermost of their feeling via this medium
of coherent music.
the saline waters of sea are prone to habits of
crashing against chains of
falling with a loud thud on the shore when imparted
turbulence by the moon.
the milkman has an infuriating habit of delivering
milk in wee hours of the
waking people up from domains of celestial sleep.
the dog has a noninvasive habit of barking
vociferously at strangers,
wagging its tail when jubiliant, in criss-cross
fashions dismantling the
harmony of air.
the venomous snake has lethal habits of consuming baby
injects its poison while relishing the same with
politicians worldwide have chivalrous habits of making
fail to deliver the same when floating high in webs of
striped lizards have denfensive habits of squirting
blood when attacked,
change their color with nonchalant ease to strangulate
i had an unrelenting habit of running till i found
paradise on earth,
bathe under the crystal springs of mesmerizing nature,
live in transcendental oblivion sheltered from
pragmatic realities of life.
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