Sharp Scissors Poem by Nikhil Parekh

I used to cut thick strands of the abysmally long rope; bifurcating it into commensurate halves,
Then use the same in hoisting out bulky loads from the sequestered well; fetch
water from the river standing on top of the lanky mountain.

I used it to adroitly scrape blotches of disdainful mud adhering to my shoe; evacuate the debris from inside the soles,
So when I wore my disheveled footwear the next time out; it appeared profoundly scintillating under the fiery body of Sun.

I used it to scrupulously tear pieces of gaudy cloth into thin strips; vibrantly displaying a host of vivid colors,
Then stuck them into my straw brimmed hat; wore a strap of snake leather; to
resemble the perfect cowboy.

I used to ruthlessly rip apart through pudgy chunks of plush upholstery; brutally extricating the sponge out,
In my frantic search for finding the missing jewels; apprehending the scores of nefarious criminals.

I used it to poke my beloved in the soft cartilage of her ribs; hovering it in the vicinity of her ear like a petulant mosquito,
Only to hear her anguished rebuking; the deliberately cold meals she served me for nocturnal supper.

I used it to tenaciously dig the fresh mounds of mud; making a plethora of inconspicuous holes in proximity of the plants,
Facilitating their accelerated growth; providing them with augmented space
to breathe.

I used it to spread the golden smear of butter on my morning bread; coherently
applying jam to my succulent fruit,
Thereafter Relishing my meal immensely; with sporadic beams of light falling
in shimmering pools on my dreary eyes.

I used it to frivolously prick inflated balloons; inserting it with meticulous
precision in their protuberant body,
Tremendously enjoyed the thunderous bang; the monstrous reverberations that
besieged the atmosphere as an inevitable aftermath.

I even used it sometimes as a substitute to my pen; dipping it extravagantly
in a bottle replete with blue blooded ink,
However it floundered to achieve the required proficiency; and it was an apathy to view the mangled lines of literature that I had scribbled on the finely
agglutinated paper.

But one thing was for sure; and I know all of you would ubiquitously agree with the same,
My pair of sharp scissors served me the best when I used it to trim the
unruly hair inhabiting my scalp; the deplorable strands of moustache waywardly
drooping down my chin,
Astoundingly transforming my demeanor from that of a bushy demon; to that of an impeccable God.