Nikhil Parekh

Rookie - 488 Points (27/08/1977 / Dehradun, India)

Sometimes - Poem by Nikhil Parekh

Sometimes more tender than a new born child;
nostalgically remembering those moments when it was
just born,
Sometimes as ferocious as thunderbolts of lightening
in the sky; capsizing everyone around; in the
tumultuous agony of its insatiable desire….
Sometimes more mystical than the dungeons infinite
feet beneath obdurate soil; harboring a festoon of
secrets impossible to comprehend,
Sometimes as candid as a mirror; blurting out its
innermost of feelings like a parrot on a talking
spree….
Sometimes more colorful than the resplendent rainbow
in the cosmos; disseminating its myriad of boundless
colors to every entity on this planet,
Sometimes as dolorous as the dying soul; painstakingly
withering away towards its inevitably horrendous
grave…
Sometimes more blistering than the fulminating
volcano; casting its enchanting spell on every
philanthropic being on this globe,
Sometimes as cowardly as the worm; disappearing into
its diminutive den; as the slightest insinuation of
fading light….
Sometimes more fast than the cyclonic whirlwind;
instilling a wave of ebullient euphoria in every
pathetically diminishing body,
Sometimes as reticent as the infinitesimally silent
whisper; which even it didn't posses the capacity to
hear…..
Sometimes more fathomless than the entire richness of
this world; sharing its priceless forms with all who
badly needed it,
Sometimes as slithering miserly in the caves of
nothingness; begging for mercy; to whomsoever who came
its way….
Sometimes more invincible than the most ultimate point
of existence; sequestering the righteous from each
conceivable acrimonious storm,
Sometimes as collapsing like a pack of burnt cards;
even before the wind blew a trifle its way….
Sometimes more divinely than the Creator who evolved
it; incarcerating all the mesmerizing beauty of this
planet in its inner most core,
Sometimes as dastardly as the diabolical devil;
advancing menacingly towards the destruction of living
kind….
O! yes the HUMAN HEART, was Sometimes more passionate
than the gift called life; perpetually bonding those
who loved each other for immortal times,
While Sometimes as treacherous as the satanic
scorpion; betraying its own beats; which it once upon
a time irrefutably adored. 


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Poem Submitted: Friday, August 15, 2014



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