Nikhil Parekh

Gold Star - 6,248 Points (27/08/1977 / Dehradun, India)

Table Salt - Poem by Nikhil Parekh

When I rolled ravenously in it; inscribing incoherent patterns in the powder
with my big toe,
It stuck to innumerable pores of my tender skin; poignantly tickling every part of my body.

When I smeared a parsimonious amount of it on my tongue; the taste buds
instantly stood up; as if after a marathon period of prolonged rest,
My throat cried for water soon after; to pacify its inevitable thirst.

When I sprinkled it gently in the drifting breeze; it rose high and handsome in the atmosphere; adhering to the crisp tree leaves,
While some part of it descended down painstakingly; causing my eyes to profusely water as it barged in forcefully.

When I blended it with pure water; vigorously stirring the concoction till it spewed bubbles of sparkling froth,
The elixir produced was wholesomely spicy to drink; and I washed my mouth scrupulously clean; after consuming a few sips.

When I rubbed it fervently against the periphery of succulent fruit; completely engulfing the same with its surplus fillings,
The berry remained as fresh as ever even after several weeks had elapsed; unperturbed by the onslaught of deleterious insects.

When mixed it with the chocolate brown soil; it acquired evanescent tinges of cream,
The mud now looked far more enticing; with streaks of impeccable white clearly accentuated.

When I heated it on the stove to form a composite bar of soap; it willingly underwent the metamorphosis,
And I felt hot fumes emanating from my persona; when I took bath with it.

When I hurled it mischievously at passing pedestrians; they were partially
perplexed by my uncanny behavior,
Their initial anger soon converted into intense indignation; as they were left scratching their flesh raw till it bled.

When I dissolved colossal pints of it in the fathomless ocean; it was supremely grateful,
Thanking me from its heart for submerging it back; in the place it actually belonged to.

And eventually when I added frugal pinches of it in my food; my supper transited to the tastiest of all times,
With commensurate proportions of sweetness and spice; overwhelmingly gratifying the pangs of hunger in my stomach,
It was now that my bottle of table salt had served me to its absolute best;
had indeed embodied lots of color to my spiceless life

Topic(s) of this poem: salt


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, January 6, 2016

Poem Edited: Saturday, February 27, 2016


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