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I had a fantasy to write prolifically; inundate every space of bonded
paper
with exquisite literature,
The only tools I had were my knotted fingers; a labyrinth of impeccable
tunnels in my brain; to pen down the lines; transform my dream into
tangible
reality.
I had a fantasy to clamber Mount Everest; reach its Herculean summit
suspended
in thin wisps of clouds,
The only tools I had were my strong legs; an overwhelming tenacity in
my mind
to set my foot on the coveted peak.
I had a fantasy to swim amidst the swirling waves; relish the pungent
spray of
the ocean splashing across my cheek,
The only tools I had were my muscular arms; the exhilaration in my body
propelling me to surge forward.
I had a fantasy to scratch scintillating crusts of gold; from the
mammoth
chain of underground rocks,
The only tools I had were my incongruously extruding nails; the
pertinence in
my persona to keep peeling; till I found that incorrigible glow.
I had a fantasy to drink frosty milk; sip the unadulterated elixir with
great
relish painstakingly down my throat,
The only tools I had were my articulate fingers to extract the same
from
mother cow; alongwith a canister to fill the same as it oozed out.
I had a fantasy to smell the stupendously exotic; drown in its
fragrance for
times immemorial,
The only tools I had were the incredibly red and redolent rose; a pair
of
supremely sensitive nostrils; drawn inevitably towards the flower.
I had a fantasy to ride on the majestic lion; caress my hands nimbly
through
the beasts nape,
The only tools I had were a stick impregnated with tanned leather;
loads of
unprecedented and daunting courage enveloping my demeanor.
I had a fantasy to plummet head on from the aircraft; fly uninhibitedly
in the
galaxy of resplendent stars; before reaching the earth,
The only tools I had were conventional strings of the parachute
strapped to my
back; astronomical amounts of resilience in my countenance; to descend
like an
angel from the heavens.
I had a fantasy to voraciously read through a library of books;
profusely
blend with the history of medieval times,
The only tools I had were my insatiable ability to imbibe; crystalline
and
emphatic eyes bestowed upon me by the creator.
I had a fantasy to listen to enchanting music; drift myself wholesomely
towards the most mesmerizing and melodious tunes,
The only tools I had were insurmountable patience to wait for the
nightingale
to open its beak; hollow spaces of my eardrum to assist me grasp the
rhapsody
in the sound.
And I had fantasy to philander in the aisles of ravishing romance; burn
passionately in the flames of immortal love and desire,
The only tools I had were my mightily pounding heart; and my impeccable
yet
enchanting beloved.
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
Nikhil Parekh
Read poems about / on: romance, history, courage, angel, flower, ocean, music, rose, mother, red, dream, star, swimming
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