Mock Epic: The War Born Of A Word Poem by ashok jadhav

Sing, O Tongue, small spark of towering flame,
Of how a phrase, unguarded, softly dropped,
Unleashed a war no armies could contain,
And set kind hearts against each other's peace.
It began at noon, in calm and careless light,
When one spoke thus—too quickly, half in jest:
"Do as you wish." A phrase of modest size,
Yet armed with tones no grammar can restrain.
It fell between them like a seed of doubt,
And silence watered it with heavy rain.
The Listener heard more than had been said.
In that brief breath, contempt was clearly heard,
Dismissal sharp, impatience poorly veiled,
A verdict passed on worth and wounded pride.
The Speaker meant no blade, no bitter blow—
But meaning marched without his consent.
The Mind convened its councils through the night.
Past words arose like veterans recalled;
Old glances were recruited as fresh proof;
Each pause enlisted as deliberate scorn.
By dawn, the army of imagined wrongs
Stood ranked and ready, banners stitched with hurt.
Messages were sent—precise, polite,
Yet sharpened underneath with icy steel.
Replies returned, defensive, brief, exact,
Each word inspected, weighed, and misaligned.
Allies were summoned—friends, the trusted few—
Who chose their sides with nods and knowing sighs.
Thus grew the war: long sighs and sudden storms,
Doors closed with force, then opened not at all.
Peace treaties drafted late and torn by pride.
And all the while the cause lay small and still,
A phrase now tired, misunderstood, alone.
At last Truth came, exhausted, plain, and late:
"I meant no harm." She spoke, and war grew weak.
The armies fell, embarrassed by their size.
So learn this epic truth, O Reader wise:
The greatest wars are often born of nothing.