44. IF ONLY I WERE GOD
if i were God,
i would put sea in land,
gold liquid in blood veins,
send rain with currency notes attached to droplets,
transform all humans to aquatic fish,
having a mermaid like disposition,
living in all equality with bundles of salt,
rebuke the sparse few, left on land,
for their plethora of misdeeds,
charging them with the highest treason,
sweeping them away like piece of dirt,
with cheap broomsticks of twined bamboo.
then there would be,
no poverty, indiscreet trampling of deprived,
no panic stricken, aggrieved , mutilated,
no innocent assaulted ,
by powerhouses of wealth and illegitimate pride,
no shivering in chilly winters,
no dying of sun strokes,
no scope for inflicted brutalism,
no supply of hazardous narcotic,
absolute prohibition of life ending liquor,
manufactured in dilapidated breweries,
complete harmony amongst all tribes in flesh,
beheading sinful chapters of mutual racism,
dulling the nerves of rampant blood shed,
elimination of traumatized anecdotes,
of premature death,
through vehicular clashes,
air, water and rail collisions,
no mammoth crowds flocking for ,
oil, petrol, gas, essential fodder for survival,
no palaces for some,
and unbaked cow dung plaster huts for others,
uprooting all kinds of glamour ,
reinforcing it with simplistic existence,
no indecent portrayal of stalwarts,
sacrificing personal lives, releasing us from jaws of captivity,
no inflation, unauthorized storage of food grain,
no urchins left like garbage,
in clammy interiors of unkempt orphanages,
i would evaporate every trace of crime,
with complete equality nestling in all quarters,
all this and a host to follow,
as i wish and pray fervently,
if only i were God.
45. IF ONLY
If only sunshine replaced gloomy nights of winter cold,
if only tufts of grass replaced barren patches of infertile land,
if only cars replaced filthy exteriors of tumbledown bus,
if only tropical juice replaced beer mugfulls of contaminated water,
if only yards of silk replaced yellow rolls of threadbare cotton,
if only compressed honey biscuits replaced hard loafs of bacterial bread,
if only petroleum extract replaced illegal sales of noxious kerosene,
if only hi-tech computers replaced quintals of school paper stationary,
if only white sparkling marble replaced unpolished fragments of cheap tile,
if only silver spoons replaced their counterpart mates engraved in thick plastic,
if only mirrors replaced morbid walls with crumbling plaster,
if only exquisite snake leather replaced large purses of inferior suede,
if only golden sodium lights replaced dim emissions of fluorescent tubes,
if only luxury air-conditioner replaced Luke warm air draughts of ceiling fan,
if only fecund soil mass replaced colossal plains of scorched sand,
if only varnished mahogany replaced plaintive sheets of ordinary wood,
if only balls of white snow replaced dry laden winds of boiling heat,
if only gold coins replaced all kinds of stone strewn on the ground,
if only affluence replaced poverty residing in all domains of the globe,
then we would seldom pray to the supreme Creator,
his quota of responsibilities thus fading into oblivion,
each of us would then transit to super gods breathing for eternity,
in a strife free world bestowed with undeserved riches
46. TRANQUIL GREEN PASTURES
Tender green tufts of emerald green sponge,
riveted firmly to fertile landscapes of earth,
dancing to sedate tunes of swashbuckling breeze,
growing at rapid paces in a blend of manure and fresh water,
feasting on nutritious rays of unadulterated sunlight,
greedily devouring tap water sprinkled at spaced intervals of time,
glowing sedately in artificial lights of sodium bulb,
submerged in ponds of placid moonshine,
a bountiful warehouse of red ant and earth worm,
the green grass meadows were a breathtaking sight,
oblivious to the vagaries of jet paced life.
Cows grazed quietly trampling the grass cushions,
Long beaked cranes nibbled at pieces of left over corn,
Wild pigs gulped loads of untreated sewage,
Petite fleshy ducks floated in tank water,
Thoroughbred horses galloped in enclosures of wire mesh,
Athletic rabbits leaped with long strides of feet,
Wide winged eagles glided harmlessly through the sky,
It all seemed set for yet another day fading,
When finally the amber ball of sun hid behind the mountain,
Encompassing the tranquil green pastures with,
Tarpaulin covers of pitch dark night.
47. HOLDING BACK
If we held back our thunderous laughter,
boisterous episodes of joy would get crucified in dungeons of sorrow,
accompanied by hysterical sobbing at times of ecstatic jubilation.
if we held back our breath for more than few seconds,
the body would feel choked and suffocated,
we would inadvertently release the same with exhilarated sighs and gasps.
if we held back saline tears from dribbling down,
we would become brutally cold to pragmatic realities of death,
would soon become insane and misfits to exist in the society.
if we held back outrageous anger from expurgating out,
outbursts of violence would strangulate our heart,
leading to imprisoned feelings of savage vindication.
if we held back our sneeze from diffusing out into frothy spray,
crusts of moist mucus would get deposited in our nostril,
causing inevitable sensations to occasionally finger our nose.
if we held back our coats of nails from growing tall,
they would forcibly find a way to flourish,
piercing through the plethora of sophisticated armory placed beside them.
if we held back our speech from making obstreperous noise,
the fleshy organ of our tongue would decay, trapped between a cluster of teeth,
dying a natural death in hollow ambience of mouth.
if we held back dazzling yellow pools of water in our bladder,
the spongy caricature of body would feel overwhelmingly restless,
the liquid would spasmodically gush out after few hours of feckless control.
if we held back unsurpassable feelings of holistic love,
there would be frugal purpose in this life to exist,
we would simply waste precious years bestowed upon us to breathe as humans.
48. AROMATIC HAIR OIL
Thick shock of jet black hair,
sprawled languidly on white domes of hard mass,
stuck to skin with offshooting pores,
sprouting from umpteenth prickly roots,
sizzle in hot rays of the Sun,
heating their periphery with flashes of fire,
scorching patches of flesh on which they stand,
with readily absorbed natural solar energy,
hairy follicles shine in radiance,
parted to high degrees of comfort,
; compressed by electric hot wind guns,
blowing air over silky strands,
shaping them to angled perfection,
with abundant supply of white allergic powder,
sliding down the black stalks,
filling virgin cavities with white plagued dust,
an obnoxious termite for the natural sheath of black,
an alien relative of disdainful proportion,
resulting in premature wearing of hair mass,
shrinking, shrivelling, withering, the most precious component,
of breathing souls ,
the only solution being,
mega sized hollow glass bottles,
tightly corked and transparent,
filled with aromatic hair oil.
49. IN ORDER TO WIPE MY SINS
In order to wipe sweat trickling down my nape; I used a large bandanna,
in order to wipe blotches of mud from my demeanor; I used a soft towel,
in order to wipe scalding tea from my shirt; I used a colossal palm leaf,
in order to wipe invincible stains of crimson betel; I used stringent antiseptic,
in order to wipe agglutinated paint from the wall; I used a blend of water and salt,
in order to wipe tons of sawdust from the pellucid glass; I used a fluffy brush of handsome cotton,
in order to wipe sumptuous grape vine from the barrel; I used my tongue,
in order to wipe oleaginous grease from live grass; I used micro thin bristles of brush,
in order to wipe disdainful sewage from earth; I used a pair of dry twigs to incinerate,
in order to wipe saline tears from her eyes; I used my strong palm,
in order to wipe immaculate chalk from the blackboard, I used a rosewood duster,
in order to wipe incongruous thorns from the mystical grave; I used a forked pickaxe,
in order to wipe blood oozing profusely from my wounds; I used a concoction
of whisky and sponge,
in order to wipe erroneous blunders in pronunciation; I used the dictionary,
in order to wipe mascara from her dainty eyes; I used my luscious red lips,
in order to wipe my bowels clean of debris; I used a well spun sanitary towel,
in order to wipe brackish footprints of my triangular feet; I used soft detergent,
in order to wipe flakes of white powder from my scalp; i vociferously used an
extract of medieval roots,
in order to wipe venomous poison from her cheek; I articulately used my teeth and withdrew,
in order to wipe moisture from sequestered interiors of my home; I made use of fumigating Sunlight,
and in order to wipe the heinous sins I committed this existing life; I took birth for infinite decades,
harnessing the void created with my precious blood
50. IN EVERY BIT OF
In every bit of white enamel engulfing teeth; there sleeps calcium,
in every bit of morbid stone; there sleeps a radiant crystal,
in every bit of green grass; there sleeps a blissful dew drop,
in every bit of scorched sand; there sleeps a penchant for rain,
in every bit of blood strewn on the floor; there sleeps tumultuous pain,
in every bit of scalp hair emanating; there sleeps white flakes of dandruff,
in every bit of time piece wound on the wrist; there sleeps hands of hour and unleashing minute,
in every bit of dazzling sun ball; there sleeps indispensable beams of stringent light,
in every bit of the century old mansion; sleeps compressed briquettes of dust,
in every bit of satiny web lingering from the wall; there sleeps an innocuous spider,
in every bit of sapphire blue sky; there sleeps an innocuous cloud,
in every bit of castor seed oil; there sleeps a ravishing fragrance,
in every bit of copious saliva; there sleeps an army of germ,
in every bit of woven gold mattress; there sleeps a royal king,
in every bit of poetic verse; there sleeps an enigmatic meaning,
in every bit of scarlet rose; there sleeps a wrinkled petal,
in every bit of pachyderm feet; sleeps polished nails of ivory,
in every bit of mother's heart; there sleeps perennial affinity,
in every bit of fiendish monster; there sleeps perpetual animosity,
and in every bit of the omniscient Creator; there sleeps magnanimous love.
The End .
Hide and Seek - part 2 - Rhyming & Non Rhyming Poems Page 7
