Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet


When I punched a bag replete with mud; overflowing to the brim with bountiful 


food grain, 


There flew tones of dust in the still air; of which some it settled on my nose; 


partially obscuring my vision.


 


When I punched an inflated balloon in its midriff; infinite molecules of gas escaped in fury, 


There was an obstreperous sound produced; which almost ripped apart intricate


arenas of my eardrum.


 


When I punched the colossal sized melon with my fists; the shell broke open


into incommensurate halves, 


A myriad of fleshy splinters flew everywhere in the air; and the slimy juice languidly cascaded down my immaculate face.


 


When I punched the solid baked brick; exerting tumultuous pressure against its navel, 


Shards of disdainful concrete entered my crystalline eye; along with a series of fracture that enveloped my knuckle.


 


When I punched the heavyweight champion in the solar plexus; there was a myriad of fetid sweat droplets that stung me with alacrity, 


His esteem got thoroughly provoked; and he pulverized me to dust displaying his overpowering brawn.


 


When I punched biscuits of pure gold; glittering impeccably in the enchanting


moonshine, 


My fingers acquired faint tinges of yellow; and I profoundly regretted the wastage 


that I had produced.


 


When I punched the venomous reptile that hung from the tree; trying to


frivolously fondle with its skin, 


The monster bared its fangs in vindication; hissing vociferously and eventually inserting its deadly poison in my flesh.


 


When I punched the assembly of scintillating mirror; it diffused into a myriad


of minuscule fragments, 


My reflection now appeared comically distorted; and droplets of crimson blood


oozed from my palms as an aftermath.


 


When I punched the power horn in the truck; applying unrelenting pressure from


my wrists, 


There was a deafening noise that was produced; instantly overpowering the


natural ethos prevailing in atmosphere.


 


And finally when I punched my heart; using the full power of my hands, 


There echoed only once voice; there seemed only one face; and there seemed


only one God; and all of them were my mesmerizing beloved.



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The Punch

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