Hide and Seek - part 8 - Rhyming & Non Rhyming Poems Read online

under the gorgeously woven exquisite quilt,

  I was wholesomely illiterate since infantile birth; the only name that I ruthlessly chanted each second was yours; impatiently awaiting to savagely besiege you,

  I had remained starved since fathomless decades; feasting on only bottomless perceptions of rubicund flesh,

  I got barbarically kicked infinite times in a single day; with people washing their feet soon after with the strongest of medicinal herb; instead of depicting traces of poignant empathy, 

  I didn’t need a single penny for survival; bore the brunt of drought and flood with overwhelming equanimity on my rusty body,

  I hardly knew what day of the month it was; with a battalion of red ant and irascible termites crawling freely on my slippery hinges,

  I had a disdainfully obnoxious stench emanating from my soiled demeanor; was repugnant to whomsoever who had his eyes on my dilapidated condition,

  I stood just a few inches above the ground; always feeling overpowered by all entities who trespassed heavily through the cold ground,

  I harbored dirt and fetid filth all throughout my existence; wistfully hoping for you to stealthily pass by my side,

  And I might just appear to be an empty container of junky iron; rotting in the realms of unprecedented agony and solitary gloom,

  But mind you "Mouse"; I the "Mouse Trap" have always wanted to gobble you all my life; and once you were in my custody you little scoundrel; try as hard as you can; let even the sky come down on earth; But this time I wont let you out.

  30. WAITER COME HERE PLEASE 

   

  He served umpteenth a dish at the bark of a crisp command; with twin pair of eyes focused dead straight towards the table,

  Nimbly took a plethora of orders; from famished customers to satiate their gluttony,

  Made frequent rounds to the kitchen; conversing loquaciously with the rotund chef,

  Greeted all those who entered the hotel; with an amicably appearing congenial smile,

  Instigated his fellow counterparts; to bustle back to work; reciting to them a rustic joke,

  Scrupulously cleaned the dishes after they were rampantly used; picking up the most inconspicuous of loiter from the floor,

  Meticulously arranged the armory of crimson rose in their respective jars; made sure that all candles rose up to a handsome flame,

  Ran instantaneously to the sound of tinkling bells over the counter; glued his vision towards the screen flashing multiple items of food,

  Occasionally listened to a volley of hostile expletives from his clients; for not adhering immaculately to requirements of their taste,

  Was immensely pleased at witnessing the exorbitantly affluent; envisaging the fat tips they would bestow upon his impoverished persona,

  Shivered incessantly in the biting cold; clad in threadbare minimum of cloth to drape his demeanor,

  Voraciously sketched a battalion of faces; sitting on his bohemian stool; in his spare time,

  Swayed articulately to beats of pulsating music at intermittent intervals; to reinvigorate his dreary passengers,

  Hoisted innocuous toddlers high in the air; dexterously catching them single handed; to grant ailing mothers some reprieve from the tyranny of their children,

  Had gladly incorporated a list of appetizing dishes; as his daily jargon; sometimes inadvertently whispering the names of cooked items in his dreams,

  Magnificently controlled his temper; trying to avoid the most minuscule of altercation if possible,

  Worked like a clockwork machine; inexorably all throughout the monotonous day,

  Slept in a cloistered room all chilly night; profoundly detesting the next day to unveil; the nondescript rigmarole of taking orders,

  Wore a flabby cap; shielding his rubicund face; a neat tie dangling unsolicitedly from his collar,

  There were tears gushing from his eyes when I addressed him by his first name; for he was literally oblivious to all other sounds; except for that dreaded voice stringently calling him waiter come here please. 

  31. IF MY CAR COULD RUN ON PURE WATER 

   

  If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would wander thousands of kilometers in the day, 

  Driving at roaring speeds through the broad highway streets; drowned in waves of tremendous euphoria. 

  If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would stop contemplating the cost of expensive gasoline, 

  Explore every nook and cranny of the gigantic globe; would prefer to drive; every time I was overpowered with the incorrigible urge to walk. 

  If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would evacuate the monsoon rivers of their liquid, 

  Storing it surreptitiously in my colossal tank; pilfer every droplet of the solvent dribbling from the mountain springs. 

  If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would relinquish to travel by the most extravagant of aircraft, 

  Thoroughly utilizing my incredulous contraption; to transport me wherever I wanted; without the slightest pinch to my pocket. 

  If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would never feel uncouth pangs of thirst reverberate in my vocal chords, 

  As I would devour frugal mouthfuls of the liquid stashed in my fuel jacket; at intermittent intervals while traversing through the streets. 

  If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would make frequent visits to the gushing jungle stream, 

  Swimming rambunctiously in the same; withdrawing as much water as I could while gleefully returning. 

  If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would camouflage my automobile with coarse sheets of sprawling canvas, 

  Would impregnate it with all the amenities indispensable for life; inhabit it unrelentingly all day and night; while rolling on the roads. 

  If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would save astronomical sums of money, 

  Investing the same in diversified arenas of life; gain in insight and loads of experience while transgressing through mesmerizing parts of the world. 

  If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would get reprieve from obnoxious stench of the elixir, 

  Instead have the ravishing aroma of fresh water waft into my nostrils; encompassing my persona with waves of enchantment. 

  And if my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would sleep like a diabolical demon all night; released from the onerous tensions of ruminating over price hikes, 

  Travel all sunlit day in my luxurious caravan with my beloved in close proximity; now completely oblivious to the hour when I had last filled disdainful petrol. 

  32. MOUSTACHE 

   

  When I curled it slightly with my fingers it resembled the angular horns of the placid cow; standing up in alacrity,

  Shimmering vibrantly in the sunshine; with unruly bristles of hair protruding out rampantly from umpteenth quarters. 

  When I combed it scrupulously with a serrated brush; it settled to perfectly commensurate proportions,

  Adhering amicably to my lips; appearing as sedate as an angel having long gone off to sleep. 

  When I applied exorbitant coats of sweet honey on it; it acquired profound tinges of enchanting amber,

  There wafted a heavenly aroma into my nostrils; also a scores of irksome red ants crawled to relish the paradise. 

  When I rubbed it against the naked cheek of my beloved; it engendered a plethora of scarlet blemishes,

  She blushed heavily in consternation; and there were infinite tingling sensations impregnated all over her persona. 

  When I refrained to trim it all along the unveiling week; it proliferated untidily in clusters,

  My face now appeared like that of a passionate buffoon; and it seemed as if I had relinquished all interest in life. 

  When I breathed vigorously into it expending my lungs to full capacity; it wavered a little; disconcertingly pert
urbed by the onslaught,

  Retorted back in intense indignation; prompting me to scratch my skin till it virtually bled. 

  When I swished at it wildly with my tongue; feverishly caressing a battalion of blades in the process; it didn’t seem to mind the least,

  Stuck diligently to my flesh in an amalgamated heap; sedately slept for a few hours until the saliva dried. 

  When I rubbed it frivolously during business meetings; it seemed to have a psychological influence in calming my frayed nerves,

  Substantially eased tumultuous tension from my mind; granting me a winning edge over my adversaries. 

  When I let sweat dribble profusely into it; feebly attempting to resist the flow; it looked all the more handsome,

  With the full light of the sun accentuating its drooping periphery; and the aftermath made me feel like a real man. 

  But when I tonsured it inadvertently; completely annihilating it from my silhouette; I appeared comically distorted; with a feminine disposition inevitably descending on my demeanor,

  Although I considered myself as extremely lucky and blessed; as my moustache once again grew into bushy clusters rapidly a few days after shaving; and I thereby took a solemn pledge of never plucking it again. 

  33. MY MORTAL FRIEND’S BIRTHDAY. 

  The moment was to rejoice; to uninhibitedly forget the sorrows of a lecherously non-existent past,

  The moment was to distribute sweets and cookies of all shapes and sizes; to far and distant across the fathomless living planet,

  The moment