Quotes about robust, page 18
Riddles By Dr. Swift And His Friends
FROM Venus born, thy beauty shows;
But who thy father, no man knows:
Nor can the skilful herald trace
The founder of thy ancient race;
Whether thy temper, full of fire,
Discovers Vulcan for thy sire,
The god who made Scamander boil,
And round his margin singed the soil:
(From whence, philosophers agree,
An equal power descends to thee
Whether from dreadful Mars you claim
The high descent from whence you came,
And, as a proof, show numerous scars
By fierce encounters made in wars,
Those honourable wounds you bore
From head to foot, and all before,
And still the bloody field frequent,
Familiar in each leader's tent;
Or whether, as the learn'd contend,
You from the neighbouring Gaul descend;
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poem by Jonathan Swift
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After Marriage
Before marriage she used to keep me handsomely like a
king on her lids; dancing them every now and again to
rejuvenate my overwhelmingly harried senses,
While after marriage she hardly opened her eyes; kept
sleeping like an untamed monster all day; despite the
most passionate of my appeals.
Before marriage she harbored me like the most prized
ring on her finger; scrubbing it umpteenth number of
times with the ointment of her sensuous love,
While after marriage she locked her ornament in her
dilapidated rusty safe; leaving me in the realms of
obsolete oblivion to contend with the dust and demons.
Before marriage she possessed me like a cherished rose
in vase of her heart; harnessing me with the crimson
blood that flowed profusely through her veins,
While after marriage she ruthlessly ripped me apart;
left me to decay with the stinking pile of garbage and
the sweeper blowing me in nonchalant disdain; with the
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poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Dont mess with love
Don’t mess with lies; it would hedonistically
massacre you with its fangs of vindictively flagrant
prejudice,
Don’t mess with the scorpion; it would so
ballistically permeate its venomously curled tail into
your nimble flesh; that you’d never be able to raise
your hindside,
Don’t mess with the Sun; it would burn you to
infinitesimal moles of inane ash; which wouldn’t be
accepted even by the land of disastrously disappearing
oblivion,
Don’t mess with the Shark; it would pulverize every
element of your countenance to such a pulverized
chowder; that wouldn’t be visible with even the most
contemporarily high powered telescope,
Don’t mess with the avalanche; it would treacherously
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poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Without my beloved
Every wall of this house stabbed me like a million
scorpions; venomously crippling each fountain of my
exquisitely bountiful thought,
Every stair of this house made me stagger like a
boundless matchsticks; uncouthly pulverizing me at
every step; for ostensibly no fault of mine,
Every nail of this house pierced me brutally like the
corridors of hell; unrelentingly permeating deeper and
deeper into my satiny flesh; playing a sadistically
gory game with my disastrously wailing nerves,
Every space of this house devilishly stared at me for
times immemorial; savagely lambasting every cranny of
my drearily wasting persona; with remorsefully satanic
morbidity,
Every picture of this house thrashed me unsparingly
like a salaciously ghoulish ghost; vindictively
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poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Founders Of Great Empires Or Jesus Christ?
What is the defining difference
between founders of supposedly
great empires and Jesus Christ?
Alexander pure will lion strength light skin
blond hair with one eye dark as pitch night
one melting blue as sweeping horizon sky
a sweet natural fragrance born in his body
so strong smelling it perfumed his clothes
illuminating action glory not pleasure wealth
burning fame was intense flame his passion
Alexander the Great
a Macedonian king conquered
Ancient Greece, Persia, Egypt
conquered into western India feared
by a whole civilized known world
driven by a supposedly
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Today-the most cursed day
Ordinarily the soles of my feet didn’t bleed an
infinitesimal trifle; even as I traversed over a
blanket of a billion acrimoniously venomous thorns,
But today; the 3rd of April; they just disdainfully
crumbled an infinite feet beneath soil; as the sound
of your invincibly triumphant and gloriously
impeccable footsteps; had disappeared forever from the
horizons of my veritable sight…
Ordinarily the hair on my skin didn’t relent an
inconspicuous iota; even as the most diabolical of
dinosaurs and war; indiscriminately paraded around my
persona,
But today; the 3rd of April; they just shriveled into
pathetic oblivion at the tiniest insinuation of
flaccid wind; as your uninhibitedly untamed valley of
sensuousness; had disappeared forever from the
horizons of my veritable sight…
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poem by Nikhil Parekh
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The Garden
Wading past the threshold...
I step outside
to rejoin the earth...
make up for lost time....
...Knolls and Hillocks rolling out...
royal carriages of robust... opulent green...
...Carpet of lush verdant velvet sprawling
...far as the eye can see!
Phantom tundra thundering silently overhead...
great grey ivory glaciers floating through the arctic azure sky!
Frothy cascade of cumulo-cotton blanketing halcyon-blue horizon!
Engulfed by the floral bounty,
I feel a shift at the core of my being!
Aplomb! ... Agog! ...gadding about,
I traipse along the cobble stone.
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poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Grey(A Sad Tale)
I tell a tale I know not, of a dame I knew not, whom like me they know not, in an age we were known not.
It was many, many a year ago that a young lass lived whom ye may know by the name of Jasmine Désolé. She lived with no other thought but to love and be loved in return. Sadly, this was not the case of her life, nor the purpose of her miserable existence. Though at the time she thought she was born by love to love and be loved. In no time, a cynic emerged as life viewed through a prism reflected an iridescence of ugly greys. In a kingdom called MIND, she was queen and king the same, the world was mean, her mind kinder. So for the rest of her days she lived in her head. She had no friends. And though a beauty, no lover. Her first kiss opened her to an array of creatures called MEN. But as each frog turned into a prince, they fled the scene as with the speed of lightning being chased by sound. Jasmine was opened and welcomed to a palace called SADNESS whose chef was named DEPRESSION. She ate and ate and in no time, she was robust and drowning in a river anciently known as LONELINESS. Time built her a tunnel and all her massively wrong choices shut its door. Sitting on the floor sobbing quietly to her maker many, many a year before this year, Jasmine pondered on why life was so meaningless to her and why at no point had the lines fallen unto her in pleasant places. She felt like a fish outside water; death being water and life the shore. It marked the beginning of ten or most likely more attempts to exit earth. After each attempt she dusted her feet and saw life as a rainbow. In few months, the novelty wore off and life went back to normal - grey. She ran from home when she fell short of their expectation to a land in which she knew no one nor anyone her and when she finally returned home to a family with adjusted expectations, she ran again to a different land with the same tale. Sadness had filled her soul and her eyes were the only window of escape.
If you ever see Jasmine Désolé in the world unnamed, you will know her by her big large brown eyes which bookmark sorrow. These eyes once browsed across a threnody by a great poet and rained heavily at the words:
'Was there no star that could be sent,
No watcher in the firmament,
No angel from the countless host
That loiters round the crystal coast,
Could stoop to heal that only child'. She had the heart of a child and often wondered why God had never stooped to help her. On this one fateful day however, she sat on her balcony, stared into her past and all she had ever been. She thought for hours. Then drugged herself to kick the bucket. And for the next five days, the bucket lay stone cold. Her mum held her cold feet as she lay motionless on the hospital bed and with a hundred teardrops prayed. Two thousand hands of a thousand angels tried to resuscitate her. Four thousand teardrops of the thousand angels kept her body warm. On the fifth day she came back to life with the breath of God and a phrase that said: 'This isn't everything you are.'
Days and months and years went by, all acquaintances had become strangers, 'possibilities' made nothing. And on one busy day, noise gave way to silence as she declared 'I DO NOT BELIEVE IN GOD'. An extremist by all makings she was, as she swung from full faith in God to utter disbelief in his ability. God had smiled but frayed her days. She was a light to others but knew it not, the light she shone on others cast a shadow on her own life. If tears were a trophy she'd have a fountain. If life were a choice, she'd choose death over and over again. Nothing worked nor made sense. She wished she knew, at any point knew, how life should be lived. She sought not love anymore, neither knew how to. Aches and pains and loneliness and regrets and all her baggages transmogrified into one giant molten scar known as her. No more hopes, no more dreams. She strolled through earth, to fulfill her days, having but one hope and one only. That one day in her walk through the world, she'd stumble into a garden that was bursting into life. On her tombstone it was written: 'One thing lingers, love remains love. And if ever you're unsure, just remember, God remains God'. As all whose lives her light had touched gathered in their thousands, it rained and poured. All stood still and cried and poured. Tears and rain, her journey's tale. Many and many a time had she walked in the rain and cried with it. She loved rain, she loved God, she loved...
I write a tale I know not, of a dame who knew me not, whom like me they know not, in an age we are not known.
It was many, many a year ago that a young lass lived whom ye may know by the name of Jasmine Désolé.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Tsunami Aftermath-Lividly living corpse
Their countless tears did definitely fill an ocean all right; but it was an ocean of unprecedented misery; with the wrath of the inexplicably crippling disaster transforming every trace of robust innocence into a mortuary of stinking death,
Their countless tears did definitely fill an ocean all right; but it was an ocean of hapless uncertainty; as boundless number of impeccable heads stared in distraught disbelief; for relentless hours towards empty sky,
Their countless tears did definitely fill an ocean all right; but it was an ocean of morbid blood; from which emanated the stench of pricelessly inimitable honesty hopelessly blended with the diabolical devil,
Their countless tears did definitely fill an ocean all right; but it was an ocean of unceasing sadness; in which perpetually floated innumerable lifeless bones of their enchanting siblings; children and immortal beloved,
Their countless tears did definitely fill an ocean all right; but it was an ocean of sadistic ridicule; where even the most eternally fructifying form of living kind was rendered to worthlessly lugubrious foam; salt and soap,
Their countless tears did definitely fill an ocean all right; but it was an ocean of parasitically ribald lechery; where man brutally asphyxiated his counterpart man; in an eventual bid to frenetically survive,
Their countless tears did definitely fill an ocean all right; but it was an ocean of cannibalistic hatred; from which spawned only the corridors of devilish hell; diffusing pain; pain and only intolerably inconsolable pain,
Their countless tears did definitely fill an ocean all right; but it was an ocean of bizarrely tawdry helplessness; where they were reduced to just infinitesimal frigid eunuchs; not able to do anything as the wave gobbled every trace of their celestial happiness,
Their countless tears did definitely fill an ocean all right; but it was an ocean of frenzied deliriousness; which apocalyptically shrieked the cry of ultimate extinction; the wholesome disappearance of this symbiotic planet from the map of this bountifully redolent Universe,
Their countless tears did definitely fill an ocean all right; but it was an ocean of unceasing remorsefulness; with the coffins of satanic oblivion ghoulishly transcending every conceivable happening in the atmosphere,
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poem by Nikhil Parekh
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The greatest sin
Having supremely spell binding eyes was simply not a sin at all; but
pretending that you were gruesomely blind; unable to see a step
further even after possessing them right since innocent childhood;
was the greatest sin,
Having robust complexioned feet was simply not a sin at all; but
pretending that you couldn't walk even an inch forward; had not the
slightest of capacity to run even after possessing them right since
innocent childhood; was the greatest sin,
Having tenaciously knotted fingers projecting from the palm was
simply not a sin at all; but pretending that you had grave difficulty
in hoisting objects; didn't posses the most minuscule of power to
defend yourself even after possessing them right since innocent
childhood; was the greatest sin,
Having dangling earlobes delectably cascading from the periphery of
your rubicund cheek was simply not a sin at all; but pretending that
you couldn't bear the tiniest of sound; floundered miserably to
decipher the intricacy of voice even after possessing them right
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poem by Nikhil Parekh
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