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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: March 18, 2018

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Submitted: March 18, 2018



When I banged a ball of spongy rubber on the ground; it bounced a few times with insipid fervor,
Rising a few inches from the ground; displaying a thoroughly lackluster performance.

When I threw a rotund ball of solid stone on polished floor; it bounced negligibly; producing a thunderous noise when it collided,
Unable to rise even a centimeter above the ground; languidly rolling as if about to be indiscreetly kicked.

When I released a ball of pure crystal from unprecedented heights of the edifice; it diffused into infinite splinters of acerbic powder,
There was no question of it bouncing; as it reduced to complete shambles; and the loss incurred was substantial.

When I hurled a ball of obdurate leather on the silver façade of glass; it zipped through like a fiery rocket,
Bouncing with nonchalant exuberance after striking the floor; and there was a rotten fragrance of leather that disparagingly originated.

When I banged a ball of flocculent cotton on the muddy road; it blended magnificently with the ocean of dirt,
It simply refrained to bounce; and flimsy wisps of satin flakes drifted in the air.

When I banged a ball ornately stitched with a plethora of crimson rose petal; there was not a trace of the faintest of bounce,
The blissful leaves were squashed into a miserable pulp; and colored juice dribbled; forming tiny rivulets on the ground.

When I threw a ball of wet mud high in the air; it settled on the ground with a dull thud,
Umpteenth molecules of loose dirt cascaded all over; and the bounce was intensely sporadic before it died.

When I voraciously banged a ball of hot iron against car metal; it ripped apart the intricate demeanor,
Traversing at swashbuckling speeds like a fired bullet; it was too heavy to bounce and virtually sunk deep.

When I banged a ball of malevolent hatred on the floor; it assassinated alongwith itself scores of impeccable individuals,
Propagating enmity in races of mixed color; instigating rampant incidences of uncurbed violence; without bouncing the slightest whisker.

And when I eventually banged the ball of love against the most roughest of surface; it bounced as high as the sky,
Kept bouncing even after striking the ground several times;
It was the bounce of flexibility; the bounce of perpetual bondage and sharing; which had its spirits soaring handsome in the clouds; with the Creator to shower his blessings and perennially protect it.

© Copyright 2018 Nikhil Parekh. All rights reserved.

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