The last poem that has made to the short-list is "The Purple Marshmallow" by "Payal Maheshwari" from IIT Kharagpur Congratulations on making the Short-list! Note: You are requested to respect the intellectual property of the poet and not copy or publish this poem anywhere in any form without her prior permission. The Purple Marshmallow (Narrative Poem) Down the Persian valley, swayed the rowdy crowd, The bazaars got bizarrer, as the people spurted out, Embedded deep in there, was a fur-soft little boy, Mesmerized like a hare, by the vivid colors of joy, He turned foolishly coy. His feet took a sudden rest; eyes trapped by a burdened cest, A cest of colorful caramels; caramels at their best. Aroused by the idea of a trade, quickly the little lad paid. Lured by a marshmallow splendid, quickly he came to its aid, Why, purple was its shade. High and low; to and fro; went the brilliant marshmallow, Friskily flying in phenomenal bliss, the lad felt like a feather, Gracing the crust with a gentle kiss, the lad wondered whether, The confectionery had the powers of sky? Why yes, immortal aye! It could simply never die. Elated by his conquest so fine, through the callus of glee he sailed, Crossing the mighty gods in shrine, through the oaks and lilies, he railed. His euphoria knew no fence, no ridge; as he went on to address the robust bridge. His euphoria knew no treason to quote, as he went on to inject a reason to bloat. Ah! The wonderful season to gloat! Eager to gloat, lulled by the pool; why the pool of infinite ale, “Could this ale turn all purple, if deeper and deeper my marshmallow could sail?” At this idea absurd, the child roared with laughter; he knew not what the lake was after. As the gods grew sick of the little lad’s mirth; demons of fury and chaos gave birth, And upsurged the pull of the mighty earth! The devil’s thunderous curse to abide, was sent to this lowly droid of pride, The curse loosened the little lad’s palm; and out came his only token of calm. Ripples of a fantastic terror, frowned upon the little lad’s error, Questioning the lake’s stillness and hue, crests and troughs of black and blue. The marshmallow’s early death was due. The colors had blended, the ballad had ended, The opera had ceased, the phantom unleashed, had revoked the hope. Trying not to choke,The poor lad cried, salty tears tide by tide, Till the purple water died. Dazzled by an unknown void, bullets of guilt he couldn’t avoid, Radiant restlessness glint after glint, “Ammi, oh Ammi!” he cried on sprint, With purple stains on his finger, anxiety on his face did linger, With dried tears and tasteless salt; Redemption over his innocent fault, Could bring his muddy feet, to halt. Crossing the bazaar of flavor and woo, he encountered a road divided in two, Why, one was full of carts and stalls, of beloved marshmallows and caramel balls. A shop of linen, at the end of other, contained the lad’s ingenuous mother. Observing this cinematic still from the sky, sneered the devil with a shine in his eye. Infusing more greed in the little lad’s cry. To reimburse the curse, to redeem the dream, The muddy feet started, the lad fearlessly darted, Through the devil’s vicious trap, to extinguish the gap; A shining throne of his Ammi’s lap, Oh! what magic did the mother breed, demolishing the devil’s anagrams of greed? Flicking swiftly from dark to mellow, skipping friskily from purple to yellow, Hopelessly the devil tried and cried, aura of a mother in one hearty stride, Uprooted the devil’s worthless pride! And since then, Red and Grey went the devil’s blue, A mother of a child- The master of hue!
Posted on: Thu, 19 Sep 2013 20:30:54 +0000
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