Life = Death - Volume 7 - Poems on Life , Death by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

13. BEARDED 

I didn’t need a pair of scissors; glistening wildly in yellow Sunlight,

I didn’t need a knife; protruding gallantly from the slender handle,

I didn’t need a hostile blade; with edges as sharp as a savage vulture,

I didn’t need after shave cologne; emanating a scent more stupendous than the rose,

I didn’t need a pungent slab of aluminum; having its surface as smooth as white ice,

I didn’t need a soft sponge; with its body profusely dipped in tingling antiseptic,

I didn’t need tablets of colored soap; evolving a bath of bubbles after vigorous scrubbing,

I didn’t need high pressured foam; diffusing into a stream of spicy froth the instant I compressed it,

I didn’t need long spools of cotton; triangular heaps of bandages to drape across my wounds,

I didn’t need shimmering tweezers of pure steel; to scrupulously pluck my hair,

I didn’t need sleazy colored dye; with its shade resembling rotten vegetables decaying in the dark,

I didn’t need a blow dryer; ejecting out tones of hot air at whirlwind speeds,

I didn’t need a barrel of vanity powder; to spuriously illuminate the contours of my face,

I didn’t need a bowl of moisturizing cream; to incessantly massage each pore of my skin,

I didn’t need sizzling face pads; to caress the breath flowing harmoniously out of my nose,

I didn’t need a mirror; to admire my reflection for marathon hours in the

scintillating glass incorporated within,

I didn’t even need to waste a single second more in the morning; reaching the office well before the boss came in,

And the strange thing was; that even if someone donated all the above contraptions to me completely free; I still would blatantly reject them,

By now you must be at the edge of your seats to know the secret of my existence; well the answer to this is more simpler than your voice; as I didn’t have even

the slightest of free space on my cheeks; or to put it more succinctly I was bearded