Welcome to Poetry.com
Poetry.com is a huge collection of poems from famous and amateur poets from around the world — collaboratively published by a community of authors and contributing editors.
If someone slapped me with swashbuckling strokes of fingers,
i would retort back a volley of praise to pacify his nerves.
if someone vomited loads of spit on my persona,
i would blend it with my precious blood before returning the same to him.
if someone splashed my exteriors with pails of fuming acid,
i would offer him a large pitcher full of sweet mountain water.
if someone blended sizeable amounts of snake venom in my food,
i would sprinkle sacred ash on his hair, paint his forehead with golden vermilion.
if someone left a battalion of red ant on my bare flesh,
i would offer him a articulately carved oysters containing a plethora of pearls.
if someone rode on my back unrelentingly whipping my skin,
i would carry his load even through arduous spells of steaming summer.
if someone pinched dainty regions of my flesh amidst an ambience of dignitaries,
i would embrace him with open arms pardoning his disdainful deeds.
if someone tripped me midway, left me squirming facedown on the ground,
i would simply wipe the blotches of dust from creases of my attire.
if someone made me lick the mud on road with corrugated flesh of my tongue,
i would reward him with biscuits of bonded gold.
if someone punctured transparent marbles in my eye rendering me blind,
i would bless him with infinite pairs of eyes to envisage perils lurking towards him.
if someone left me unequipped in savage jungles of the African valley,
i would smile all the way treading across den's of striped panthers.
c'mon folks lets be ardently realistic,
the above actions can be replicated by none other than God,
having divine powers to forgive the most heinous of atrocity,
the magnanimous prowess of blessing all animate existing:
we as a bunch of fallible humans would have onerous difficulty in duplicating the Creator,
some tasks are better left to him, rather than accomplishing them ourselves.
Discuss this Nikhil Parekh poem with the community:
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
"Lets Leave It To The Creator" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 26 Sep. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/50406/lets-leave-it-to-the-creator>.