Poetry

1. BIG THUMB
When I held it dead straight and candidly in free space; people thought I was being
overwhelmingly rude and cheeky,
When I sucked it passionately in my mouth; people thought I was just an innocuously
overgrown child; unfit to exist in monotonous society,
When I curled it stubbornly to form a fist; people thought I was in an invidiously wild
mood to punch and fight,
When I slanted it a trifle towards the left or right; people thought I wanted a
brazen and speedy lift,
When I pressed it ardently on scintillating white paper after dipping it in sapphire
pools of ink; people thought that I was illiterate; didn’t even know how to prudently
sign,
When I raised it above my shoulders for incessant lengths of time; people thought
that I gruesomely stranded; wanted to abscond to more blissful places than the eerie
mist surrounding me,
When I folded it pathetically into boundless knots; people thought that I was
disdainfully maim; endeavoring my best against crippled time,
When I tapped it relentlessly on the desk; people thought that I was peevishly
irritated; desired to be left in immortal peace and all alone,
When I rubbed it voraciously across my armory of teeth; people thought I had
dropped freshly from the rustic village; wasn’t acquainted the slightest to
contemporary toothbrush and stringent paste,
When I hoisted it vivaciously towards my friends in times of perilous examinations;
people thought that I was wishing my comrades all the very best,
When I probed it forward to sprinkle crimson vermilion in the hair of my beloved;
people thought I had tied the nuptial thread; bonded myself into the swirl of sacred
marriage,
When I ominously hurled in sedate atmosphere; people thought I had intentions of
breaking somebody's nose; waded back in petrified terror,
When I obnoxiously pointed it downwards towards Black mud; people thought I was
in a mood to contemptuously insult; ridicule sagacious entities to inconspicuous

2. dust,
When I caressed it on colossal slabs of white ice; people thought that I trying to
generate tremors of inexplicable excitement in my languidly dreary persona,
When I whole heartedly offered it to kids to play; people thought that I was
extremely philanthropic; had this insatiable desire to help human kind,
When I twisted it fervently to capsize the pen; people thought that I was in an
uninhibited spree to write,
When I engulfed it wholesomely with colored gloves; people thought that I was
involved in heinous crimes; was trying to surreptitiously sequester my trail of
vulnerable fingerprints,
When I feverishly bit it umpteenth number of times in the day; people thought that I
was encapsulated with incomprehensible anxiety; was waiting for precarious time to
rapidly unveil,
When I held it intractably against my lips; people thought I was trying to intimidate
them into brutalized silence,
When I amicably waved it towards the chair; people thought that I instructing them
to congenially sit and relish in fantasy,
O! My God; although it was just a short stub of fat flesh protruding from my palms;
my big thumb was really something to ponder about; my big thumb was
incredulously astounding.