THE KIDS SOMERSAULTED on the carpet green grass, <br />digging holes in fresh mud with plastic spade, <br />Whirling flying saucers that went whizzing past the <br />blueberry tree, <br />Yelling at full capacity of lung whilst playing games <br />of red Indian. <br />The housewife bustled through interiors of the <br />kitchen, <br />Singing favorite notes of Egyptian music, <br />Chopping pieces of meat with immaculate ease, <br />Dispatching rotten eggs to safe enclosures of the <br />dustbin, <br />Preparing appetizing meals of corn with slices of cold <br />meat. <br />He had reason to be a proud man, <br />Years of strife before he climbed the ladders of <br />success, <br />Now bestowed with a blissful little family, <br />He paced through corridors of the large balcony with <br />the newly born child in his <br />arms. <br /> <br /> <br />All seemed to be going well, <br />He seemed to have struck a balance between work and <br />perennial fortune, <br />Before he attended the shrill ringing of the punch <br />button telephone, <br />A hoarse voice croaked, then burst into guffaws of <br />laughter, <br />Informing him of death fast approaching, <br />As several bombs were activated in the red sedan, <br />Which now sped out of the driveway, carrying his twin <br />children and wife. <br />He ran like never before, screamed at the top of his <br />nerve wrecked voice, <br />Tall legs transporting him outside in flash seconds of <br />time, <br />But for once destiny had played a cruel joke, <br />There occurred an earth shattering explosion, <br />Amber balls of fire emanated with smoke, <br />Pieces of car seat plummeted high in the sky, <br />The car spun several revolutions before settling on <br />the ground, <br />He ran to the scene with premature tears welling up <br />his eyes, <br />To witness the carcass of his family, <br />Triggered by the brutally inhuman Bomb blast <br /><br />Nikhil Parekh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bomb-blast-4/
