STYLE Abruptly crisp; sonorously manipulative ; Astutely target oriented; was the style of the checkered suit businessman, Vibrant breezy; Beautifully serene; Stupendously animated; was the style of the gigantic trunk oak tree, Boisterously escalating; Tenaciously clashing; Fabulously salty; was the style of the boundlessly undulating ocean, Impeccably innocent; Entirely oblivious to vagaries of monotonous life; as innocuous as the virgin sea shores; was the style of the freshly born and incessantly sleeping child, Viciously wicked; Perilously threatening; Furtively clever; was the style of the acerbic tailed & lethally venomous scorpion, Bountifully colossal; Blissfully serene; Dynamically fluttering; was the style of the unfathomable expanse of azure sky, Overwhelmingly verbose; Inundated with countless alphabets; Encompassing every word on this planet; was the style of the leather bound and enchantingly embellished dictionary, Tangily seductive; Voluptuously enticing; Ravishingly beautiful; was the style of the young maiden, Blatantly deplorable; Thunderously smelly; Obnoxiously fat; was the style of the garbage coated and pretentiously inflated pig, Magically smooth; Uninhibitedly unrestricted; Handsomely buoyant; was the style of the wide spread and majestically gliding eagle, Brilliantly flamboyant; Omnipotent & supremely enthusing; Sizzling the entire Universe in the swirl of its austerely fiery rays; was the style of the Kingly Sun, Disdainfully dirty; Mischievously poking; Large eyed and petrified; was the style of the gargantuan rat sleeping peacefully on a bar of immaculate cheese, Gorgeously sweet; Insurmountably tantalizing; Heavenly scented; was the style of the incomprehensibly spongy and cherry tipped triangular cake,
Pertinently harassing; Relentlessly irate; Perniciously and incorrigibly permeating; was the style of the inconspicuously diminutive mosquito, Preposterously large; Heinously diabolical; Mammoth jawed and cannibalistic; was the style of the stoically silver shark, Rambunctiously busy; Rampantly darting around; Mystically diffusing delectable globs of golden honey; was the style of the electric paced and diving bumble bee, Poignantly sharp; Celestially tasting; Astronomically reinvigorating; was the style of the profusely aromatic morning tea, Unsurpassably slippery; Wildly woven; Intractably sticky; was the style of the splendidly captivating and criss-crossed spider web, Stringently barking; Irrefutably loyal; Blessed with an astounding prowess to smell even the most obscure of footprints; was the style of the fur coated sheep dog, Unimaginably blessed; Engendering a person to march forward all his life; Vivaciously pouring tears of happiness and sadness at times; was the style of the effusively turbulent eye, Infectiously sweet; Crunchy & Delicious; Incredulously exotic; was the style of the raw crystals of scintillating white sugar, Tumultuously freezing; More transparent than any mirror; Shimmering ingratiatingly under milky moonlight; was the style of the mountain of white ice, Astoundingly cozy; Wonderfully compassionate; Exquisitely sheltering naked skin from inclement cold; was the style of the richly evolved and meticulously stitched satiny quilt, Insurmountably heavy; Extraordinarily abraded demeanor; Remaining as stoical as dead even in bizarre affliction; was the style of the bulky grey stone boulder, Magnificently striped; Dispersed into shades of mesmerizing beauty; Tremendously fascinating; was the style of the opalescent rainbow, Abusively dirty; Repugnant to virtually all mankind; Abhorrently white sandwiched between glowing follicles of scalp hair; was the style of pugnacious dandruff, Deadly disastrous; Inexorably earth shattering; Unprecedentedly devastating; was the style of the cold blooded and killer earthquake,
Melodiously cascading; Clashing into a billion globules of sparkling froth; Gorgeously caressing the periphery of black rock; was the style of the profoundly exuberant and gurgling waterfall, Unflinchingly brave; An intrepid adventurer; Compromising on nothing but the traitors scalp; was the style of the true soldier, Love without discrimination; Unquestionably sacrosanct visage; Thoughts about her child solely lingering in her mind; was the style of the Divinely mother, Incessantly on the prowl; Ruthlessly assassinating innocent heads for meager bundles of currency; Traces of humanity evaporated into remote oblivion; was the style of the cold blooded criminal, Inevitably smiling; Instilling life in morbidly dead veins; Heaps of talcum powder irrevocably sticking to his face; was the style of the comically attired circus clown, Opulently glimmering; Overpowering everything in vicinity by the tenacious power in its shine; Coined as the richest source of human survival; was the style of the fat bodied gold coin, Deluged with blissful scent; Beyond perceptions of captivating beauty; Sprouting like a magician from a pond of dirty water; was the style of the prolifically redolent and pink lotus, Dolorously dull; Strangulated with gruesomely contemptuous malice; Aligned with a massive battalion of blood sucking termites; was the style of the impregnably hostile prison cell, Rosily pink; Intransigently titillating; Chattering infinite times in a single day; was the style of velvety soft lips, A glistening thirst quencher; Pacifying scorched chords of the throat beyond the mightiest of perception; Guzzled by every palpable being till the time he exists and even in times of after life; was the style of pure and plain spring water, Bombastically sleazy; Nictitating with a festoon of garish lights; A clandestine retreat for heartthrobs after midnight; was the style of the indefatigably pulsating country discotheque, Continuously ticking; Accurately depicting various shades of life; Portraying to all the immense value of time; was the style of the towering and century old grandfather clock,
Lifelessly still; Nostalgically reminiscent; Placid yet profusely demonstrative; was the style of the decade old and dusty photograph, Exorbitantly mounted; Embossed with several lines; The ultimate chapter of destiny; was the style of the scarlet complexioned rubicund palm, Infinitesimally tiny; Blended with a rectangle and square; Kissing the key umpteenth number of times in a day; was the style of the intricately dainty enigmatic keyhole, Supremely tantalizing; Astonishingly curled; Flirtatiously flashing; was the style of the gentle and beautiful eyelashes, Vehemently stinking; Freely available all day; Enticing an armory of flies the instants it caressed the ground; was the style of colorlessly trapped saliva, Astoundingly incarcerating; Playfully rollicking; Acrobatically jumping; was the style of the adorable and honey crested dolphin, Satanically awesome; Taller than the skies; Ghoulishly growling; was the style of the savagely stepping devil, Perpetually invisible; Able to cast its wicked spell over innocent human beings; Lighter than the lightest of thread; was the style of the lecherously minded ghost, Standing like a pillar in times of distress; Helping without the slightest of expectation; Praying for her brothers safety in whatever arena he stepped; was the style of the unprejudiced sister, And Passionately free; Invincible to all powers of this globe; Immortally existing since centuries unprecedented; Divinely blending palpitating hearts together; was the style of love; infact the style of the Omnipresent Creator.