Aniruddha Pathak Poems

If this home by home-maker is made,
He mused on this existential dark:
Who am I, one that brings home mere bread?
The truth stared at him ever so stark!
...

Let lay wisdom say, by fate is man made,
But made he's by what his driving will is.
Tuned to desire, the will pushing ahead
To perform deeds, poor fate loses its lease.
...

Pedants fume helpless and seethe with rage,
But linguists surrender to the age,
Media always misuse
Commoners to confuse,
...

My garden's manicured grass
Green envy's eyeballs carry,
And still seems nigh passé—
Like a lass looking dreary,
...

Tonnes of glitter and gloss gasping to race
Up the runway, rising to kiss the sky,
Lifted up but by air, pumping up pace,
Or landing else, down from the heavens high,
...

It's like washing-cleaning a skunk
If mind its murky muck retains,
A fish remains in water dunk,
Her stink still as ever remains.
...

What if Mona Lisa's treated like corn?
In multiple forms made and marketed?
From one of a kind and mysterious born,
What if it steals no heart nor turns keen head?
...

Sight of dull moon of the day,
Of bright youth lost in lust, astray,
Devoid of lotus a lake,
Charming face, in learning no stake,
...

A poem hatches in the poet's heart,
To recreate which he has to try hard—
Painstakingly brick by brick, part by part,
Head struggles— be it of novice or bard,
...

A pen on blank page
Earning karmic wage
Be this life, a pilgrimage.
____________________________________
...