Aniruddha Pathak Poems

Proud thorns to flowers once this said:
Careless hands crush you down, no care,
Yet, as if mute you seem to bear,
Far too timid hast God you made;
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Flesh, blood, nor mind, nor am I brain well-lined,
I'm not what I know, nor am I ego,
Nor yet five senses can claim what ‘I' am,
I'm not five elements as wisdom said—
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What be filled with fecund grown food
So plentiful in this green wood,
Who, for this burning belly's good
Oh such a great sin incur would?
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Maya's myth is Truth Absolute,
Things seen down to barest of root,
One thing the sages and ascetics see,
And quite apart mundane souls, we,
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Eyes never can there reach,
Mind, nor can words of speech,
We know, nor are aware, nor trained
How Brahman can be explained.
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We came for a swim
In what looked to me a dream,
Water nor worries,
We swam in old memories,
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Spring entered my room
And filled me with its perfume,
To spring's bride I felt like groom.
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Poets and politicians both,
Sleigh of tongue and double entendre,
Steady in trot, nor words of troth,
Vague pens and speeches lacking candour,
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Giving gift? So does a gift vendor,
Give a gift and mere gift you render,
Fine, you do give something—
A short season of spring,
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One easily hit scarce be target,
As the bet easy won be no bet,
It is what you cannot,
And what proves a tad hot,
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