Aniruddha Pathak Poems

At no time had I never been,
Nor ever wert thou never been,
Nor the chieftains hither seen,
Never shall it hence ever be
...

What if world zealots see Earth from far—
As far as hundred thousand miles are,
Earth looking but an orange
Would not their outlook change?
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Book six days seven nights on Earth's moon
For a lifetime's chance sooner than soon,
And under Earth-lit light
Spend honeymoon's rare night,
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Painful ‘tis attacking foes at gates,
Painful if friends leave, leave kindred mates,
Givers both of grave grief,
None rendering relief,
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A poet's a man
Oft proud of his pen,
Little, what he can.
________________________
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Call me tattered estate, I care less,
Call me even a prestitute press,
Paint me jaundiced yellow,
My aura has halo,
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How ye feel, O fair bird from far world?
A crow once asked a migrating bird:
It's hell being fair bird
In this— an all fair world,
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Who spares for whom space in his heart?
Even trees drop dry leaves apart,
Ways of this world— be well aware:
If dead, your own burns you up bare.
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Venom of the venomous varies,
The way corporeal crave comes, harries,
If consumed venom kills,
Coveted a crave grills;
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Be it a book, woman or your pen,
If gone to alien hands, good as gone,
Returned, pen comes all spoiled,
The book— torn, dog-tired, toiled,
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