Aniruddha Pathak Poems

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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And a dispute, of all, on honey—
A honey comb of great harmony
Causing neighbour dispute,
So, what lies at the root?
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And Brahma forged a form— a female-head,
A mother of the need, of weird form—
Black as born of darkness, tongue and mouth red,
Eyes burning yellow, like a raging storm.
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It is hard
To forgive and forget, as
If nothing happened has,
But no so hard
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A man mighty, how so great,
If no nuisance can create,
Li'le respect he'd beget,
Tuskers, nor beasts so regal,
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It was Creator's fond dream,
Man be a pilgrim.
Alas, it turned grave and grim—
His earnest error,
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In this make-believe world of illusion,
The beauty of thine absolute doth seem
To me, in this time and space in heaven,
Reality as seen, dream within dream!
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Naught but a prison does it change,
A parrot struggles, cage to change.
And in a daunting long journey,
How many still manage to change?
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By learning, good manners we gain,
If that should arrogance attain,
What can be done? Who to complain?
If a child by mother is slain.
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A poet's a man
Oft proud of his pen,
Little, what he can.
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