Aniruddha Pathak Poems

Some while away their life in vain,
Some in fear of death, some in pain;
Some feel, death comes when life gets tired,
But life all life in death is mired;
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A lady of fertile, fiction-filled head gets killed
By a ghastly fellow called fact!
She when in an inquest gets grilled,
Confesses, ‘I care hoots for heinous act’!
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Comes when the mom comb duck crackling,
Her brood not far behind following—
With all her brood— chicks seventeen,
Marvellous that makes wetland scene.
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Not when thoughts into poetic lines freeze,
Nor when prose decorated is like frieze;
Not when words painted are, and feelings pose,
When winter has warm wish to be spring's rose;
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Sacrificing for love's sake for eons
The sun claims notso in return to get:
You owe me, O Earth, a lifetime of debt';
It makes sun a solar king among suns.
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Fuller the foison faster does it fall,
All great empires in due time aught whither;
Some at zenith may look towering tall,
Wear curly plumes, tufted fancy feather,
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Lo, how the silvery queen of the night
Causes the king of all waters to spill
His passion for her showing in full sight,
The high-tide splashing and rising uphill;
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Wanting ever the more than need,
Cornering every craven toy,
Coveting, pandering to greed,
Man's indulged more, less to enjoy,
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He was alive if breathing be called life,
Peaceful and blissful with no surface strife,
To me, he was suffering for far long,
The man I knew— a man of self-esteem
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You often used to come home tired
From a thankless yet hard day's job,
Looking for someone loosely wired,
And I stand in front like a stuck doorknob.
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