Aniruddha Pathak Poems
The Joy Of Giving
Be it no more than just a glass of water,
A walking-stick alive rendered by daughter,
Care and concern, warm smile, none far too hotter;
Or quality time spent with someone old,
A warm blanket in times forlorn and cold,
In times of need a willing shoulder-hold;
A pair of slippers to feet walking bare,
Not in loud charity to show you care,
Heart-born feelings shown above false air;
Anything given short of counting ways,
Given to brighten up sinking heart's greys,
To lighten load that too heavily weighs;
Give it in cash though ...
The Poetic View
I looked at what was Nature’s rare wonder
And enquired: what do we call this flower?
‘A lily’, said a gardener
In a matter of fact,
Looking at my pointed finger,
Precise, to the point, and perfect.
Not quite content, a man of science—
Of flowers and flora, their progeny,