Aniruddha Pathak Poems

Forced to spell, compelled when to arrive,
All he showed was honey from bee-hive—
To prove: smart can he speak—
Gullible minds to trick,
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‘Lone did the sun set
Amidst sepulchral silence,
I too alone sat.
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Pray what is it that you try to explain?
Explain? Poetry portraits of words paint,
Feelings are felt; yet, words being so vain,
There's li'le to know but enjoy fragrant scent.
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Self as his sole focus,
And his name, Narcissus,
Man from ancient Pompeii,
He was one and only,
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Man in perpetual search for a pal-ship,
Loves courtship of crowd, nor yet living ‘lone—
That a tailwind, no whirlwind powers his whip,
And a good friend from not is seldom known—
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I am sure sometimes I've someone hurt,
And at times felt have I nigh like dirt.
A competing tourney,
Life is no smooth journey,
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Far off lies one's home
With one boat many a storm,
But storm is life's norm.
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A Tele anchor asked a biz man:
Sir, how fair you find this Budget Plan?
Bold vision all so rare,
It'd take us far and fair,
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He poured tears on his marital strife,
On problems of thankless married life,
Poor absent-minded him,
Lost in the world of dream,
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And death once told a much defeated life:
Life is no life if lived on edge of knife,
If struggles for survivals soaked in strife,
You see, life comes with many a death rife.
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