Aniruddha Pathak Poems
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The Joy Of Giving
Be it no more than a glass of water,
A living walking stick played by daughter,
Care and concern, warm smile, none too hotter;
Or quality time spent with someone old,
Blanket’s warm fold in times forlorn and cold,
In times of need a ready shoulder-hold;
A pair of sleepers to feet walking bare,
Not in loud charity to show you care,
Heart-born feelings when show above false air.
Anything given short of counting ways,
Given to brighten up needy heart’s greys,
To lighten load that too heavily weighs.
Give it ...
Footprints Upon My Sands
Man as in poor image of God is made,
His footprints of acts scarce to my heart reach;
History may have recorded his work,
I need no such printed prints him to know.
I can hear and feel him walking ‘pon me;
Let me wait till that wave rises from sea
Erasing wrinkles off my body’s skin;
And if that tide, always a ready friend,
Whilst receding back to the heart of sea,