Aniruddha Pathak Poems
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The Murder Most Foul
The meanest murder minus of machete,
Overwhelming greed blamed, sole bleeding knife;
Who held the knife? Manic men of market?
Fair lady herself—too much freedom rife?
To save her skin she this defence did make:
Infidels do breed their own tragic ends—
Oft making markets seem a sad mistake;
But here she used her own barest of hands.
No darling; not in fear, ye died of hate,
In greed of growth I guess, guilt-edged progress,
And yet, ere ye fall to thine destined fate,
I blame less Lady Greed, more her excess.
If bleed ye must ye shall bleed ...
I Am Happy As I'M
Haply playing flute on a river bank,
He hardly saw the king’s men approaching,
E’en close when they came and sat in a flank,
To give the happy news: message from king.
As patience when in power a thin virtue,
As good news from royalty scarce can wait,
As best of everything comes with a date,
They were eager king’s diktat to issue: