Aniruddha Pathak Poems
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This Game Of Golf
The game of golf nigh like this life,
Though played all life perfect can’t be,
The game of golf like player’s wife,
Now on pedestal, now on tee,
On roughs, on toughs, handicaps, bogies, strife,
Ah, played as if on edge of knife!
Easy to start, hard enough to finish,
And harder yet forever to master,
Pursued and practised like unfulfilled wish,
And always one stroke ‘way from disaster.
As in life in game, handicaps to cap,
Clap for birdies, try still eagles each lap.
What a rage be the game played every age,
With many a high and as many...
Cooking Up Budgets
The halwa1 cooked we hope is sweeter made,
Flavoured with sops and served with a straight face,
That, our household hisaab2, now inflated,
At last may recover its long lost grace;
The budget-cooks, (many that the broth spoil) ,
And oft hard-placed any sweetness to find,
Try as they hard, end up with over boil,
O to pass off ripe fruit with bitter rind.
The top chef when comes with his witty lines,