Aniruddha Pathak Poems
|801.||The Vice And Virtue||12/29/2013|
|802.||When Milton’s Sonnets Sing||12/20/2013|
|803.||Nirvana On Earth||12/16/2013|
|804.||The Spirit Of Sports||12/19/2012|
|806.||I Remember That Farewell Night||4/3/2018|
|807.||A Journey Nowhere To Arrive||4/5/2018|
|809.||Where Beliefs Bathe By The Sea||4/6/2018|
|810.||Greed Is Good||3/16/2015|
|811.||Faith And Reason||12/28/2013|
|812.||The Murder Most Foul||12/21/2013|
|813.||Fourteen Beautiful Birds On Wings||11/18/2012|
|814.||Joy Is The Way||10/28/2012|
|815.||There Are Books And Books, But||12/16/2013|
|817.||The Joy Of Giving||12/13/2013|
|818.||When He Left||3/18/2015|
|819.||This Game Of Golf||12/30/2013|
Comments about Aniruddha Pathak
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...
No Fathers’ Day card e’er failed to arrive,
Nor yet a sterile call on Mothers’ Day;
A family album on a lean day
Kept deserted memories still alive,
As did the once-in-a-blue-moon visits
That waned thinner as every season changed.
The Spartan flat, once modestly crowded,
Looked more spacious now than it ever was,