Aniruddha Pathak Poems

It may look so odd
But man can well exceed God,
His turf's seldom sod.
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At no time had I never been,
Nor ever wert thou never been,
Nor the chieftains hither seen,
Never shall it hence ever be
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What if world zealots see Earth from far—
As far as hundred thousand miles are,
Earth looking but an orange
Would not their outlook change?
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Book six days seven nights on Earth's moon
For a lifetime's chance sooner than soon,
And under Earth-lit light
Spend honeymoon's rare night,
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Painful ‘tis attacking foes at gates,
Painful if friends leave, leave kindred mates,
Givers both of grave grief,
None rendering relief,
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And a dispute, of all, on honey—
A honey comb of great harmony
Causing neighbour dispute,
So, what lies at the root?
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And Brahma forged a form— a female-head,
A mother of the need, of weird form—
Black as born of darkness, tongue and mouth red,
Eyes burning yellow, like a raging storm.
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It is hard
To forgive and forget, as
If nothing happened has,
But no so hard
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A man mighty, how so great,
If no nuisance can create,
Li'le respect he'd beget,
Tuskers, nor beasts so regal,
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It was Creator's fond dream,
Man be a pilgrim.
Alas, it turned grave and grim—
His earnest error,
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