Aniruddha Pathak Poems

Unreal scarce doth exist

Never can unreal come to be,
Nor ever real ceases to be,
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Clothes sure play a role
And one must make an impress.
I recall a verse1
I had learned in my childhood:
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Drained, clouds no more rain,
Sun at the end of day's pain,
Here's rainbow's short reign.
______________________________
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He died deeply frustrate
Under the burden of dire debt,
But that was not his fate.
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Let me start darkling a tale, rather stark,
O lighting a lamp to look into dark.

On drowning deep in pen puddles my own,
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Reasoned fair and forthright,
What if ‘hind words wise there be child's mind?
Let the old aught it well its worth find,
Fine, no sun shines at night,
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Leaving behind disastrous taste,
It came, an unexpected guest.

Came, a lot on the way to drown,
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Was told: true friend is man's third hand,
And I set out in search of third hand.

To peacocks, hills are never far,
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State all the causes
Why Earth so beautiful is.
Some went on and on,
Pages spilling with their pain,
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There's this young lass, a Los Angelest,
Who her nude snaps sold, for self the least,
But for a selfless cause—
For bush-fire loss it was,
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