Anirudh Pathak
With a Bachelor's degree in Computer Science, Anirudh has landed himself a job in the prestigious Core Division of Goldman Sachs. He is an expert poet and has also been the coordinator of the BITS Pilani Poetry Club. He is credited with organizing the first ever edition of Rap Wars in OASIS 2011.
Sometimes it's hard to let go,
of things minuscule in existence,
they just keep cropping up,
up, up and up again
It's just another poem of just another girl,
and just another boy in this microcosmic world.
Thrown into the same space, she and me,
Similar spaces, But not so similar spaces
haven't really stricken up anything yet,
still she hovers in this digressed mind.
Without no reason, sans no cause,
like an obnoxious, though pretty, weed
she wanders in a plethora of thoughts.
Dared a couple of times, wuss dares they were
Carpe Diem, I had thought, before daring,
though the adage wasn't implemented to the fullest
"Ciao, happiness!", I heard myself blaring.
Reticent, sometimes sanguine, I try to be,
making her laugh, letting her smug,
satirical sometimes I pose myself,
to get the attention I seek, the indifference I slug.
Thinking freely, doing gaucherie, a habit?
"She is not that pretty! God dammit!"
Eclectically choosing words to utter,
so that we hit it off ,somewhere, somehow
mutter, blabber, blather and a little sense,
come off of me, I think, I doubt.
"Take things slow", "Don't vaunt yourself"
"Let at least one conversation meet it's goal "
"Be affable, less bombastic, less soporific"
"Don't offer everything, rather dole "
Florid thoughts, empty actions, story of life
I say myself and suppress every sentiment,
then I let them sway by, drops of ecstasy
driving away all the dilemma, all that lament.
A day will come when this laggard rises
(too dramatic, just another poem as I said )
and breathes out Carpe diem in his every breath
and letting his best self out, to the day he is dead.
they just keep cropping up,
up, up and up again
It's just another poem of just another girl,
and just another boy in this microcosmic world.
Thrown into the same space, she and me,
Similar spaces, But not so similar spaces
haven't really stricken up anything yet,
still she hovers in this digressed mind.
Without no reason, sans no cause,
like an obnoxious, though pretty, weed
she wanders in a plethora of thoughts.
Dared a couple of times, wuss dares they were
Carpe Diem, I had thought, before daring,
though the adage wasn't implemented to the fullest
"Ciao, happiness!", I heard myself blaring.
Reticent, sometimes sanguine, I try to be,
making her laugh, letting her smug,
satirical sometimes I pose myself,
to get the attention I seek, the indifference I slug.
Thinking freely, doing gaucherie, a habit?
"She is not that pretty! God dammit!"
Eclectically choosing words to utter,
so that we hit it off ,somewhere, somehow
mutter, blabber, blather and a little sense,
come off of me, I think, I doubt.
"Take things slow", "Don't vaunt yourself"
"Let at least one conversation meet it's goal "
"Be affable, less bombastic, less soporific"
"Don't offer everything, rather dole "
Florid thoughts, empty actions, story of life
I say myself and suppress every sentiment,
then I let them sway by, drops of ecstasy
driving away all the dilemma, all that lament.
A day will come when this laggard rises
(too dramatic, just another poem as I said )
and breathes out Carpe diem in his every breath
and letting his best self out, to the day he is dead.
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