Aniruddha Pathak Poet Sonnet

Many die starved of love

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Why emotional starvation can be far more devastating than physical deprivation. The choice of iambic tetrameter in place of pentameter gives the sonnet an urgent ballad-like rhythm that mirrors a heavy heartbeat matching the theme. The sonnet is followed by its sequel. 
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The dismal most of human dread 
That might hit a man ‘pon this earth, 
And scarce of flesh, nor bleeding red, 
Be loveless life of utter dearth.  
Faults of flesh can well be treated, 
Alleviated if not quite cured, 
But no one hospice has e’er made 
Wherein a lonely soul’s assured. 

Nor yet are medicines invented 
To soothe a soul, put back on move, 
Many may die for want of bread, 
A mere morsel, a roof above— 
More die of hearts not beating red, 
And perish starved of little love. 

And why

We build a world of glowing glass,
Where distant voices crowd the air,
Yet lonely ghosts in silence pass,
Through crowded files of cold despair.
The much-wired grid is deeply cast,                               
Where sterile screens and sensors peak—
But isolated to the last,
To cold screens the soul scarce can speak.

We scroll through lives of phantom light, 
To find a spark we cannot hold, 
And starve within a crowded night— 
While algorithms grow more bold, 
The spirit, frozen stone of blight
Left loosely joined and deeply cold.                     
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Sonnet | 08.12.2008, revised August 2026 | dread/fear, heart, love, life

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