Toy Story!!

Little Bo Peep lost her sheep.
Thinking of her, Woody lost his sleep.
He saved the animals from evil Pork Chop.
Of all his feats, this is certainly on top.

And there lived Jessie
Whose hair wasn't messy.
She first lived with Stinky
And then with Slinky.

She rode Bullseye;
Buzz Lightyear was her guy.
The Potatoheads were her friends,
Whose sizzling romance never ends.

They adopted Squeeze Toy Aliens
That were quite unlike homo sapiens.
PH* saved their lives; they are eternally grateful.
When the toys were in danger, they did the needful.

They were friends with a Sergeant,
A man who was diligent.
They all despised Sid,
Who tortures many did.

Woody's pal was a dinosaur,
One that was never the cynosure.
Rex was his name,
Ever ready for a game.

They all came handy
To entertain Andy,
Blessed to have such toys
That spread numerous joys.

*-short for Potatohead.

Oh! Wicked Universe

Oh! Wicked universe,
With your wicked ways.
Impregnating the heart with many a dream,
Inscribing on the mind many a thought.
Is it a game you play with innocent souls?
Or a test you keep for our indomitable spirits?

You open a window,
But you close the door.
How are we to enter paradise?
The weak are meek;
They don't get what they seek.
Those strong like teak
Only reach the peak.

How wonderful you are!
You make a complicated conflict
Between the heart and the mind.
It's a fierce bettle
Between being practical and positive,
Rendering us helpless,
Making us toil so much.

But then,
Isn't the fruit that waits long
The ripest of all?

Conscious Efforts

In a fit of rage I yell
On top of my voice.
My Adam's apple bears the brunt;
The decibel level reaches a high;
The listeners' ear drums take the strain.

In the fading moments of tension and wrath
I regret shouting at my mother,
I regret losing my cool.

Patience - a saintly virtue
Should I adopt,
For fury is not worth my time,
Fury is not a worthy emotion.

Umpteen resolutions have gone in vain,
Countless "sorry"s have vanished in thin air,
Making me regret, regret
And do nothing but regret.

I admit I'm imperfect,
But I'm ashamed
I don't make an effort
To change my self,
To behave as to not regret later.

With oodles of grit and conscious efforts
Will I try my best to achieve what I need.

After all,
Rome was not built in a day.

Aham Brahmaasmi

In the drop of paint that unites bristles;
In the notes of music born out of reeds
Is one of the most fulfilling deeds,
Completing which the heart joyously sizzles.

While holding a pencil to make a sketch,
While twisting the legs to make a step,
While saying a joke to make feel pep,
While producing music with a magical touch.

While giving shape to a mound of clay,
While stringing words to make a verse,
While knitting yarn to make a purse
Moments of idleness does a man slay.

While breathing life into an inanimate figure,
While chiseling an idol out of a rock
Mortality does the creator mock.
His/her heart does grow bigger and bigger.

Glowing bright, creative light
Exhibits its eternal, joy-giving force.
An artist in his/her life's course
Demons many does he/she tirelessly fight.