I Dreamt a Dream

I remember the teddy bear I sketched
when I was nine years old.
It held a tennis racquet in one hand
a ball in the other.
I felt proud on completing it.
I admired its beauty at length.

The sewing machine in the bedroom
holds evidence for my interest in verbal puzzles.
The scrambled letters of my father's name
scrawled on the wood in innocent, cursive writing
still brings a smile to my face.

My sister and I 'invented' our own language,
complete with a written script.
We sang songs of being cooks with 'theepettis'* in our hats.

We laughed heartily when she sang,
"Run, run, run
for a bun, bun, bun.
You'll have fun, fun, fun
if you run, run, run
for the bun, bun, bun."

I remember winning essay competitions;
donning the roles of Tiruvalluvar, Shylock,
Puck and Tenali Raman in school plays;
playing the flute for the school orchestra;
being a part of the school choir.

Little did I know
I'd be writing this particular poem.
But I dreamt I'll become a poet some day.
I told myself
I'd become a better poet.

Till date,
I've been tirelessly working on it.

* - matchboxes

The Path

Clueless and not knowing
what to do,
I stood on the road,
trying to figure out
where to go.

I took some time;
I introspected.
I realized what my destination was.

In one path
did I want to travel.
But nothing worked out
the way I wished.

Like a ray of hope
appeared another path.
A path hitherto untrodden.
A path, of which I knew nothing.

Hoping against all hopes,
I took the risk
of walking on an unknown land.

As I started to walk,
I realized the path was uneven
and full of ups and downs.
It was then that I discovered
the journey was going to be tough.

But there was a welcome breeze
that caressed my cheeks
and touched my heart.
It failed not to bring smiles;
it failed not to make me forget the miles (to be covered).

Yellow flowers adorned the beautiful land;
crepuscular rays lit the way ahead.
I couldn't have asked for a better path.
I hoped it would lead
to an equally picturesque destination.

I remembered the words
a friend uttered,
"The path is more important than the destination."

I realized I had fallen more in love
with the path than on the destination.

I walked ahead
with a heart brimming with hope,
and a mind oozing with perseverance.

I smiled.

The Promise

When you feel sad,

I'll dance with you to the tune of Le Banquet.

I'll do my best to see you smiling always.

I'll do my best to sustain your glee.

Your dreams would I see in your eyes

Your hope would I see in your smile.

I'll do my best to see you happy always.

I'll do my best to help you fulfill your dreams.

I'll change what you don't like in me.

I'll enhance what you like the most in me.

I'll do my best to forget some bittersweet memories.

I'll do my best to love you more than I loved anyone.

I'll light your days with passion and cheer.

I'll find infinite ways for you to enjoy every passing moment.

I'll forget the past, humming this elegy to my old love.

I'll embrace glorious hope, singing this ode to the love of my future. 

Angel's Laughter

Her sweet sound gives wings to my heart;
Her impeccable tone inspires many an art.
She's a tear-jerker when she weeps;
She's a grin-maker when she laughs.

Oh! What all she does to me!

She sings a different song to different people.
She holds their hands, taking them to unexplored havens.
When she's happy, she keeps me afloat.
When she's sad, she keeps me grounded.

She gets not weary of me,
Though I embrace her every night.
I do not get bored of her,
Listening to her voice every night.

The way she makes me feel,
The tinkling laughter she spills for me,
When I place just one of my fingers
On one of her eighty eight!
A divine tinkle it is,
An angel's twinkle it is.

How much I melt
Just to the sound of a piano!

Delightful December

It is the month
When I love getting slapped
By the tender hands of Ms. Winter Breeze.
It is the month
When people are wrapped
To keep themselves warm and not to freeze.

It is the month
When aeroplanes fly
With lights on even during the day.
It is the month
When frogs try
To find someone to love, to be very gay.

It is the month
When I get to say,
"Happy birthday" at least thrice a week.
It is the month
When jealousy is kept at bay
And children wish to get what they seek.

It is the month
When people celebrate
To bid 'bye' to the past, to usher in the new.
It is the month
When we enjoy the climate
On a plant is the flower, on the flower is the dew.

It is the month
Which I love the most
Not only because I was born in it.
It is the month
Which I love the most
Also because 'RAJNIKANTH' was born in it!!

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?