Puntastic Ideas

Puntastic Ideas

The idea seemed pretty emusing,

I'm toadally up said I for this thing.

It may well be the sealiest thing you've heard,

Being completely irrelephant and absurd.

But trust me it's whale lot of fun,

And isn't half as hawkward once it's done.

Oh and you toucan sure play the game!

You don't need any koalafications to your name.

I'm not kitten you as you might think,

All you goata do is to link the link.

Turtle down and relax cause it's easily done,

But the chimpion will be the one who won.

I understand it must be getting really boaring for you,

Don't worry, anotter couple of lines and you're through.

And yes, If u liked it do let minnow!

Owl be waiting in the comments below.

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Kindness

Kindness

Nothing equals the happiness one gets,

In uplifting a soul weighed down by regrets.

Nothing equals the happiness one can acquire,

Seeing in let down eyes, a newly lit fire.

Happiness is showing the light of the day,

To a lonely heart, dripping with dismay.

Happiness is holding a feeble hand,

Knitting a life together strand by strand.

Happiness is a unique state of mind,

With mercy and kindness it's entwined.

Pointing out good while all others see is bad,

Leaving behind all the reasons to be sad.

Kindness heals every wound, setting the heart free,

To go about helping others, being the best it can be.

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Lofty Peaks

Lofty Peaks

Motivation, I've discovered is what keeps us going.

Through our insecurities, abashed and unknowing.

Motivation fuels the heart and the mind,

Hope is born, unconfined.

Through the clouds of pall, hope paves the way,

For the first rays to light up the day.

Urging us to set our goals ever  higher,

New peaks to conquer, loftier still to acquire.

Goals are to be set, standards to be decided.

There shall be no map or utilities provided.

For the map should be self drawn no matter the delay,

Utilities though can be picked along  the way.

As I set off to reach further than the kites,

To break old records and conquer new heights.

Limbs ache and eyes burn,

It's getting stepper with every turn.

Nothing compares though with the feeling I get,

When over the loftiest peak my flag I set.

Looking down at the atrocious path  only to admit,

That it had been totally worth it.

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The Man who Stole the Moon

Hey guys!! You all must be knowing Gruuuu from the Despicable Me movie series. Honestly I loved the character and so here's my attempt at a write up on my favorite aspect of the character.... Enjoy!! 

The man who stole the Moon

A mind so sharp, a villain like none other,

However, mistreated by his own mother.

Ever since he was a kid he had an aim,

The moon, to himself he was to claim.

He built mock-ups and chalked down plans,

Even built a functional model with his little hands.

The plan to steal the moon was a gradual process,

And each step of it was for his mother to assess.

Not that she paid any interest to the whole thing,

His plans, to her the innocent child would bring.

Only to get shrugged off and ignored,

As the usual "eh" out from her mouth poured.

He showed her models of the rocket he was to use,

First of bananas then, a RC with no screws loose.

For the crime of the century he was to commit,

And he wanted her to know who was behind it.

And so the little villain grew up disdained,

To get some attention he badly pained.

So when villains were about stealing things like the pyramids,

Of his moon plan, he was busy checking the grids.

For several years he and his cousins the minions,

(Though as to being his cousins there are different opinions)

Worked for their cousin (master) to aid his deed,

And eventually in his plans he did succeed.

But he was good at heart, the criminal of the century,

His attitude towards his 3 little girls  was exemplary.

And trying to save them he undid the evil deed,

And after a fateful encounter, the moon was freed.

The world celebrated the hero-once-a-goon,

Now known as The man who 'saved' the moon.

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Pure Intentions

Pure Intentions

You will always find critics,

Sometimes many, other times few.

Whatever be their analysis,

Know that there's no replacement for you.

Place their views someplace safe,

Somewhere, you they don't bother.

For to opinions, you're not a slave,

There's so much in life to smother!

Because if your intentions are pure,

None of what the world thinks matters

And once their opinions are locked secure,

In your heart there will be no splatters.

And those precious moments away they give,

In worldly gossip and chatter.

Are wasting the wondrous opportunity to live,

On things that will never matter.

This life is precious and brief,

So stand for others while you can.

Fill it with happiness not grief,

Of your existence in this short span.

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The Bridge

The Bridge

Ever heard 'Bridge' the differences?

Ever heard 'Bridge' the gaps?

Of a bridge one can make several inferences,

Most importantly two ends together it clasps.

A bridge is a binding force,

One of many a name.

To the force that many endorse,

But their work is all the same.

Some call it the cementing material,

Of the building blocks of the society.

Yet others find the description unreal,

But hey! I'm not here to discuss their anxiety.

The Bridge seems fine by me.

And it wouldn't be wrong to think,

That we need lots of them to be,

For the people to interlink!

For the society to act as one,

For communities to be united.

Many ideas are born under the sun,

But none of them have left me so delighted!

So let's create bridges wherever we go!

For they be the seeds of happiness we sow.

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A Park's Bench

A Park's Bench

From the most beautiful mornings,

To the most enchanting evenings,

From the spring to the frosty fall,

It's lived through to witness it all.

It's been there across generations and yet more to come,

Be it scientists or the philosophers, to it they succumb.

It has shouldered many a tired backs,

And more so of such kindly acts.

It has sheltered many homeless folks,

In many, a sense of nostalgia it invokes.

As it's always been there under the yew tree,

Open to everyone, without as little as a fee.

Scribbled across its surface are countless marks,

A sense of wonder in me every time it sparks.

A living history book it is for all, to see and touch,

Just be gentle with it... It's already aged much!

From a homeless man counting his days,

To a young artist experimenting his ways.

Carving in it animals and smiling faces,

It's wood has preserved their long left traces.

It sits there as it has always had: peacefully,

Under the yew tree, ageing beautifully.

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