few broken bones…

life has its own way

to make us understand, what it has got to say

they say that the light comes in through that broken wall

in the end, the answers come to all

 

I got a broken bone

I got a broken bone, the time when I was alone

the time when I was alone, in the country unknown

the country unknown, said I was grown

it said I must have grown taking into account the times I had been blown

it mocked me while I was standing there with the desire to  moan

I couldn’t moan as they said that it was a privilege I had outgrown

so, I just stood there blown, with a broken bone, all alone

 

I guess the life sometimes takes it, just takes it all

when we get too self involved, it makes us feel so small

small so that every minute we get to lift up our head

and witness every story in real that we had once read

 

so, when I stood there blown, with a broken bone, all alone

a magic,  a light was shown

a light, a meaning was shown, with the logic unknown

with the logic unknown, a seed of hope was sown

when the seed of hope was sown, I turned, I made a throne out of the stone…

 

-Khushboo Bhatia

this night, tonight …

this night, tonight, I feel as if a poem is on its way..

this night, tonight, I feel as if there is no more left to say..

this night, tonight, I feel as if the broken would be accepted ..

this night, tonight, I feel as if the the fixes would be rejected..

 

this night, tonight, I dance to the music so slow..

this night, tonight, when the walls watch the show..

this night, tonight, the dreams told me that you’d be here..

this night, tonight, my present is what I used to fear..

 

this night, tonight, I feel peace..

this night, tonight, when the tension seems to ease..

this night, tonight, I wish I could tell this to life..

broken pieces of a thousand dreams, also sometimes heal all the strife..

It is so difficult to write. Sometimes, my words don’t match the intensity of my feelings, and sometimes my feelings change while I append the words to a perfect sentence.

I wish, I really wish that I could write everything down, and just forget. Forget everything that ever occurred, every hope that had once risen, every tear that had fallen… myself, who is now forgotten. I wish … I could do it.

Erasing self out of our self written stories is a tough job.

The end was planned, the end was happy … there were gleaming smiles, heartfelt sorrows, words remain untouched and sentences didn’t have to be completed.

But, now the happiness ended. The gleaming smiles, turned to watery eyes….the words are even today untouched … our sentences could not be completed and sorrow is severely heartfelt.

God! it is a rough game and if you lose, you lose it all. I feel the need of words now, but what would words do when the meaning is lost

Who will tell …

My steps in heaven’s hell
Darkness inside a bright shell
My face lights with eyes dim
I smile sorrowfully or my sorrow smiles
Who will tell?

Magic used to be there around
Every moment had a spell
The careless laughs and tears unfound
Is time the culprit or culprit just was in fleeeting time
Who will tell?

Every word hurts the same
And smiles take all the blame
how do you expect me to make you happy
while I am still crying…
Who will tell?

My steps in heaven’s hell
Darkness inside a bright shell
My face lights with eyes dim
I smile sorrowfully or my sorrow smiles
Who will tell?

©Khushboo Bhatia

What am I meant to be…



When will the paradise and earth meet,
till when should I seek,
I sometimes feel tired to be me,
When in me, myself I don’t see
What then do I want to be?

I laugh, I cry
I say, I shy
I call, I say bye
I give up, I try
I live, I die
For truth, I lie

When you bind me
I dream to be free
When I let you go
It’s just tears and me
To me, it still remains a mystery
What then do I want to be?

Sweetheart, I do cry,
it hurts me to say bye,
even I try,
I am not living,
but without you I’ll die
How can I tell you the truth,
when with myself I lie

When I meet god, he’ll see
for these answers I waited for earth n paradise to meet
it’s me whom I seek
I just wanna know..
What am I meant to be?

© Khushboo Bhatia

Since When …

 

Since when has thinking become so easy
but writing so difficult,
since when has writing become so easy
making erasing so tough,
since when has erasing become a play
but forgetting remains a task,
since when have tears become so easy to understand
and smiles lost it’s meaning
when did the meaning fade out
leaving obscurity gleaming…

When did the conditions become unconditional
changing the implementation of love,
when did love learn a language of words
betraying the eyes and touch,
when did the music become songs
leaving real melodies unheard ,
since when are answers being questioned
with replies so curt,
Since when is death being waited for
because of a life that hurts…

– Khushboo Bhatia