Rules

The past is done, certainly,

But bitterness still (within) will rage.

The future is rarely known, indisputably,

But crystal balls persist to pay a wage:

Hope will never die.

The sun will set,

As ice by a flame must thaw,

And moonrise will follow,

For eons has been nature’s law:

What will be, will be.

Receiving hands must exist,

Where there is a giver at loose;

When exists a destroyer,

Someone, necessarily, must produce:

Everything has an exact and equal contradiction.

A child will always acknowledge mother’s milk,

As everyone can feel tired and hungry,

Anybody is glad when truly loved,

And no one can understand life entirely:

We all consist of the same energy at the end of the day.

Thus we are, and all of everything is,

Never overlook this-

We cannot be alone,

Until the day we say, the sun shone;

Nothing is constant,

Even as naught will change,

The way sound is always sound,

-Although the pitch and tone can range…

These are life’s truths,

And to them we must abide:

These are the only legitimate rules,

We cannot ever deny.

-Khushboo Shah

12/03/08

Black, White and Grey

When the years loose color,

Time, measure null-

Memories, hither,

Sweet still, just dull;

Beckoning yet,

Some only to forget,

Some to remember,

But sentiment runs for cover.

Black; dark and brooding,

Yet, ‘tis somehow, alluring:

Those livid gasps, frightened of feeling,

When lost is love, and existence reeking-

Those jaded nights of insecurity,

When living is akin to pillory,

Those quiet nightmares, silence screaming,

When kisses strike, and mirth is weeping.

Grey; unsure and vague,

Still, ‘tis constant, straight:

Those moments, alone, but calm and shy,

When ambiguity provides the most solace-

Those encounters with faith, void of requisition,

When everything seems out of position,

Those fearless, ageless, tests of endurance,

When potency is no measure and sight is no assistance.

White; pure and whole,

Yet, ‘tis comprised of myriad fragments of every color:

Those specks of frozen time, of bliss, of valor,

When light shone through the densest cloud:

Those leaps of joy, in kind and solid venture,

When every arrow pointed to darkness alone,

Those sways of judgment, falling ultimately to intuition,

When no one believed in those (consuming) throes of passion…

A tale told in grayscale,

A tiny black and white Polaroid:

Of an entire life,

Of validation, of negation;

Discarding the scarlet, cerulean, and emerald,

(The anger, dejection and envy)

A concise, but still precise, version of a story-

Black, White and Grey…

-Khushboo Shah

14/01/2008

Bleeding Hearts

Red, like the blood they shed,

Red, stains on torn frocks and little hands-

Red drops ablaze, on the pale glass sand.

Red like their rosy cheeks,

Red- flushed, tired and hungry,

Red, as they bleed, to defer their agony.

Red, the evening sun shines,

Red, kites we buy and fly:

-Red, to conceal, and toss their pain up high.

Red, their fury,

Red, vicious flames of fear,

Red, telling of danger near.

Red, as the baby’s eyes,

Red, the tears it cries,

Red- beckoning his sister, ‘take me inside’.

Red, the pain she feels,

Red, as the strings she holds,

Red, as her skin’s bleeding folds.

Red, as the sharp dust that flies,

Red, as the long closed eyes of many a friend,

Red, when will their tryst come to an end?

Red, as the fine powder in grandma’s palm,

Red, the hypocrisy in my joined hands,

Red, as a rose they will never see again.

Red, our dancing fingers flying kites,

Red, from much wear and sweat,

Red, from obliviously pulling the strings their blood once wet.

-Khushboo Shah

2/1/2008

The Small Things in Life

A humble commencement,

A tiny offering,

A minute gesture in sentiment,

A little love in passing:

A baby, all small and sweet,

A twinkle, short-lived, not weak,

A smile, effortlessly immense,

A lie, a moment, but oh so tense!

A silent wish,

An ephemeral giggle,

A quiet swish,

An imperceptible riddle:

A look, so brief, yet so lucrative,

A word, succinct but still imperative,

A sigh, so minute, still so significant;

A star, magnificent, just a little distant…

A peck of love,

A trickle of rain,

A soaring dove,

A sting of pain:

A blush, so sudden and so telling,

A kiss, so simple, yet so compelling,

A brush, so fleeting but still so cherished,

A pebble, so small, still never perished.

A ray of hope,

A spark of passion,

A gleam of life,

A slice of heaven:

The joy and the strife;

-The small things in life.

-Khushboo Shah

7/12/07

The Religion That Isn’t

A flaming Cross,

Of fear and strife,

A cold Candle,

That freezes life.

A judging Crescent,

Ablaze with bias and disdain:

Why can’t we choose not to choose?

-To remain stable and sane.

Emotions dictate,

Never really any prophet or saint:

For we only pick shades,

With which we want to paint.

Everything can be justified,

And everything cannot,

One word against another,

Conflict is thus wrought.

Rules can be broken without shame,

But conviction always shines through;

Where blind faith is impersonal-

True love and care defines you.

Religions shed blood and tears,

Awareness and trust neither,

Ink fades to dust or runs with showers,

But belief remains with one ever after.

Look into your heart,

Not into a statue’s harsh eyes,

Live life, true and fulfilling,

Not obedience, and to yourself lie.

-Khushboo Shah

6/12/2007

The Good in Every Heart

To see Mankind,

In solely one light:

His unabated, glorious, bright:

That gave their lives meaning.


Can it be expected?

Oh Seat so mighty and high,

That we could, with relief, just once sigh!

Seeing this world left with want for intolerance.


To not assume our reflections harsh;

To stare without distrust at our neighbor’s lair,

To be satisfied that the world is indeed fair-

For it would but give our own hearts delight.


Circumspection is most tiring,

And what a way it has!

Of replacing every sweet word with sass,

In conversation that was meant to be joyful.


Oh and to see the good in every heart!

For each soul has some, certainly:

The lion must hunt or perish, is slaughter thus, still unholy?

It would but, make our worlds a little brighter.


Not to uphold your will against another’s,

For this will but create conflict and ignorance,

And only conscious strides can ensure abundance:

-Of hope, trust, reliance and true life.


Perhaps idealism can be drawn too far,

But then, perhaps it isn’t;

Perhaps the world is just too active (or even indolent),

But unquestionably, it is not evil.


Could we not try?

To hear another’s pain and struggle,

To understand they ask for mere survival;

All it needs is love, and gentle, not imperative, tenacity.


Is it too much, to ask for effort?

Is it too much, to dream of excellence?

Apparently, it is, and apparently, it isn’t.


-Khushboo Shah
18/11/2007

Dark Light

Dark environs subsist within me,

Even as I flood myself with light…

Here I am blinded by shadows,

Here, by sight.

Clarity prevails,

Obscured only by obscurity

Ambiguity is ubiquitous,

Coherence arrives through that.

Knowledge is all that there is,

Has been or will be,

Choices must be made,

For better or worse.

Perpetuity is ever altering,

Varying, morphing, evolving…

Yet eternally still,

Ceaselessly constant.

Contradiction may seem at surface,

But the true eye shall see no conflict;

Uncertainty survives,

Without it living isn’t living,

Nor life, life.

-Khushboo Shah,

February 22^nd, 2006

* Dark Light is a contradiction.

Who’s to Blame?

This world defies,

And no one really knows why.

I scale the skies,

With my unsighted eyes,

And I realize:

Though our thoughts seem deep,

Sometimes our dreams creep,

Out and infiltrate,

Our world becomes so fake.

Is money all it’s about?

Is it wrong scream and shout?

To feel angry and to despair:

When you see ‘em…

In their designer wear,

Sipping martinis,

And pretending to care.

She seems like a mirage,

The perfect girl,

With the perfect walk.

She’s thinner than thin,

Almost non-existent,

She’s always in,

Never inconsistent.

She’ll never really care,

As long as she gets those:

Long and envious stares,

She’s every man’s one desire,

Passion embodied in a cold fire.

And what happened to true love?

When did sixteen stop being sweet?

When did people stop looking above?

No one hears the lonely tweet,

Of a beautiful bird, on an empty street.

We’re all too busy,

Lost in a dream:

A nightmare of sorts,

With hate and greed not knowing seams…

The world is in pain,

And we don’t even care.

We see hunger,

But we don’t share!

It’s all so unreal,

And though we claim,

It’s not just me:

We’re all to blame.

-Khushboo Shah

9/1/2007

In Her Wake

Fragmented lives,

And broken wholes,

False convictions wield the knives,

That ravage our multitude of souls.

Lives divided into mere moments,

A planet divided into grains of earth:

History leaves us but mere remnants,

Of an existence complete at birth.

That existence, now assailed and brittle,

By countless fools, attempting to besiege the hold of Cybele;

Blind to the truth that we cannot allege any chattel:

For we’re hers even snow-pale, stiff and silent, hers: utterly.

But we may yet let true life return,

If united in effort and imagination,

Combined forever to learn,

Respect and awe for all creation.

Blessed with an earth intact to love and hone,

Not a mosaic of lands upon which we lay our claim,

We are but one part of a whole, which we cannot own-

Care for all, the ground everywhere is ours- and the same.

Memorize that no war yet seen has rested arid,

With want for sweat, blood or tear;

And live, no union ever did-

Without a trace of gladness near…

Peace we summon,

And our need is great-

Peace we beg,

Redeem us of hate-

Peace we submit to,

Live in her wake:

Of light, song, beauty, calm and love.

-Khushboo Shah

19/9/07

* Cybele (Sibuhlee): The Phrygian goddess of nature of ancient Asia Minor.

Pregnant With Desire

Love and light,

In unsteady flight-

Forced, in fear,

By eyes, so near,

I pray again,

Oh light, do send:

Bless me; shed this decaying skin,

Deliver me; born anew, of a brighter kin.

Towers tall, so strong and sound,

Unshaken by wind, hail and storm-

Give me their steadfastness,

Light, I beg- give me one scar less,

But leave one to hark me back- oh, the pain:

Let not indecision seep in, over again.

As the arms of delirium come forward in embrace,

And the lips of lust kiss my face,

Insatiable inquisitiveness now takes over,

A rush ensues, in apparent race-

And then the sting- so raw and bitter,

Light, I am chastised, and for the better.

But I urge, oh Light, do provide,

That this lesson is forever remembered,

That it shall never meander, nor hide;

And into the crevices of my mind surrendered-

The memory of a filth that overcame,

Rushed in and almost remained:

Spreading, as does with wind the forest's fire,

Leaving my soul-

Pregnant, with desire.

-Khushboo Shah

19/09/07

Lost In Translation

Misty waters whirl around,

Transparency: further dispelled,

All it took was transient contact,

Ripples and ripples, succeeding in cataleptic slumber-

Which were begun, by but a diminutive yearning,

Longing, that numbs the conscious.

And then, again, the same touch would awaken:

A thousand minds in rapid succession,

Unity in utter independence-

Where awareness brings hopeful venture;

One mind, must instigate,

One heart- must set them in action.

Energy in its eternal and pious concentration,

Passing through a coarse coexistence-

Saturating and disappearing,

Sometimes in distraught squander,

Where souls annihilate:

-In mirthful ignorance- usurped by insanity.

This miasma, now overwhelms,

And clarity is involuntarily beckoned,

Seeking its connotation- in what it is not;

Realizing- reality would halt in absence of denial;

Questioners now question:

-Tearing all meaning apart.

Where is this planet?

Soaked in ludicrousness-

And somehow, still, ostensibly rational.

Where be my kin, I, even?

In relentless flurry-

Magical, still, limited and bound.

Lost in desire?

Lost in faith?

Lost in love?

Lost in hate?

Emotions, words:

People, worlds:

Lost, in translation…

-Khushboo Shah

6/7/07

Creations’ Death

Onwards upon this strange behest,

The everlasting earths’ one call,

I walk with the fear of failing my quest:

Lest mine be a true soul’s true fall;

For in this feral void of disaster,

Lay those dispelled by the lone eraser-

His black sorcery to continue,

His perfect balance to review and renew,

They put most in plight-,

Allow few the gift of flight,

Dark that arises from the light:

Myriad shadows through myriad suns-

Banished, nevertheless His own sons.

With pain and delusion came the first day,

And their lightless life was ticking away-

When He turned to His punishing face,

Turned existence into a race,

Imprisoned minds in heaven and hell:

And with a vortex of lies He does quell.

How can I call such my father?

When I love one and another?

Paths do fork, and may have mislead,

Many a traveler may perish in dread:

Unsure of which path to tread…

Angels who rebelled against-

But angels still in their core essence,

Questioning can not be a sin,

So why’ve we been lead, to expel it from within?

Which true being, angel or mortal-

Would ever restrict, the flow of nature,

Would ever unsteady, her ancient anchor?

Remember love, and forget sin-

Mistakes are natural, embrace nature,

And search within.

Conscious steps lead to freedom,

Truth is and truth will enlighten:

Recall these words when in dark despair,

And tell your tale, but tell it fair.

-Khushboo Shah

20/3/07

(Inspired by Philip Pullman’s ‘His Dark Materials’ Trilogy.)

Lost Tales of Love and War

Tales untold,

Profound, bitter,

Curtained by shadows,

Veiled in mist,

Lost in dim expanses-

Now unfurl,

Before my eyes,

Unheard voices,

Speak over again,

Forgotten scenes recalled,

Neglected oaths considered;

Is elucidation to come?

Or are we to remain,

Shrouded in eternal darkness?

Once more…

Wars resumed over mislaid causes,

Aged romances roused,

Conquered fear is yet liberated-

Unimpeded, entering our souls,

But with it overlooked joy is reinstated,

And lost hope is found.

Fiery eyes,

Stare once again,

Evil without reason;

And Angels rise,

Untainted and pure,

Flowing like fresh water,

Spreading love as they flow.

One is all and one will remain,

Love is and love overcame,

War rises, from but love,

Hate would not be, but for love;

Love relates as love sees,

Love calls as love feels,

Love shatters as love builds,

Love confronts, as she shields.

These tales tell much,

But they achieve much more:

Memories can reduce you to tears,

Legends make strong hearts sore,

And soft words are sufficient to dispel most fears…

-Khushboo Shah

17/5/2006

All Alone

She flowered on her own,

Blossomed all alone-

The wind, the sun,

Stars and sky,

Now assist, now belie.

She was mislead,

Eschewed in times of need-

Searching for a true friend,

Her spirit spent in deed.

Still she offered, with love in elation:

Without the slightest consideration-

She shared her beauty,

She spread her fragrance:

Without any discrimination-

She struggled, she strived,

But she never carped:

She was betrayed,

Over and over again,

Yet she always forgave-

In sweet song, never lament…

They spoke a word,

But she heard a tale,

They blew her a breeze,

But she took on a gale-

They gave her a drop,

In effort to place her a stop,

But she sent back a sea,

To tell them she’ll always be.

She stood by and with her essence,

Unleashed her soul: admitting its presence,

With each new night a new day is sought,

For each new trial a new battle is fought,

Seeing each new task a new tool is wrought-

With or without a helping hand,

What must be, will be and will withstand;

With respect and awe,

Or rejection and censure-

She will occur- polished or raw,

She will exist and she will endure.

That one who flowered on her own-

That one who blossomed all alone-

That one is stronger than king,

With all his court and with his queen:

That one will smile in times of anguish,

That one will believe and she’ll never wish.

-Khushboo Shah

27/2/2007

A Heart

In love, in hope:

A heart will cope,

Abandoned and misheard,

A heart will hurt-

Calm as she can be,

A heart can only see-

Observe and let go,

Let her inner identity show.

Countless mistakes,

It’s only in disquiet that terror rakes-

A heart might regret,

And long to forget;

But this heart denies itself escape-

These feet shall tread:

Each pace left in their wake,

This corpse its’ coffin shall shed,

And build itself a new way:

Rouse the world to a new day.

Perfidy was bound,

To a heart that touches so many lives,

But was this heart the only one found?

Coerced to abandon all her strives.

Life is never asked for,

While death is beckoned by some:

A gift to one, but a curse to another-

We can bloom, hence we can wither.

Yet there remains one constant,

Intellect toils and intellect records,

The Game is played and will always be,

A heart can rebel, but she’ll always see-

The Game is cruel as are those it does caress:

Sacrifice is seldom noticed,

And love still less…

A heart can listen and still disobey,

A heart can shine, even if it’s the only ray:

This heart will resist, this life will persist,

This heart shall always venture-

Forgive without blinking once,

Open her arms and never clutch,

Let any come or go as they will-

And she’ll never limit-

Naught is too little, or is too much:

A heart does love, and look above-

This heart will be,

Not more not less-

As a heart should be,

Without doom and without cess.

-Khushboo Shah

26/2/2007

*cess: Irish for luck, possibly an abbreviation for success (The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition)

An Ode to True Love

I scan these faint expanses,

The stretches of my dreams,

For a certain pair of eyes,

A look whose haunt knows no seams-

And though a little bit of me cries,

Wishing your hand was closer to mine,

Nothing, not a million miles,

Nor an everlasting gap in time:

Can douse the fire that burns inside…

I’d give all I have,

Except that now I have naught-

Even my heart isn’t mine,

It’s found the home it always sought.

I’ll shower you in loves’ first light,

Blinding bright, till death I sight-

Weave a wave of peace around,

So that your voice is the only sound-

Terrorize time to wait awhile,

So this embrace can last a bit longer-

Squeeze the world to make it smaller,

So we’d be a just a little closer-

Mold a crystal mound to trap us both,

Just so we should never crumble away-

Take an eternal oath of trust,

To prove this love: if I must…

A promise in my truest words,

To share all I have in joy and tryst,

To care and to commit,

To forget and to forgive-

To never lie, in struggle nor strife,

Only as yours will I part with life.

I say a little prayer tonight,

Let love last and never die-

Let each new moon bring new tales,

But each new sun keep these unchanged:

The heart that I reach out for,

The call of which I’m always sure,

One smile that can warm an ocean,

One touch of resurrection-

A bond that was and will always be,

A pair of eyes I’ll always see.

-Khushboo Shah

12/2/2007

A Sweet Nuance

This world has gone obscure,

Treacherous times I’m forced to endure-

Lost in a thick mist of deception,

A ruse that engulfed an entire existence;

And the gift of humble acceptance,

Is all that imparts this strength of resistance-

Without which this soul might fade,

Like crimson deigning to screens of jade,

Or it might merge into a world of silently diminishing lives,

Feigning laughter for each tear it cries.

I call out into the shadows,

For an Angels’ willing hand:

A bright face that would elucidate,

A sweet heart that would understand-

A mind that would see me as I am,

And not as the illusion in their mind’s eye,

Of what they’d rather I be- a piece of their world’s land.

And I all I’m accountable of,

Is trusting with my eyes closed-

For gentleness and innocence,

For not being what the world’s imposed.

An iridescent speck of crimson,

Misunderstood for being nonconforming,

From love emerges this rhythm,

To offer hope this longing.

Where doth the pattern fit this sweet nuance?

In this silhouette overridden by bold tones-

How doth scarlet hide in black and white?

Is there no place she can call home?

-Khushboo Shah

12/2/2007

Life- Just Is.

We look, but do we see?

We are, but can we be?

So much of this world,

Is but a riddle-

So many of our thoughts,

Are only notes of our mind’s fiddle-

We live and we die,

We laugh, we cry;

And in this maze- of peace and war,

Even though we’ve come so far,

We forget one imperative detail:

The turning point, in this winding tale:

Life- just is.

Joy is momentary,

Sorrow is spent,

Love is eternal,

And hatred will relent.

It’s plain, it’s simple,

Keep it so-

The past will haunt,

Unless you let it go:

The present is current,

And may vanish soon,

So don’t assume and don’t presume-

Given that you might just miss:

Sense the world, and its humbling kiss:

Life- just is.

So long, so little,

Thoughts are so brittle-

So slight, so much,

Passion’s tingling touch-

Youth and zeal,

Age and wisdom,

These you can only feel-

And not imagine…

Dreams are but dreams,

And only reality draws seams:

Voice and vision,

Define a realm-

Don’t lose your person-

In blind contempt,

Nor in sighted devotion:

Take things as they are:

Life- just is.

-Khushboo Shah

26/1/2007

Desperate Callings

Nothing is, for nothing was,

My life is but- your cruel law;

I can’t forget,

You can’t forgive:

And now I cease to exist.

Laugh it off,

Because I’m nothing,

Just a stain,

On a pure white cloth:

Lost in pain,

Denying the way you’ve always fought.

You say you care,

You want to share,

That your mother’s words hurt-

She called you names,

You say you don’t,

But you play the same games,

And change- you won’t.

Your words to you may seem true,

But the names to your mother, they were too.

Don’t you see- the fights still sting,

I feel you there- and trying to wring:

Every bit of life and spirit left in me.

You say it ached;

To see contradiction,

To feel loathed,

To be subjected- to subjection.

Yet somehow, you justify-

Each and all of your crimes;

You tear my soul, into a million pieces,

You jab at my heartfelt rhymes-

You trap me in your blind devices,

And fault me for a private crisis.

Still I love, from within and without:

Even as you scream and shout,

Believe it or don’t-

You have always and always will:

Mean and have meant more to me:

Than you can ever imagine-

In my soul, I see my direction,

I need support, benediction-

But if you remain, forbidding and vetoing,

I listen and I submit.

-Khushboo Shah,

26/1/07

Retrospection

This soul knows the pain in longing,

And the anguish in remembrance,

The fury when one’s trust is shattered,

And the hopelessness of hope…

It knows the despair in stringing out reason,

It knows the vindictiveness of love,

It knows the rage of an innocent child,

It knows the repentance in turning to Him above.

Presently it reclines, in a world that’s dead-

Withered roses, that once bloomed in red:

Lost crystals of its mind's eye:

On winding paths, it’ll always fear to tread.

The longing was warranted,

The remembrance inevitable:

The trust was handed willfully;

And the hope was never reliable.

Retrospection as always- quiet but there,

Born out of rightful consequence;

Deaf to what its actions held,

It plunged in: without heeding its conscience.

Never again, will this soul give in,

Never again, will this heart perish in sin,

Never again, will it share its trust:

Never again, for it knows what it must.

Strength does evade,

As do visions,

Both plain and plaid-

Crisscrossed and fraught with explanations…

This soul, cloaked in mist-

This soul -will always persist,

This soul, has memorized-

Each certainty: and every lie.

-Khushboo Shah

16/1/2007

Questions and Contemplations

Living; a succession,

Of actions and events,

Of love and delusion,

And their consequence.

Of hope and trust,

Of blunder and fate,

It never concludes,

For it never commenced.

People and places,

Vanish into a labyrinth that astounds;

Belief and imagination,

So intimately bound.

Creativity created,

And the tale still weaves,

With twists, with turns,

And wonder and strife-

Drawing everything that is and exists,

Into a vortex: a whirlwind called life.

It seems so bizarre,

To be living,

Hanging on the brink,

Of such a slight chance.

Life is a word,

That someone defined:

Tell me, if it remained unheard,

Would each breath we take, still keep us alive?

I question who we are,

But slaves of our own making?

Ruled by restrictions,

Created ourselves?

Imprisoned by emotions,

We’ve defined ourselves?

And restricted by time,

We measure ourselves?

Would we die if we were never alive?

Could we sing without knowing music?

Could we see without knowing sight?

And would we be wrong, if we were never right?

Oh, this world is curious,

Disguised as nude,

But in truth is cloaked;

In attempt to elude:

Skeptical minds,

And wandering souls-

For they remain detached,

From her earth: her soil and water,

Instead they seek something deeper,

They tear her apart, not feeling her pain,

They search her for meaning,

Not knowing she has none,

They remain, as they are:

unsighted, naïve and unassuming…

-Khushboo Shah

4/1/2007

Small Wonders

Tiny steps, tiny revelations,

A voyage for a destination,

An experience for an anecdote,

An empire for an emperor,

A tune for a song,

A man for a mother;

One gave birth to the other.

Little insights, little implications,

Darkness for illumination,

A commencement for a conclusion,

A right for a wrong,

A friend for a foe,

A lover for a lover;

Neither could survive without the other.

All life’s lessons, all life’s joys,

Minute but immense,

Seemingly trivial,

But of colossal consequence,

Disguised as they be,

So easy to miss,

Appear and vanish ignored,

Like the fresh flourish of springs’ first kiss.

The ardor of sweet nothings whispered by someone close,

The warmth of the fleeting sun on a cold day,

The beauty of a blooming rose,

The strength of water trying to make its way;

The conviction in a child’s smiling eyes,

The heartening touch of those we treasure and adore,

The intuitive faith in those bonded by blood-ties,

And the wonder in watching an eagle soar…

-Khushboo Shah

22/09/2006

The most beautiful things in (my) life:

The most beautiful things in (my) life:

• Making someone smile
• Letting chocolate melt in your mouth when you’re depressed
• Looking into someone’s eyes and knowing what they’re thinking about
• Sweet surprises
• Giving a little beggar girl on the street your ice cream even though you're dehydrated and scorched in the sun, and seeing her face light up with limitless delight
• Falling in love
• Getting what you’ve been wishing for your last seven birthdays
• Getting high on air (its not impossible if you’re in love, trust me :P)
• Waking up next to someone you love
• Your favorite blanket on a cold day
• Getting nine calls one after another with almost no gaps in between
• Listening to old songs on dada’s lap, knowing there isn’t gonna be another fight
• Actually being able to relate to your grandma (it isn’t all that difficult… just takes a lot of time and patience :).)
• Finding chocolate in you’re purse when you’re looking for a strip of panadol
• Surprising Mim with the pearl earrings she’s wanted for so long
• Watching a kid’s movie with your little brothers when you should be studying
• Holding hands and walking down … anywhere really
• To be given flowers for no reason at all
• Listening to an old favorite you’d forgotten all about
• Swimming at six in the morning in the middle of December
• Smelling freshly baked cakes
• A friend calling just when you’re about to call them
• Loving someone though you know they’d never care (there’s something in it.. don’t know how to explain)
• Understanding that it’s perfectly normal to love everyone you meet with all your heart and soul.
• Ice cream and hot chocolate
• To be all alone, with nothing to do (it can be fun sometimes…)
• Getting over the one person you thought you never would get over (sorta gets nullified when you realize your not over them the next second… but all the same!)
• Finding your favorite top at the back of your cupboard when you have nothing to wear
• Being with newborn babies and puppies… and kittens! (Rabbits as well… anything newborn in fact, even rats… I swear their cute! :P )
• Having someone tell you how beautiful you look
• Hearing that your crush likes you back
• Riding a bike really, really fast in the middle of the night
• Being wished on your birthday by someone you thought would definitely forget
• Having someone tell you they love you, and mean it
• Giving your brother ice-cream just after he’s had a terrible scolding from dada
• Caring really and truly for anyone
• Paying full and complete attention to someone
• Feeling sixteen even though your not
• Counting all the good things in life and noticing how they never end

~Khushi~

Drift Away Into the Whole

Beauty evident in everyway,

Selfless mindless yet full of heart,

Brimming with love,

Shared without need of being repaid.

Listen without your ears,

See with your heart,

Think by feeling,

Observe, it’s a start.

Peace unadulterated joy,

Discover it within,

Let your being sing openly,

Don’t shy, be wholehearted,

Release yourself of pessimism.

Distinguish your life,

Sense your soul,

Feel special, be beautiful,

Lose yourself to love,

Drift away, into the whole…

-Khushboo Shah

8^th July, 2005

** This poem means the world to me. It was my second real poem. (After all the childish attempts at poetry...) I think it says everything I'd ever want to say. Tell me what you think, and where I can improve.

Folly and Fun

Staring into empty spaces,

Mounds of opal beauty,

I find my life mirrored:

In a thousand crystal shreds.

Each reflection absorbs a void,

Elapsed memories evoked,

Both for the better and the worse.

Looking back once more,

The pain and the joy,

Searching back again,

For new questions;

And finding old ones countered.

Discovering those soulful melodies,

Hanging in the air,

Amid forgotten dances,

My heart pines to beckon.

A zillion steps taken,

Although I feel the wear of but one;

A zillion words spoken,

Yet I sense the consequence of but one.

Walking through this atrium,

Of my past and present,

Foretelling my future,

With these million crystal balls.

I’m brimming with wonder,

Amazed at what I’ve done,

Fourteen years of folly,

Fourteen years of fun…

-Khushboo Shah,

11^th March, 2006

**Just random nothingness... Was thinking of life... Please, please tell me what you think of it!

Random Poems

Long Nights and Fresh Beginnings…

Bursts of lightning lacerate the blue,

Stars are veiled dreading identification,

The lone light is accompanied by thunder,

And neon streaks are all I can go by…

Why do I feel the earth is breaking, before my eyes?

Is it just His vengeance?

Or is it something else?

Why won’t She stop her elegy?

Doesn’t she know,

Tears are contagious…

I know it’ll all be over,

But the child inside exposes,

And I’m filled with terror…

Searching for cover,

Though I don’t really need it.

Oh for the night to be over!

Morning just broke,

Echoing the first light,

Drenched in dew,

Sunk in radiance…

A fresh start,

My fears are washed away,

Once more.

Rough times always make the good seem better,

Warmth always makes the cool colder;

Fright is always pursued by respite,

Just as tears are chased by joy:

And long nights by new beginnings…

-Khushboo Shah,

March 9^th, 2006

** I don't know why, but I tend to get scared at the weirdest times... This is kind of a description of that. Comment! Please!

The Land of Noor

Twinkle on, twinkle on,

O Star as bright as only Thou can be,

O Star of Divinity.

Light up your land,

She calls for you,

As the veil of eternal darkness,

Slowly engulfs her.

The veil that must be lifted,

Lifted to reveal a land of vitality,

A land of sheer beauty.

This is the tale of a land,

Once called the land of the night,

A land which has since transformed,

Into the land of Noor

The land of light.

A land of life,

A land of vivacity,

A land of colors,

A land of the element water,

Its garb white streaked with aqua.

A land that radiates your light,

A land that revels in your essence,

The essence of purity,

A land that is, and will always be.

Twinkle on, twinkle on,

O Star as bright as only Thou can be

O Star of Divinity

-Khushboo Shah
25^th March 2005

**My first poem. Was inspired by Jamila Gavins' Bloodstone. Lots of editing happened after the original version. Please let me know if I should do anymore!

Saniya, The moment...

Saniya….

Eternally transitory,

All at once, so short-lived.

Passing, fleeting, ephemeral,

Never waiting…

Death, Birth, Dawn, Dusk…

Under no circumstances delay,

Never linger,

They come and go, unannounced.

Joy, sorrow, euphoria, desolation…

Each momentary, about to be gone.

Yet, we dwell on them,

We look for what has departed,

Instead of looking at what has come.

Time, occasion, circumstance;

Inexorable, unavoidable, unpredictable,

Forever progressing,

Moments, instants, saniya,

Arrive; only to depart…

-Khushboo Shah

2005-07-26

In The River of Time

Savor every moment,

Each is invaluable in itself,

Pack each one with ecstasy,

Live each to its extreme…

Flow with each instant,

In the river of time.

Sense these moments,

Dissolve in them,

Let your persona

Absorb their spirit,

Let your core,

Relish in them.

Live like so,

Never complain,

For each instant,

Passed in worry,

Is a moment gone;

Gone forever.

Every hour is but a second,

Rejoice in each second,

And discover,

You’ve celebrated life…

It’s never too late,

Go ahead, begin today,

Become aware of yourself,

Embark on a journey,

A journey to bliss

Flow with each instant,

In the river of time…

-Khushboo Shah

9^th July, 2005

**Time is such a momentous thing... Do comment.

Through her tune...

Her voice rings out,

Loud, clear, intense.

Yet sweet, flowing, magical.

She mesmerises you,

Finding the path to your core,

Her melody saturates you.

She looks through you,

You cannot delude her,

She sees with her spirit,

She voices divinity.

And with her song,

She spreads her passion, her umang.

She penetrates your meaning,

And shows you who you are,

Unobtrusively, delicately;

She infuses her soul with yours,

She assists you,

In your quest to bliss.

Her tone is soft, smooth, resolute,

Her pitch neither high nor low,

She sings with heart,

Moving you,

Taking you in entirely,

Through her tune…

-Khushboo Shah

26^th July, 2005.

She dances through the night…

With verve, with vigor,

Dynamic perpetually,

She dances…

Dances through the night.

Lucid and clear,

Prominent, sanguine,

She dances with fervor,

Her movements supple,

Adorned with zeal.

Her art is her passion,

She plays with it,

Commencing with devotion,

And moving forward,

In abstract progression.

Distinction is her goal,

Nothing less, nor more;

She is novel, innovative,

Her art is creation; she creates.

She voyages the worlds,

Indicating, her presence,

Her dance,

And its soulful tranquility.

And concurrently,

She shelters her art,

Protecting its child-like innocence,

Its unmatched elegance,

Its poise, its structure,

With voiceless confidence.

She dances…

Dances through the night.

Khushboo Shah

8^th July, 2005

**Music and Dance. Two of the most important things in my life.

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Whispers of a Dying Life

I peer through my rose glasses,

But the world still seems dim-

My dreams are vanquished,

Surrounded by unseen spreads of terror,

As I search for an escape,

From this shattered existence...

Silent words,

Which are spoken-

Without ever touching my lips;

Tell a tale, of a dying life,

Whose pages burn,

Tear stained and worn-

I watch on as they brightly blaze before me.

The flames engulf,

Brutal and untiring,

A tale forever vanishes:

As I erase myself from eternity.

And all that remains,

Are scattered whispers of a lost soul,

Whose presence swims in empty spaces,

Wandering through her endless night,

Pining for an invisible day…

-Khushboo Shah

15/6/2006