I'm Sherna Khambatta. I am currently in University in Bombay, India. Writing poetry is my hobby.




Crossing the Line of Control

As day turns into night
from dusk to dawn
man strives for a better 'morrow
The cold harsh reality of life engulfs him on waking
shattering his dreams whilst asleep
From ashes & bones stem life
from plasma & trees people survive
Yet hatred erupts into war
war leading to destruction
Of all good or evil
The good perish, their flesh burns , the smell of death looms in the air
A baseless war fought
People beyond the border the same as us though separated physically not culturally
Both living in fear
Fear of nuclear ammunition
Fear of not being able to live in harmony,
Crossing the line of control- ends life!


Copyright 2000 by Sherna Khambatta




We All Sleep Alone

All the people who sleep alone tonight,
Do not fear
For if you are far from the person you love,
In time you will be together again.
The empty bed,
No hand to hold left nor right.
Know & believe that you are not alone
The entire globe shares your fears.
For sooner or later,
We all sleep alone.


Copyright 2000 by Sherna Khambatta




Those Lost Though Not Forgotten

The tomb of the unknown soldier draws millions,
The men for whom it was erected- faceless names
Their families grieve.
Through the wreath placed daily
The unknown soldiers sacrifice lives on;
The sacrifice of life
That greater than love.
Life given for one's country,
For one's people...
Respected & never forgotten.


Copyright 2000 by Sherna Khambatta




Solitude

I sit here on a mountain peak,
surveying all that surrounds my being.
I peer at the painting;
colours of different hues, unfold beneath my very eyes.
The river meanders and penetrates into the mighty ocean.
It's placidity into waves
the still lake spreads it's calm waters,
where the evening star alights the sky.
A top of the mountain, dusk still throws a ray of light.
The moon peeps out & glorifies the horizon.
To this scene, my indifferent soul cannot be bound.
I feel neither charm nor ecstasy
The sun of the living,
Brightening up their souls brings no warmth to me.
What do Palaces, valleys & cottages hold for me?
They are mere structures with nothing to offer.
For solitude alone is so dear.


Copyright 2000 by Sherna Khambatta