The Night Train of Nagaur

One of my favorite poems written during the precious time spent in Rajasthan.

Anita Bacha

How to tell you,

What is more painful than a blast in the ear,

More painful than a suppressed tear,

More painful than the whistle of a train,I hear;

How to tell you,

Nothing is more painful than your leave,

Feigning that without you I can live;

How to tell you,

What is a beloved without the lover,

Or a lover without the beloved,

Or me without you, or you without me;

How to tell you,

What is the sky without a moon,

Or a moon without the sky,

Or me without you, or you without me.

Anita Bacha

Photo credit -Rajesh Swami

anitabacha.com

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GOA Revisited

Sun glows in blue sky,

Gold ripples dance on the sea –

Time to set the sail.

Colorful fishing boats in Santa Paulo

Young tourist poses,

Older man sips lemonade,

Generation gap.

Sea view point

Humble hatched roof hut,

Lies behind tourist hotel,

Fisherman’s sweet home.

Fisherman’s hut in North Goa

Sun sets at seaside,

Colorful streaks brush the sky,

Footprints in wet sand.

Sundowner in Panaji

Sleek evening ripples,

The sun embraces, lying down –

Romantic season!

Beautiful sunset Santa Paulo

Roses for all seasons

Pretty yellow rose,

Sunbathing in the courtyard,

Intruder fly bites!

Yellow rose London summer

Exquisite pink rose,

Flaunts her fresh,youthful beauty,

In the spring of life.

Garden rose London Spring

In the morning rain,

Bruised dust-pink rose shivers,

On a bed of thorns.

Late summer rose Stratford London

Frail rose bud petals,

Burn in blaze of dry season ,

Thirsting for rain drops.

Rose bud in dry season,Rajasthan

Lush garden roses,

Half-blossom bends to her weight ,

Till the last fold falls!

Summer scarlet rose.Mauritius

Flowers

Just before night falls,

She closes her sleek petals-

Beauty for one day!

Hibiscus flower on the beach of Mauritius

Beautiful flower,

Devoid of sweet redolence-

Queen of the alleys!

Hibiscus flower on coastal area in Goa.

Bees come for honey,

Flowers let down their petals,

On velvety leaves.

Bumble bee and flower in London Summer

The fields speak to me,

Of the fragrance of flowers,

Busy honey bees.

Wild flowers in South Dakota

Old water lily,

Shedding petals on the leaves,

Season comes and goes.

Water lily at Golden Palace, Beijing, China.

INK

Ink leaks from my pen,

Blotchy petals on paper –

I write poesy.

Anita Bacha.

( In the picture, my poetry book INK ! This book consists of 100 love poems and is available in my birth country, Mauritius. It is published by #Éditionsdeloceanindien , a newly- founded publishing house.)

My latest poetry book INK

The Butterfly 🦋

Anita Bacha

THE BUTTERFLY
I sit by my window,
I behold a magic butterfly!
A rainbow butterfly!
Gorgeous hues of red, blue, indigo,
Orange, green, heavenly mauve,
Immaculate yellow,
Fluttering loftily,
Flying stealthily,
Flirting with sweet flowers so lovely!
A discreet kiss on the lips of the white pansy,
A soft caress on the dahlia’s cheek,
A gentle stroke on the red nose of the poppy!
Hibiscus, violets,
Budding marigolds,
Chuckle and open their folds,
Engrossed by the magic butterfly!
A fragrant red rose,
Spreads her velvety petals,
Lingers and whimpers!
In the wilderness, disappears the magic butterfly!

Anita Bacha

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Bouquet of Roses

Bouquet of roses

Dying in porcelain vase

Gross mediocrity

Anita Bacha

Dear readers, I have joined a group of ‘Haiku challenge ‘ on Twitter and today’s challenge is to write a haiku using the word ‘gross’. I love this challenge .Brainstorming, at times ,nerve racking it keeps me going .Hope you like this one . More are on the way.

Bouquet of roses 🥀

True to His Word

True to his word,

He was there, in the park,

Waiting for her,

She halted, looked around,

His words echoed in her ears,

In the morning gentle zephyr,

‘I will be there!’

‘I will be there for you!’

He cried out,

Last time they met and parted;

Stoic, handsome and shy,

Greener against the blue sky,

He smiled under its vast parasol;

The sight of him warmed her heart;

They talked,

They had so much to say to each other;

Then they fell into a deep silence,

It was not love,

It was not happiness,

It was a soul connection.

Anita Bacha

A tree