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!
With a magic splash of fresh paints, Trees and plants Grim and dark, With a spark Into emerald green, are changed, Donned is the sky in glistening blue, Splendid and meek, the golden sun Flirts jauntily, Budding flowers kissing delicately Coaxing beauty in the fun; As spring plays with colors, With the melodious songs of birds, With the waltz of cheery butterflies, With the noble heart of man, New hopes, like fresh petals unbolt, Blossoming gaily in the garden of life.
The grains of sand tickle my feet, I close my eyes, Is it you, my sweet Lord, Filling my soul with vibes divine? The sea amorously laps my toes, I close my eyes, Is it you, my sweet Lord, Sending cosmic waves down my spine? As I stroll down the shore ‘I have caressed His Feet! ‘whispers the sand; ‘I have kissed His toes!’ murmurs the sea, You walk with me, my sweet Lord!Anita Bacha
How to tell you, What is softer than the skin of a baby, Softer than the feel of snow, Softer than the petals of a rose, How to tell you, Nothing is softer than your hand, Lying under my cheek, When I sleep; How to tell you, What is a hand without warmth, Or warmth without a hand, Or a 🌹without petals, Or petals without a 🌹, Or me without you,or you without me.
Photo credit: Anita Bacha.
This is the third poem entitled ‘How to tell you’ that I have penned down. I thought my readers would be confused to read (3) in the title. Enjoy! The picture was shot by me at the wedding of my friend, the groom,in Rajasthan. His hand decorated with henna in the picture. I am using the picture to illustrate my poem. There is no connection between the poem and the picture.
Going down High Street,Olympia, My heart overflows with nostalgia; On tree tops, I behold, Blossoms of green and gold; At the London Book Fair, Writers and poets fare; In the pages of each book, I delve and I look, Your name is engraved, By the invisible hand of God.
Sad to learn that the world greatest book event, the London Book Fair 2020 is cancelled. I have been visiting the fair stoically for the last five years to exhibit my poetry book and this is where I met the publisher of my debut children’s book The Princess and the Crow in 2016. I was craving to see my book on the shelves of Austin Macauley London. As we say in French ‘l’homme propose, Dieu dispose!’ I, however, salute the decision of the Reeds Exhibition to cancel the event.Better safe than sorry. I look forward to the London Book Fair 2021 with added zeal and ‘ si Dieu le veut’ with a brand new book.