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I close my eyes and I smile,

I think of my teddy by my side,

How chummy can we be,

Under the shower,

When we lather up each other playfully,

And,slurp the water running down our body;

On the bed,

When we touch every part of each other,

And,discover the joy of connubial intimacy;

Every thought of you,

The vegetable biryani we share,

The ride in the auto in the busy fair,

The transience of our meeting,

When you come home from the city,

The farewell,

When you leave to catch the night train,

The helpless look in your beautiful eyes,

A selfie, a promise to remain truthful,

No matter what, the lure,the pull;

My sweet hubby,

As I sit down to milk the cow in the shed,

I recall I am your Chocolaty milkmaid,

The girl from a faraway village,

In your book of fairies, a page;

Illiterate, I…

Your lips have not touched mine,

Your searing eyes mime,

What your heart cannot hold;

Should I seal with a kiss 😘

Receive your love or dismiss,

What my heart ❤️ cannot hold.

Anita Bacha

Photo credit: Ocean Vibrations

www.anitabacha.com

Roses are blue

Violets are red

Drops of dew

Bust heart bled

Anita Bacha

http://poetryofanitabacha.com

Pressed against his body,

His breath smouldering her neck,

She felt his flower growing,

Impatient,

Wanting,

Growing,

Then melting like sweet honey,

Wetting her wedding sari,

Leaving a broad stain,

And a sweet smell;

Souvenir of a first caress

In a hotel elevator .

Anita Bacha

Writer’s note: The honeysuckle is a sweet smelling flower that grows in bush in many parts of the world. The pink honeysuckle that we find in Japan is the symbol of the bond of love between husband and wife. It also symbolizes devotion, fidelity and generosity.

THE CRYING SLIPPERS

Disconsolate

My legs weak and trembling

I wake up at the break of dawn

The cigarette butts in the ashtray

The lingering stench of marijuana

Laced with the scent of Indian perfumed oil

My wits are missing you

My feet slid sloppily in the slippers

The bunny rabbits offered to you last Easter

I stifle a cry of joy

You have come back, I rejoice

Alas! No!

Forgotten

Left behind clumsily

In front of our wedding bed

The slippers are cold and wet

The slippers are crying

Howling your brutal departure

Bare footed

Your rush to catch the first boat

Away from me

Away from reality

The crying slippers add to my grief

 To the great void in my life

I cannot manage to fill

Void

Emptiness

My heart is in my flames

Put off the fire

Settle the scores

The crying slippers will join

Your razor…

India my land of predilection

You enthrall my soul

A miracle, a benediction

Secret love lived and untold

Memories garnish my aging heart

As I stand on death’s threshold

A spiritual guru who guided my script art

A man who inspired the pen I hold

Land of saints, gods and statues

Disparity, fun, marvel and the unexplained

I carved an image of human values

On the whore, the poor and the betrayed

In my exquisite five stars’ hotel room

I lit an incense stick and I meditate

My life has been an exploration of the gloom

That shrouds the ignorant and the illiterate

My experience of books

Of novels and poems celebrating love

Leaves me insatiate and bleaks my looks

In pages only I find the meaning of ‘love’

Anita Bacha©