Automne 🍂 – Poésie de Anita Bacha

Autumn is the best time of the year for poets to jot down love poems inspired by the beauty and caprice of Nature

L’automne survient comme une sorcière dans mon jardin

Le ciel couvre d’un épais manteau gris le soleil du matin

Coups de balai, feuilles et fleurs s’envolent en tourbillon

Les jaillisses froides de la pluie gèlent l’air profond

Les oiseaux s’enfuient vers des cieux là-haut

Les truites se cachent sous les pierres de ruisseaux

Je regarde plein d’espérance, mon amour, la lueur de l’horizon

Qu’importe la pluie, le froid, la mélancolie de l’arrière-saison

Qu’importe l’absence, les longs jours d’attente, les nuits sans étoiles

Qu’importe les larmes, la souffrance et le mal

J’attends, amante insensée que je suis, ton retour au printemps

J’attends les baisers promis, les ébats délirants dans les champs

Je rêve du parfum exaltant de la rose sur ta peau hâlée

Les coquelicots écrasant sur ta bouche la couleur de mes désirs dérobés

Anita Bacha

Ma poésie est publiée sur les réseaux sociaux depuis 2016

Image Couleurs de l’Automne

Haiku and Travel Photography

My boots

Tell us about your favorite pair of shoes, and where they’ve taken you.

Boots are a type of shoes.The main difference between a shoe and a boot is that boots cover the ankle and sometimes the lower leg, while shoes generally don’t. 

I was a law student in England.My father funded all my fees at University and later at the Inns of Court in London. I was also enjoying a fat student allowance but I would never spend my papa’s money on fancy clothes and stuff.

However, I fell head over heels for the trendy knee high leather boots that I saw at Russell and Bromley in Oxford Street, on my way to the underground tube station.

Idea! A good idea flashed in my mind!

I secured a job as salesgirl at Self Ridges during end of trimester vacation.

Et voilà! I bought my first knee high leather boots, color brown with high heels!

I wore my adorable boots during autumn, winter and early spring,with added pride, having bought them with my own earned money.

I love boots. Even at my age now, I feel very tomboyish, wearing them with my old jeans.

Anita Bacha

In India,attending the Jaipur Literary Festival 25.cc. photo.

Haiku and Travel Photography by Anita Bacha

A bend in the road

To admire Florence’s landscape

I slow down my car

Florence Centro Storico cc. Anita Bacha
Centro Storico, Florence cc.Anita Bacha
Ponte alle Grazie , Florence cc.Anita Bacha
Florence- Centro Storico cc. Anita Bacha

Thanks for your visit, dear friends

Anita Bacha.

Flitting Butterfly – Poem by Anita Bacha

You will never find another love like mine,

The flitting butterfly has an eye for the frail beauty of flowers,

Hovering snootily contemplating his kill;

The flowers are not insensate to the beauty of the ladylove,

Enriched in voluptuous colors,

Perfumed with the choicest fragrances,

They flaunt their bewitching loveliness,

In the offing, to drug him in a deep drowsiness;

Confused in the variety of choices,

The beau flutters his wings,

Heaves a sigh!

I love you all, my ravishing dames! he cries;

Swelling buds ready to break their lavish folds,

Waning roses ready to die,

Dancing, flirting frivolously,

Under the blueness of the summer sky

You will never find another love like mine

Anita Bacha

For more, my dear friends and readers, kindly check out

https://www.amazon.com/Soul-Poetry-Inspirational-Verses-Quotes/dp/1482852322

CLARITY – A TANKA POEM by Anita Bacha

This morning I look 

At my face in the mirror 

I see the wrinkles 

Like clarity of pure water 

The beauty of growing old 

Anita Bacha

cc. Image of sea water

Happy World Book Day – A Poem by Anita Bacha

my forthcoming plan


write a new book for children –


the world best readers

Anita Bacha

Dear friends and readers

Image Cc children in Malpura Rajasthan reading children book The Princess and the Crow
Image of my meeting with Austin Macauley representative at the London Book Fair 2025
Meeting with children book publishers at London Book Fair 2025 . Image copyright
Image cc. My passion for books at LBF 2025.

My passion for books and for writing once again drove my steps to the London Book Fair at Olympia in London last month.

I was flabbergasted to see the innumerable children books exposed. I met several publishers including the Austin Macauley team and I was curious to know about the future of writers of children books.

I was over the moon to learn from a big children book publisher that ‘ for Austin Macauley to publish your story means that your story is a very good one!’ He wished to remain anonymous because he is a publisher too.

With my book ‘The Princess and the Crow’ I was proud to walk around visiting the book stalls as an author of Austin Macauley.

My Rajasthan friends bought their copy of The Princess and the Crow from Amazon India. I am sharing a photo of village children in Malpura reading a paperback copy.

I am invited by Austin Macauley to submit a new manuscript. It dawned upon me to write unique stories about my childhood.

Why unique? Because each one of us has a unique childhood.

I’m working on a new book for children except that it will take some time to write because of my eyes problems.

With your blessings I will write!

Anita Bacha

Noisy Fish Market – Tanka Poem by Anita Bacha


Noisy fish market 

Sellers shouting aloud 

Hurried to sell fast 

The fresh catch of the day 

Buyers bargain  best price 

Anita Bacha

Dear friends and poets, above is my participation to the Thursday Tanka of

https://www.tankasocietyofamerica.org/

The prompt is market.

Picture of Grand Baie Fish Market cc. Pinterest

Enjoy 😊

The Expired Thongs – Short Story by Anita Bacha



I embarked on a spiritual journey last spring and headed towards an ashram in search of self enquiry. My destination was India, a country known for its vast spiritual heritage. I carried in my luggage the minimal personal effects including a pair of old thongs. This search for the Truth of Oneself will, in my mind, be restrictive on personal wants and needs.


Two days after I had rambled around in my old thongs, I noticed that part of the right sole was coming off; I brought it closer to my eyes to have a microscopic view of the damage; I then perceived that there was another problem; the strap which run from between the big toe and the second toe to the right side of the sandal was threading off and thinning. I sadly told myself that the thongs had expired due to old age, wear and tear. It was essential for me to look for new thongs before the expired ones left me half-way. Opportunity knocked when the next morning I walked into a store to buy fruit juice. An array of attractive and colorful thongs was displayed on a self. I tried a few pairs until I fell on one which fitted perfectly.


I settled my bill, removed the new thongs from the box, glided my feet into them and placed the expired ones into the carton to throw away. Strangely, I could not find a dustbin and the expired thongs slept in the box under my bed almost forgotten.


Time passed by. For the festival of Mahashivratri, innumerable pilgrims arrived in the ashram from all over the world. One night, I misplaced my new thongs. I immediately run for the rescue of the expired ones. I had been advised by a physician to walk barefoot which was supposedly a good exercise for different types of inflammation and beneficial for my sore knees, but accustomed to the western way of life, I found it hard to hop around like a grasshopper without footwear.


Eventually, the expired thongs silently resumed their job of transporting me. Every time I came out of a hall or canteen where footwear was not allowed, my eyes fell on them waiting for me, tattered yet so warm. They were serving submissively and devotedly like old wives. I left them here and there, under the nose of everyone but nobody touched them. They were too old to draw attention or to be stolen. Expired they were, in the eyes of all except in mine. What a startling spiritual lesson to learn! Respect and hold on to the old; in times of need, they are the most helpful.


Further, nothing ever happens accidently or mysteriously, spiritual life shows us. For every happening, there is a proper reason. Moreover we are taught that inanimate objects too have feelings and emotions. For instance, it is told in the sacred Hindu book ‘The Ramayana’ that when Lord Rama went to rescue his wife Sita from the demon King Ravana, an army of monkeys came to his help. They built a bridge by plucking mountains from the Himalayas and throwing them into the seas to allow Rama to walk from his land to the realm of Ravana. When the bridge was done, one mountain cried because it was plucked from its original place but not used. Lord Rama then promised the mountain that in his next Avatara, it will receive his blessings. This very mountain was the Govardhana Peak which Rama as the Avatar Krishna lifted on his finger and held aloft for seven days in order to save the inhabitants of Gokul from the devastation of torrential rain.


To cut a long story short, I returned home with the expired thongs, having learnt that self enquiry leads one to detach from people, mundane life and affairs by opening one’s eyes to the deficiencies in them.

Anita Bacha

Write till your signature becomes your autograph cc.Anita Bacha