Few Lines for You
In silence I probe my heart
To write some lines for you
‘Ask the meadow!’ Says my heart
’Ask the flower!’ Says the meadow
‘Ask the lake!’ Says the flower
Lulled by quiet inspiration
These lines I write for you
Afloat on a lake of heavenly bliss
In the meadow of my heart
On a bed of scented flowers
Your memory lingers
As profound as the still waters
As vast as the meadow
As nostalgic as the perfume of wild blooms
If I were to forget you
I would forget the meadow, the flower, the lake
I would forget my poetry
Anita Bacha
In the rain
The torrential rain continues to make the sea rise,
My body lying on the beach stirs up the winter,
The wounds are left open;
A cold breeze envelops my inert body,
Despite the rain and the cold, my heart is in flames.
Illustration/photography/Anita Bacha
Sopping Flower 🌺
You open to me in the heat of the sun,
Your purple color runs in my veins,
Your beauty is a divine perfume,
My life is imbued with your quintessence;
Once you teach me how to dance,
We twirl and we swirl in the wind,
A joyous song in our heart,
Heedless of the hammering rain;
Secretly in the chill of dusk,
You fold your dying petals,
Enclosing me in the depth of your soul.
Anita Bacha
Photo credit: Raj Swami
Altar Flowers
Yesterday’s close tight buds,
This morning ravishing full blooms,
Picked delicately from my garden,
Laid devoutly at your altar,
Shine their light like a hundred diyas,
A string of silent words,
An unwritten poem to my beloved.
Anita Bacha
Photo credit:Raj Swami/Rajasthan/India
Your Voice
Your voice is an eternal song,
Your voice lulls me to sleep,
Your voice calls me to dream,
Your voice brings tears to my eyes,
Your voice makes me smile,
Your voice seduces my mind,
Your voice unleashes my needs,
Your voice arouses my passion,
Your voice fills up my senses,
Your voice touches my soul,
Your voice is all I heed.
Anita Bacha
Photo credit:Raj Swami//Rajasthan /Parlika
AUTUMN
The fall comes in my garden as a sorceress
The sky covering the morning sun with a thick dimness
Broom sweeps, leaves and flowers fly off in a maelstrom
Cold downpours freeze the subterranean thunderstorm
Birds flee up in the skies with a scream
Trout hide under the stones of the stream
I look full of hope, my love, at the radiance in the horizon
No matter the rain, the cold, the melancholy of the autumn season
Whatever the absence, the long days of waiting, the starless nights
Whatever the tears, the suffering and the frights
I wait, mad lover that I am, for your return in spring
Linger for the promised kisses, the delirious frolics in the field
I dream of the elating scent of the rose on your tanned skin
I dream of poppies crushing on your mouth my stolen longing
Anita Bacha
Illustration/Photography Anita Bacha
