Happy š Day
Your lips have not touched mine,
Your searing eyes mime,
What your heart cannot hold;
Should I seal with a kiss š
Receive your love or dismiss,
What my heart ā¤ļø cannot hold.
Anita Bacha
Photo credit: Ocean Vibrations
Happy Teddy Day
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 don’t know the word ‘Valentine ‘,
All I know, I am yours and you are mine.
Anita Bacha
Photo credit :Anita Bacha
For A ValentineĀ
Roses are blue
Violets are red
Drops of dew
Bust heart bled
Anita Bacha
Honeysuckle
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
Writerās 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
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
Ā 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 razorā¦
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LAND OF PREDILECTION
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 deathās 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 starsā 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 āloveā
Anita BachaĀ©
Book signing
The past is your lesson
The present is your gift
The future is your poetry
Anita Bacha
My poetry book SOUL POETRY was yet another opportunity for me to travel and discover the reading world.
Itās incredible and worthy to note that books have a precious place in the heart of the millennial, our audience today and tomorrow.
At the Kuala Lumpur International Book Fair 2018, I realized that itās a great joy to witness readers, young and old,buying and investing in our words, in our poetry.
Dawn of a New Tomorrow
Come to me, my love
A dawn announces a new tomorrow,
Break off your fetters of pain and sorrow,
Wipe the tears from your searing eyes,
Dawn clears to-day with a swipe,
Come to me,
Come to me, my love,
The sun burns out,
Plunges in the arms of the sea to die,
The mountain lifts on her toes to hug the sky,
The repudiate lover holds on helplessly,
As dawn covers her cries cruelly,
Come to me, my love,
Let us spread our wings and fly
Anita Bacha
Illustrative/Photography/AnitaBacha
Fistful of SandĀ
I ran to catch a fistful of sand,
Where unaware,
Your bare feet had trodden;
A fistful of sand, to treasure;
Somewhere,
A dream had broken.
Anita Bacha
INK
In chaos, my world collapses,
My pen drops,
A wound on my ring finger,
Betrayed ā¦
By my lover,
An ironic wasteland is my heart,
Dumped ā¦
Love loses its eulogy,
Fragmentedā¦
In a puzzle chemistry,
Poets run out of verses,
Tumbledā¦
Face down in infamy;
Suddenly,
Out of nowhere,
Loose petals of words,
Fall in cascades,
Cover my lifeless body,
Awakenedā¦
From the torpor
Of self imposed penalty,
Wetā¦
Under the mosquito net,
Stainedā¦
My bed linen,
With ink from your pen !
Anita Bacha
Writerās note -The first half was complete but followed a systematic writerās ( or loverās) block. One sentence ādo not let go of my handā was all I needed to dip the nib of my pen in the ink pot of the vast ocean of Ā Love and writeā¦
Anita Bacha 