Pretty yellow rose,
Sunbathing in the courtyard,
Intruder fly bites!
Exquisite pink rose,
Flaunts her fresh,youthful beauty,
In the spring of life.
In the morning rain,
Bruised dust-pink rose shivers,
On a bed of thorns.
Frail rose bud petals,
Burn in blaze of dry season ,
Thirsting for rain drops.
Lush garden roses,
Half-blossom bends to her weight ,
Till the last fold falls!
Just before night falls,
She closes her sleek petals-
Beauty for one day!
Beautiful flower,
Devoid of sweet redolence-
Queen of the alleys!
Bees come for honey,
Flowers let down their petals,
On velvety leaves.
The fields speak to me,
Of the fragrance of flowers,
Busy honey bees.
Old water lily,
Shedding petals on the leaves,
Season comes and goes.
Ink leaks from my pen,
Blotchy petals on paper –
I write poesy.
Anita Bacha.
( In the picture, my poetry book INK ! This book consists of 100 love poems and is available in my birth country, Mauritius. It is published by #Éditionsdeloceanindien , a newly- founded publishing house.)
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!
Anita Bacha
My Hiroshima
White doves fly in the blue sky
Orleanders are blooming
Anita Bacha
Morning has broken
Birds repeat their melodies
Time goes on and on
Anita Bacha
Bouquet of roses
Dying in porcelain vase
Gross mediocrity
Anita Bacha
Dear readers, I have joined a group of ‘Haiku challenge ‘ on Twitter and today’s challenge is to write a haiku using the word ‘gross’. I love this challenge .Brainstorming, at times ,nerve racking it keeps me going .Hope you like this one . More are on the way.
True to his word,
He was there, in the park,
Waiting for her,
She halted, looked around,
His words echoed in her ears,
In the morning gentle zephyr,
‘I will be there!’
‘I will be there for you!’
He cried out,
Last time they met and parted;
Stoic, handsome and shy,
Greener against the blue sky,
He smiled under its vast parasol;
The sight of him warmed her heart;
They talked,
They had so much to say to each other;
Then they fell into a deep silence,
It was not love,
It was not happiness,
It was a soul connection.
Anita Bacha
Monsoon season rains
Flooding rivers millet fields –
Lovers soak in love
Anita Bacha
Picture: tumblr.com
Sun high in the sky
Where am I going to hide
The worm asks the book
Anita Bacha
Photo credit: Hilda Aakre
Anita Bacha 