Monsoon season rains
Flooding rivers millet fields –
Lovers soak in love
Anita Bacha
Picture: tumblr.com
Rains
Summer Solstice
Sun high in the sky
Where am I going to hide
The worm asks the book
Anita Bacha
Photo credit: Hilda Aakre
Dawn
Sun landing safely
On a velvety carpet
Merging with the sea
Anita Bacha
Video my own
The Socks
The Socks
In coils like two cotton balls
Coated with dust
From under my bed
A brush stroke brought out the socks!
Forgotten
Abandoned
Consciously or unconsciously
The socks you left behind
Sad, blue
Filled with bitterness
The stare blank
The socks
I caught in my trembling hands
Gave me a lump in my throat
The socks recalled your being there
Curled against me in my bed
It was not a dream!
The socks made me a little scared
Fear the idea that you will never come back
To warm my bed
To cover me with delicious cuddles
The socks made me chuckle too
Giggle at the idea that I had never seen such large feet
Such big toes, teasingly tickling my feet
The socks revived in me the great happiness
These senseless moments
When we both laughed like kids
Happy to be together
Pleased that we had met
Pleased that we were in love!
Anita Bacha
Milk Coffee
Frightening world news
Covid19 symptoms rise
Milk coffee in cup
Anita Bacha
Flowers
Tulips kiss the sky
Marigolds threaded garland
Roses sleep on graves.
Anita Bacha
Le Visiteur
Assis sur une chaise haute,
Grand,beau et silencieux,
Il tirait sur sa derniere cigarette:
La pandémie battait son plein,
Il est arrivé tôt ce matin-là,
Il posa sur la table un sac des ravitaillements ;
Assis sur une chaise haute,
Grand, beau et silencieux,
Il tirait sur sa dernière cigarette ;
Petite,
Elle atteignait la hauteur de son front ;
Le contour délicat de ses yeux,
Une minuscule fossette dans le menton
Et, ses narines sensuelles la captivaient ;
Elle chassa amèrement
L’envie folle de serrer la tête de l’homme,
Contre son sein ,
De couvrir son visage basané des baisers ;
Elle aussi avait fait la guerre,
Mais la guerre de la vie ;
Langoureuse,
Elle chercha longtemps dans son regard,
Un signe,
Une suspicion d’amour,
Rien, un vide,
Autrefois, il a connu l’amour,
L’amour qui trahit et qui fait mal,
L’amour qui tue,
Et il mourrait doucement ;
Elle mourrait aussi à force de l’aimer,
Incapable de déclarer son amour
A un homme sans âme.
Anita Bacha
Waves
The sea is silent
Surfers fret in quarantine
Waves dance in solo
Anita Bacha
Waiting for Spring
The fall forays my garden as a sorceress,
The sky covering the morning sun with 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;
Pining for the promised kisses, the delirious frolics in the field,
I dream of the elating scent of the rose on your tanned skin,
Of poppies, crushing on your mouth my stolen longing.
Anita Bacha
Celebrating Mother’s Day – Footprints -A Poem by Anita Bacha
Happy Mother’s Day!
Sharing a poem dedicated to my mother who passed at the age of 42 after a long illness of innumerable years.
FOOTPRINTS
She was walking on the beach
A long skirt hiding her knees
Dotted with tiny blue florets
A white linen blouse flattened her bosom
Prude,
She never wore a bathing suit
Immaculate as the sunset
Pretty as a picture
Mysterious as the sea
Smiling to herself
Poetic, in love, sweet,
A dreamer
She fell in love only once
People said
The blessed day was her wedding day
A long trail of foot steps
She left
Printed in the moist sand
In joyous innocence
Behind her I walked
Placing my steps
One by one in her wake
She was the apple of my eye!
She was my mother! She is my inspiration!
Anita Bacha
Thank you for reading
Anita Bacha
Anita Bacha 