Tag: Inspiration

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

The socks

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

Spring

The Sea

Listen to the lament of the forlorn sea,
She is calling your name!
Listen to the rhythm of her beating waves,
She is calling your name!
Listen to the sea,
Listen to her beseeching vow,
She is missing you!
She misses your body,
Floating frivolously like seaweed,
Dancing and curving her waves,
She misses your smell,
Deliciously and fondly fading with hers,
She wants to tenderly hold you,
And, never let you go,
Engulf you in the nudity of her waves,
Deep into the profundity of her bewitching charm,
Rocking you once again in her arms

Santa Paula, Goa January 2020

Anita Bacha

Goat Story

One day, an old and worn-out goat was quietly crossing over a bridge under which a river was flowing. Coming in the opposite direction gallantly, was a sturdy young goat. When they reached the middle of the bridge, they realized there was not enough room for two goats to pass. They halted. The young goat said in a threatening voice, ready to come to thorns-
‘Out of the way you so and so! I am in a hurry!’
The old goat felt the looming sparks of hostility in the air. He had fought several fights in his life and this young goat, he thought, would be K.O in the first round! But wisdom dawned upon him.
‘The bridge is made of bamboo and is not solid. What if it collapses during the struggle? We will both fall into the river with dire consequences!’ He reflected.
‘Look here, young chap!’ He addressed his opponent with diplomacy. ’There is no point in fighting! I will lie down on my tummy and you can walk across on my back!’
No sooner said than done, each goat went off on his way happily!
-Anita Bacha-

I Promise You

My love, I promise you my ink,

My heart bleeds of words I think,

Of impossible love and pain,

My tears flow incessantly as rain,

Eroded a painting of sea and sand,

Dreams of escape to a green island;

My love, I promise you my ink,

As long as my breath doesn’t sink,

Blood flows in my veins,

A song in my memory remains.

Anita Bacha

Photo credit @anitabacha