The Other Side of Paradise

God only knows,
I saw your smile in the crescent of the moon,
I saw your tears sashaying the window screen,
Or was it raining on a full moon night,
God only knows,
I am madly in love with the idea of you,
The scent of henna on my beloved’s hand,
Breathes the perfume of rose in the desert sand,
God only knows,
How far the traveler has run around the globe,
I saw your footprints in a puddle of water,
I saw your fingers running in my tangled hair,
Or was it the rustling of the mimosa leaves
God only knows.
Anita Bacha

Photo credit: Anita Bacha

White Flowers in the Night

Take me with you,

To a land where white flowers

Bloom in the night,

Where moths freely die in the light,

As I bloom and I die in your favors;

Take me with you,

Keep me close to you,

As the scent of white flowers

Invigorate the breath of lovers,

And I write with the ink of your eyes,

These petals of poetry,

Chaste as white flowers in the night.

Anita Bacha.

Photo credit:Raj Swami.

A Flower in My Hair

Today I wear a fresh flower in my hair,

My sweet sweetheart is here,

For the city, he left me asunder,

How I lived without him, I wonder;

Red florets I wore on our wedding night,

The gems he put in my hair under the moonlight,

Are the pressed blooms under my pillow,

How I slept without him, do you know?

Anita Bacha

Photo credit: Rajesh Swami

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How to tell you

How to tell you,

What is sweeter than a drop of honey,

Sweeter than a grain of sugar,

Sweeter than the juice of a strawberry;

How to tell you,

Nothing is sweeter than your tongue,

Melting like ice in my mouth;

How to tell you,

What is a flower without a bumble bee,

Or a bumble bee without a flower,

Or me without you, or you without me.

Anita Bacha

Photo credit: Anita Bacha

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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

anitabacha.com

Photo credit: Raj Swami