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
How to tell you,
What is softer than the skin of a baby,
Softer than the feel of snow,
Softer than the petals of a rose,
How to tell you,
Nothing is softer than your hand,
Lying under my cheek,
When I sleep;
How to tell you,
What is a hand without warmth,
Or warmth without a hand,
Or a 🌹without petals,
Or petals without a 🌹,
Or me without you,or you without me.
Anita Bacha
Photo credit: Anita Bacha.
This is the third poem entitled ‘How to tell you’ that I have penned down. I thought my readers would be confused to read (3) in the title. Enjoy! The picture was shot by me at the wedding of my friend, the groom,in Rajasthan. His hand decorated with henna in the picture. I am using the picture to illustrate my poem. There is no connection between the poem and the picture.
You walk in my life unaware,
Inviting my pen to play melodies,
Of indescribable beauty on strings,
My fingers throbbing with love;
Don’t walk away unaware,
Breaking the rhythm of my heart beats,
Striking your name on strings,
My fingers blemished in ink;
You are the dancing script,
The humming pen, the amorous words,
You are around me, within me,
You are the poem you whispered in my ear.
Anita Bacha.
O Man! Your heart is frozen,
As the highest peak capped with snow;
At your sight, I became smitten,
Your heart I cannot melt, I know;
My face covered with snow dust,
I shout your name in love and in lust ;
Cold and fixed,you are emotionless,
O Man! You are heartless!
Anita Bacha
Picture credit Facebook 
The magic of your voice,
Irretrievably touches my soul,
Lifts our passion to zeniths untold.
The magic of your voice,
When I hear on the phone,
Fills my searing eyes with tears,
Drives away all my agony and fears;
Whatever the cruel distance,
However excruciating the absence,
The magic of your voice,
When I hear on the phone,
Brings a smile of hope on my face,
In my life,fullness and solace;
The magic of your voice,
When I hear on the phone,
Irretrievably touches my soul,
Lifts our passion to zeniths untold.
Anita Bacha
Prattling of raindrops on the roof,
Rivaling beats of drums aloof,
Senseless stares in an empty space,
Trying hard to read your face,
No regret,no remorse,no shame,
For you it was just a game;
Breathless when I say goodbye,
Hiding from you my hurt,my cry,
She has come back, I cannot stay,
Love triangles are doomed anyway;
Babbling of voices in my head,
Competing with singings of the dead,
I hold my heart, I have to let you go,
Broken,I have nothing left save my ego.
Anita Bacha
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Your voice is an eternal song,
Your voice lulls me to sleep,
Your voice calls me to dream,
Your voice brings tears to my eyes,
Your voice makes me smile,
Your voice seduces my mind,
Your voice unleashes my needs,
Your voice arouses my passion,
Your voice fills up my senses,
Your voice touches my soul,
Your voice is all I heed.
Anita Bacha
Photo credit:Raj Swami//Rajasthan /Parlika
