Sun glows in blue sky,
Gold ripples dance on the sea –
Time to set the sail.
Young tourist poses,
Older man sips lemonade,
Generation gap.
Humble hatched roof hut,
Lies behind tourist hotel,
Fisherman’s sweet home.
Sun sets at seaside,
Colorful streaks brush the sky,
Footprints in wet sand.
Sleek evening ripples,
The sun embraces, lying down –
Romantic season!
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
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
Happy Mother’s Day!
Sharing a poem dedicated to my mother who left this world at the age of 42 after a long illness of innumerable years.
THE APPLE OF MY EYE
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!
Anita Bacha
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
Anita Bacha
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
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
Spirit of the Forest,
You marvel me,
You scare me,
In the deepness of your folds,
I love to venture,
Gliding in your moist leaves,
Play hide and seek.
Anita Bacha
With a magic splash of fresh paints,
Trees and plants
Grim and dark,
With a spark
Into emerald green, are changed,
Donned is the sky in glistening blue,
Splendid and meek, the golden sun
Flirts jauntily,
Budding flowers kissing delicately
Coaxing beauty in the fun;
As spring plays with colors,
With the melodious songs of birds,
With the waltz of cheery butterflies,
With the noble heart of man,
New hopes, like fresh petals unbolt,
Blossoming gaily in the garden of life.
Anita Bacha
The grains of sand tickle my feet,
I close my eyes,
Is it you, my sweet Lord,
Filling my soul with vibes divine?
The sea amorously laps my toes,
I close my eyes,
Is it you, my sweet Lord,
Sending cosmic waves down my spine?
As I stroll down the shore
‘I have caressed His Feet! ‘whispers the sand;
‘I have kissed His toes!’ murmurs the sea,
You walk with me, my sweet Lord!Anita Bacha
