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
A well kept secret is this flower
That did not bloom in the blue grass
Today the sky is deep green,
The grass is sapphire blue,
I walk up the heath,
To say a last farewell to you,
A well kept secret is this flower,
That didn’t bloom in the blue grass,
Yet its sweet fragrance will linger,
As far as memories will last.
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
Follow me
<a href="http://Instagram.com/anitabacha
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
How to tell you,
What is more painful than a blast in the ear,
More painful than a suppressed tear,
More painful than the whistle of a train,I hear;
How to tell you,
Nothing is more painful than your leave,
Feigning that without you I can live;
How to tell you,
What is a beloved without the lover,
Or a lover without the beloved,
Or me without you, or you without me;
How to tell you,
What is the sky without a moon,
Or a moon without the sky,
Or me without you, or you without me.
Anita Bacha
Photo credit -Rajesh Swami
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
I fly free with the butterflies,
In the midday sun,
Leaving behind the darkness,
Of the night;
Words are my wings,
Poetry liberates my soul,
From the world’s shackles and lies.
Anita Bacha
Photo credit:Raj Swami
Behold the first turn of the autumn leaf 🍁
From green ☘️to amber light,
From yellow to rusty veins;
Behold the game of life,
Like the autumn leaf 🍂
We have lived,
Knowing life is a gift 💝 of God,
Gracefully, we detach,
We take our leave,
Make way for new leaves 🍀🌿🍃🍀
Anita Bacha
Illustrative/Photography/Anita Bacha/Frankfurt/Germany
Your lips have not touched mine,
Your searing eyes mime,
What your heart cannot hold;
Should I seal with a kiss 😘
Receive your love or dismiss,
What my heart ❤️ cannot hold.
Anita Bacha
Photo credit: Ocean Vibrations
Anita Bacha 