About Anita Bacha

Published writer and poet, mother, love to read and write

Reflections

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Anita Bacha

REFLECTIONS

THE EXPIRED THONGS

I embarked on a spiritual journey last spring and headed towards an ashram in search of self enquiry. My destination was India, a country known for its vast spiritual heritage. I carried in my luggage the minimal personal effects including a pair of old thongs. This search for the Truth of Oneself will, in my mind, be restrictive on personal wants and needs.

Two days after I had rambled around in my old thongs, I noticed that part of the right sole was coming off; I brought it closer to my eyes to have a microscopic view of the damage; I then perceived that there was another problem; the strap which run from between the big toe and the second toe to the right side of the sandal was threading off and thinning. I sadly told myself that the thongs had expired due to old age…

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Dawn of a New Tomorrow

Anita Bacha

Come to me, my love

A dawn announces a new tomorrow,

Break off your fetters of pain and sorrow,

Wipe the tears from your searing eyes,

Dawn clears to-day with a swipe,

Come to me,

Come to me, my love,

The sun burns out,

Plunges in the arms of the sea to die,

The mountain lifts on her toes to hug the sky,

The repudiate lover holds on helplessly,

As dawn covers her cries cruelly,

Come to me, my love,

Let us spread our wings and fly

Anita Bacha

Illustrative/Photography/AnitaBacha

View original post

Dawn of a New Tomorrow

Come to me, my love

A dawn announces a new tomorrow,

Break off your fetters of pain and sorrow,

Wipe the tears from your searing eyes,

Dawn clears to-day with a swipe,

Come to me,

Come to me, my love,

The sun burns out,

Plunges in the arms of the sea to die,

The mountain lifts on her toes to hug the sky,

The repudiate lover holds on helplessly,

As dawn covers her cries cruelly,

Come to me, my love,

Let us spread our wings and fly

Anita Bacha

Illustrative/Photography/AnitaBacha

I wish I were

Anita Bacha

I wish I were the letters that drop from your fountain pen,

And, splotch the virgin white sheet of paper,

The fountain pen that you fondly hold in your hand

And, shape the words exposing your unleash passion,

I wish I were the ink smudged hand on which you rest your chin,

When you contemplate on the forlorn night for inspiration,

The maladroit stroke of ink that brushes your cheek

And, leaves a blue bite mark like a possessive lover,

I wish I were the notebook that hoards your precious poems

And, you hide in secret under your pillow when you sleep,

The pillow that stanchly guards the secrets of your dream life

And, sings you to slumber when night tide engulfs poets and lexis.

Anita Bacha

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I wish I were

I wish I were the letters that drop from your fountain pen,

And, splotch the virgin white sheet of paper,

The fountain pen that you fondly hold in your hand

And, shape the words exposing your unleash passion,

I wish I were the ink smudged hand on which you rest your chin,

When you contemplate on the forlorn night for inspiration,

The maladroit stroke of ink that brushes your cheek

And, leaves a blue bite mark like a possessive lover,

I wish I were the notebook that hoards your precious poems

And, you hide in secret under your pillow when you sleep,

The pillow that stanchly guards the secrets of your dream life

And, sings you to slumber when night tide engulfs poets and lexis.

Anita Bacha

Good Morning Frankfurt 

Anita Bacha

“What is this life if full of care

We have no time to stand and stare ”

These verses I learned by heart

I recall them now as I halt

At the red light

My eyes follow my intuition

On the right

A stunning scenery in oblivion

A pond, ducks and fallen leaves

I stand and I stare

At a picture of life

Which I capture to share

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The Sea

Anita Bacha

 

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 You growled loudly;

Your hoarse voice I heard clearly;

My steps I hastened towards you;

Halted on the sand still warm,

Out of breath,

The sea, I‘ve been watching you!

Mysterious, a woman you resembled;

In the darkness,

A few stars had assembled,

I imagined your gorgeous beauty,

Gauged your ferocious mighty;

A strong smell I breathed in,

Tears, I guessed, had turned your water salty;

Sated, I turned around,

Ran away to hide,

Returned to my bed to cry;

 

Dawn came, birds chirped noisily;

Awoken, I listened to your silence;

Walked back to watch you, the sea,

Basking in tender quietness;

Behind you, the glorious sun had risen;

Your hair flowing, angry and rippled

In a gentle caress was softened

Hugged like a fond lover

Kissed over and over,

Lulled you were in his delicious warmth;

Conquered by his irresistible charm,

Tranquil, you had fallen into his arms;

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