LITTLE FLOWER IN A FURROW

 I was passing by,
One morning,
 A little flower in a furrow
 I saw, peeping at me;
Soft lavender color,
Tender and fragile,
 Flaunting four tiny petals,
A miniscule golden ball,
Her belly button;
Mesmerized, I watched,
Wondered,
Chuckled;
I wanted to touch her,
With my moistened lips,
Caress her glossy folds;
To-morrow!
I cried out and hurried my steps;
Following sunrise,
The furrow was barren,
My eyes wept for her;
In a puddle,
Pale, on her tummy,
 Lifeless and floppy,
The little flower
Floated in rain water;
 Queen for a day, memorable forever,
She won the heart of a joker.

Anita Bacha

https://m.facebook.com/Ani.Bacha/

 

London 

The sun breaks through the clouds,

Dressed in a robe of yellow sprouts,
The time has changed to summer,
The temperature chills of winter;
Eyes burning with sleep at five,
The clock chimes six to arise;
Clad in winter coat, stole, bonnet and boots,
Londoners hurry to catch the tube
Anita Bacha

https://m.facebook.com/Ani.Bacha/

SPRING IN DÜSSELDORF 

A first bloom,

A first flower,
In a barren garden,
A God sent boon;
She stoops,
Stretches a shaky hand;
A miracle has fallen,
In a lonely garden;
A fragile blossom,
She clutches to her bosom,
Forgetting the dark memories,
The cold lonely days;
A blossom of sun rays,
At last,
To warm her waning age
Anita Bacha

https://www.instagram.com/anitabacha/

SPRING IS HERE

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,
Blossom gaily in the garden of life .
– Anita Bacha –

https://m.facebook.com/Ani.Bacha/

London Book Fair17 

Going down High Street,Olympia,My heart overflows with nostalgia;

On tree tops,I behold

Blossoms of green and gold;

At the London Book Fair,

Writers and poets fare;

In the pages of each book,

I delve and I look,

Your name is engraved by the invisible

Hand of God.

Anita Bacha

https://www.instagram.com/anitabacha/

CHAINS 

‘Be not afraid of greatness,Some are born great,

Some achieve greatness,

And others have greatness thrust upon them.’

Willam Shakespeare 

I fell in love with books when I started school at the age of four. Later, I discovered my father’s collection of classic French literature novels. His bookcase was never locked. I gained easy access to ‘NOTRE DAME DE PARIS’ of the French novelist, VICTOR HUGO and ‘LES LIAISONS DANGEREUSES’ of HONORE DE BALZAC. The book worm that is in me devoured them passionately. I was eleven.
Simultaneously, I toyed with the idea of writing a book. In my fertile imagination, I saw my name printed on the book cover. Eventually, I wrote and published my first novel in 2006. The book is a narrative account of my experiences as a follower of a Spiritual Guru. Introverted, shy and lacking in self confidence, I did not publish the stories which I wrote about promiscuity, casual sex and other similar subjects which troubled me enormously when I was a child. Until later in life, I channelled my hidden emotions and irrational compulsions to the public audience by my poetry.
 POEM – CHAINS                                        
Chains I devotedly wore,
Tenderly forced on me of yore;
Overly esteemed,
Chains of love lived,
Of carnal sin,
Of sweet give in;
Guarding my fugue,
My getting lost,
Wandering, 
Venturing,
 In a world of seemingly chaos,
Of sweet illusions,
Fairy tales and apparitions,
Alluring snares and ambush,
Lies so tasty,
Far from the grim reality;
Chained,
 I lived and loved;
A dream I had yet,
A dream so delicious,
Ingenious,
Haughty, I guessed!
To burst my chains,
Engulf deep into my soul,
My true self to behold
And never to be chained!
– Anita Bacha –

https://www.instagram.com/anitabacha/