Sing a Song 

O! My foolish little bird!
Why are you perched on this desolate twig?
The leaves have yellowed and fallen,
The leaves have drifted away;
Your feathers as soft as pain,
Your silence drowns in rain;
O! My foolish little bird,
What love do you seek?

Anita Bacha


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

SPRING FRISKIES

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

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/