World stands still,

Night slowly weaves dreams.

Dreams of exquisite beauty,

Connecting us in eternity.

Anita Bacha

Illustration/Photography/Anita Bacha



On the onset of winter 

In the dark night of wither 

I saw the moon 

A smirk on her face 

‘Why do you smile so soon?’

I asked with a grimace 

‘Why is there a stain on your forehead?’

‘I smile behind my mask of grief ‘she said 

‘The blot on my forehead is to remind us that when we wound

A kindred human being, we bear a blemish on our face.’




Wake up my beloved
It’s time for us to make love
The sun is about to rise
Our paths are going to part
In the night you nestle in my heart
This is where I’ll love to keep you

Story behind the photo

I found this nest and three little birds in my chimney this morning. For an unknown reason, it crossed my mind to clean the chimney before I lit the water heater.

Evidently, the parents built their nest in the chimney during my absence from home.

I feel blessed . Today is also the birthday of my son … Pet name Pomme 🍏


He was remarkably handsome and tall
With a physique to make every woman fall
To her skilled eye, he was also coquettish
Fluttering eyelashes, mouth puckish
He had known many women and men
She sighed, but she was madly smitten
Botox had done the trick, she had lost years
Set to please and conquer her fears
She came to him with great expectation
He came to her utterly forsaken
In the backstreets of a gruesome city
A hotel room lit with a candle dimly
The wall clock stopped abruptly
Every moment was hot and sticky
The longing was the center of their world
Time stand still, no going back or forward
In the morning she left as secretly as she came
A bank note under the old ashtray bore her name
Anita Bacha©

We are One 

The body falls exhausted at night

And rises invigorated at the first light

Whether one lies on a bed or on the street

God has gifted us with sleep

It is God’s way of telling us I bet

We are all ONE under his sleeping net




Photo Source Internet

Ce soir j’ai un rendez-vous avec l’amour

Ce soir laisses-moi t’aimer

Laisses-moi te remplir de mes émotions

Laisses-moi te couvrir de mes baisers

Ce soir j’ai un rendez-vous avec l’amour

Ce soir laisses-moi t’emporter

Laisses-moi te donner ma destinée

Laisses-moi  te fondre dans mon âme

Ce soir j’ai un rendez-vous avec l’amour

Ce soir laisses-moi  te  définir

Laisses-moi te poser sur la feuille de l’indéfini

Laisses-moi te conjuguer à la  plus belle poésie

Anita Bacha




Kaki turned sixty-seven last summer. Her children were married and had left home. Her husband, a retired army officer, was more cantankerous than ever before; a wife beater and a bully, he had no one except the docile Kaki upon whom he could vent his erratic and ominous temper. Kaki sought refuge in her childhood memories.

 Alas! These memories were far from being joyful and bright. She recalled the often quoted proverb of her mother ‘out of the mouths of babes and sucklings comes forth the truth’. However, Kaki was a special child. She rarely talked, not because sometimes the truth is better left unsaid but simply because she was afraid. She was scared of telling the truth. She was scared of being accused of telling lies.

At an early age, Kaki became aware that she was endowed with a generous dose of acuity. She unwittingly watched and read the faces and mannerism of the people around her. This was how she found out about a sordid affair between her widowed grandmother and the dandy gentleman with the gold chain watch.

 Kaki’s grandma was a stern and authoritative woman. She was feared by all. She married a widower when she was fourteen and inherited a family of eight children. She procreate an additional eight kids. When Kaki’s grandfather passed, her grandma was a young woman bursting with feline energy. She heartily accepted to take Kaki under her charge when Kaki’s mother left this world.

The gentleman paid irregular, nocturnal visits to her grandma.  When he came, Kaki sat silently on a small wooden bench in the kitchen and shared with the two adults, the warmth of blazing charcoals in the hearth.  They talked and laughed at the same time as they enjoyed the home-brewed coffee which her grandma stealthily hid in a tin jar kept in a small cabinet under the stove. The jar was removed from its secret place only on the arrival of the gentleman. Kaki watched them dreamily. On these special occasions grandma was particularly attentive and caring to Kaki. She unreservedly treated her with a bowl of fresh boiled and creamy cow’s milk. A really scrumptious beverage for the child! She slurped the thick drink, licking the bowl clean. She never recalled when she fell asleep and who carried her to bed.

 Unhappily, in next to no time, that which looked like a fairy tale to Kaki turned out to be a horror story. One dark and silent night, Kaki was sleeping in her bed; her tiny toes touched what felt like the soft, warm and moist belly of a puppy. She woke up and found the gentleman, in his birthday suit, sleeping soundly at her feet.  She sat up in shock! She did not scream; she did not shriek. She was too terrified to utter a sound.

 As a consequence of the traumatic experience, she became a victim of severe panic attacks. She dreaded   the reunion in the kitchen and she shuddered with anxiety every time she slipped under her blanket. Nervous and wretched, she got into the psychosomatic habit of lying in bed in the fetus posture. The nightmarish incident repeated itself several times in the coming months or probably years. The trust and confidence which Kaki had placed in adults were lost forever. She hated them.  As her mental health deteriorated, she became pale, sad, aloof, forlorn and insomniac. But inhibited by an overpowering emotion of fear, she kept quiet about her condition and suffered quietly.

 The truth remained untold.

 On the other hand, the grandmother of Kaki and the gentleman continued to see each other for a good number of years. No one ever learned about their clandestine liaison.


 Anita Bacha