INK

Inspired by Manache Poetry’s Next Awakening, I have written the second and last half of this poem.

The first half was complete but followed a systematic writer’s ( or lover’s) block. One sentence “do not let go of my hand” was all I needed to dip the nib of my pen in the ink pot of the vast ocean of  Love and write…

INK

In chaos, my world collapses,

My pen drops,

A wound on my ring finger,

Betrayed …

By my sister,

An ironic wasteland is my heart,

Dumped …

Love loses its eulogy,

Fragmented…

In a puzzle chemistry,

Poets run out of verses

Tumbled…

Face down in infamy;

Suddenly,

Loose petals of words,

Fall in cascades,

Cover my lifeless body,

Awakened…

From the torpor

Of self imposed penalty,

Wet…

Under the mosquito net,

Stained…

My bed linen,

With ink from your pen !

Anita Bacha

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World Poetry Day

My Poetry

My poetry is my inseparable lover

At night I snuggle and slumber with her

A velvety couch of imagery is our dream

Of mystic lands, beings and forms unseen

In the morn my eyes open to her beauty

In her silky tresses I thread myself furtively

Her kisses are words of ecstasy

Burning my skin as evanescent paper arduously

As she carves with the pen of immortality

She turns to ashes my poet’s frisk and folly

Turning my heart to lyrics of past life and mystery

Together we plough in the pasture of divinity

Anita Bacha

Short Stories