Smitha Vishwanath

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I feel you

In the breeze that blows
I feel thee, caressing me
Tender and gentle

The thing about death

Death
Dealing
is easy
So I believed
When you have seen it
behaving callously
taking remorselessly
I lost my mother at fifty
A friend at thirty, then another
You were ninety when you died; I still cried

Lessons from my grandma

You
were a
strong woman
who spoke little
You said, “A woman’s voice must not be heard.”
“To be strong you do not have to be loud.”
is what you said
to me too
I think
now

Butterfly

Flitting
bright, beautiful
speckled wings, deep blue; white tips
in the blink of an eye, flies
away

10 word story

You did not even say, ‘Goodbye,’ to me before leaving.

~~~

Smitha Vishwanath likes to call herself an accidental writer. Having worked for 20 years in banking she began writing through her blog in 2016. Her poetry has been published by SpillWords Press, Rebelle Society, Silverbirch Press, Borderless Journal among others. Her first book of poetry – Roads – A Journey with Verses was published in 2019.

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