Please dreamcatcher catch the perfect man. “He does not exist.”
***I know this from experience. 🙂
I am always working on my mind, body and Susi.
I feel you
In the breeze that blows
I feel thee, caressing me
Tender and gentle
The thing about death
So I believed
When you have seen it
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
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
speckled wings, deep blue; white tips
in the blink of an eye, flies
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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A happy home – the Feng shui of space and people.
with joy merged
in the space
we call home
a place we learn
a place we grow
a place we love
the happy home
the chambers of my achy breaky heart.
Honestly, this open secret is not being very well kept.
french fries and mayo
oddball food combo
our destinies have crossed paths
Unbiased opinions do not actually exist.
Love spoken in a whisper echoes loudly in my heart.
It’s tiresome, leading some people by the hand to understand.
Beginning of something new, pulls us further towards the end.
Deconstruction and comprehension of poetry are dependent on our past.
You are not funny, but you sure are a joke.