The woman with the top-hat
Is a magician
Not the rabbit, ooh, kind

But one who holds up
Ten different acts in the air,
And completes all of them!

I don’t want to be like her anymore (too tiring)
But I admire her so much.

Hers – a fascinating balancing act
Of measured tread and proportions
Just right for her.

The lady with the top hat is a magician indeed!

Smeetha, responding to prompt 20.

Moment of joy

This…this is a moment of joy indeed!
You are here with me, as we
Rejoice!

Having come this far,

It’s a beautiful feeling
Of having spent
Hours

In

Cherished verse!

Smeetha, responding to prompt 18.

It was said that the village had to feed him
Everyday, bringing food by the cartload

Or else, he would grab a villager and kill,
And that would be his dinner!

Fear and despair raged in the vicinity
And no one was able to do anything,

Until a wise old sage appeared one day.
He asked the villagers to gather at dawn

When the demon was asleep,
And prepare a bonfire. They did as he asked.

Soon flames leapt up to the sky, crackling with dried wood and a roaring wind;

And the demon, getting up lazily, confused,
Walked to the open field to see.

The sage wasted no time in getting his plan
Together. Getting the bull, a villager suddenly

Charged at it, waving a red flag,
Terrified, enraged, the bull ran straight into

The demon standing behind the man who had swerved away in time….

The demon crashed down the hill in a
Mighty fall, and was never heard if again!

Smeetha, responding to prompt 17.

Gigan – Luck

I want to hold Jupiter, the planet of luck
Close, for myself and every earthling.

Now is the time to align
And bond just as the planets do,
Adding luck, to hard work.

Some good old luck, always works
I’ve found this to be true!

Have you seen how your innermost
Longings are answered?

How, your wishes come true?
I want to hold Jupiter, the planet of luck-
Some good old luck, always works!

Shall we strive hard through the darkness,
Stepping softly into light, worn, tired, free?

Smeetha, responding to Prompt #8

Tenth picture on my phone

Is a beautiful painting
By an artist who paints with her fingers,
Not brushes-
Lata Balakrishna;
And here she has carved out a fort
In beige and ochre
Under purple-blue skies,
Wearing
Of all things –
A rich green wall,
Quite surprising!

You wonder
If it’s a warm welcome,
To diminish the effect
Of searching sepoys one may
Meet on the way…?

Smeetha, responding to Prompt 7

Dear One,

A bush of mayflowers by your Granny’s door
Pink and white, you remember?
“Of course” i whisper to myself.
“I’ve collected in me the presence and blessings of your dearest people,
And shower them on you
From above,”
“I thought so” i think and smile…
Remembering the soft brush
On rosy cheeks
Mother’s voice telling me
I loved them….

Smeetha, responding to Prompt 6

Within the warm yellowed pages
Of a hardcover Sherlock Holmes
In the family library,
Nestles a brownish
Sunflower

Mellowed, wiser, ageing gracefully
Each passing day.
Hues of space,
Tints of rusted nails
And a flavour of oaks

Defines its presence,
For it is more imaginary than real,
Wine glasses scooped out of
Surreal topographical
Features.

Smeetha, responding to Prompt 5

It’s raining

A hundred years from now
New seeds will bear fruit,
You’ll see gardens bursting with
Elms, oaks, pine

Rivers in full spate, rushing by,;

Glens awash in roses, chrysanthemums,
Jasmine,
Our dreams of greened acres
All the things we yearn for today, but are too busy to find…

A hundred year wait will
Bring them up close
And personal
In our hearts,
Having worked through
Ravished terrain

To get there….

Smeetha, in response to prompt #4.

Oh, to take a cello
To the pink earth and green sky
Spread out on the hours

A carpet of flyaway dreams…

A lovely breeze to ruffle the notes, and carry

An old tune I’m humming

To distant skies –

Pollens of happiness
So treasured in
Darkening times…

Smeetha responding to Prompt 3 – video of song from La La Land and a beautiful image.

She’s there
In a scene straight from Frost :
‘Between the woods and the frozen lake’
Throwing pebbles
In despair,
Wondering where it’s all going to lead…

The guns, the rage, the hurt,
The heartache
Of not being master
Of your own fate!
She looks up, wet-cheeked
At the enormous, all knowing sky
As if, any moment it’s going to burst into speech!

The evening turns to dusk
A sweet scent of jasmine fills her
She’s still there, looking for crumbs of hope,
In the twilight
Abuzz with
Fleeting fireflies.

The glow must hold some meaning,
For she comes away
Feeling comforted,

Her cat feels it
As she strokes his furry head
Purring away in pleasure.

Smeetha, responding to Prompt 2.