A wise woman I knew,
never could read a book,
she cared for the chickens,
sang and danced as she cooked.

She could make sweet candy,
curdling milk with lime,
adding sugar too,
it tasted sublime.

Building her fine house,
of mortar and bricks,
she mopped it inside,
with a rag and stick.

Not watching a clock,
when predicting time,
instead looked outside,
noticing sunshine.

Quickly sniffing air,
smelled visits from rain,
once or twice saved lives,
curing any pain.

Her eyes could not read,
but her mind could see,
all the kindest hearts,
and the greatest thieves.

Brilliant like no other,
grand ties made us friends,
bonds with no known start,
never see an end.

– Grace Y. Estevez-Reddy

“Illiterate” was originally published on January 14, 2021 and published on SpillwordsPress on March 22,2021.


Breathless sighs, consume my peace,
panic steals all of my ease.
My own mind gives me advice,
serene thoughts may spark insight.

“Take a breath”, the voices said,
erasing my deep distress.
“But what for?”, I ask myself.
“To let go and gain control.”

Only air, nothing quite there,
treatment for all my despair.
Inhaling is all I need,
Exhaling my deepest grief.

Finally, the perfect cure,
comforting what feels unsure.
“Stop and breathe to clear bad days,
hope is just a breath away.”

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Moonwashed Weekly Challenge – August 16, 2022
Prompt – Breathless


Outside your window.
Observe the world you perceive.
Help move it forward.

– Grace Y. Estevez-Reddy

Originally Published on February 16,2021


Too strong to ask for help,
while knowing you are weak.
Too right to see the wrongs,
in all the lies you speak

Trendsetter paving paths,
expect for sheep to follow.
A solid stone-filled heart,
can only teach great sorrow

Proof in your hazel eyes,
filled up with fallen dreams.
Imprisoned hidden smiles,
muffle loud inner screams

It did not go your way,
manipulate the truth.
Point out imagined flaws,
hope no one mentions you

You can not show pure love,
that you have never known.
Can not emit warm light,
if cold is all you own

Pity towards your fine clan,
is what I feel inside.
They can not see your games,
or how you play their mind

Feel sorry for you too,
unspoken hurts cause pain.
Hope you can heal within,
attract much needed gain

One day our worlds may crash,
at intersecting roads.
Our lives perhaps aligned,
with no lingering holds.

– Grace Y. Estevez-Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What do you see #147 August 15, 2022


Guardian of dreams,
shines bright with white light,
calms my unheard screams,
protects me all night.

Owner of my heart,
with abilities
to create fine art,
then relive each scene.

Pushes back the hour
in any wound clock,
then proves his powers,
destroys every lock.

Repairs hearts again,
done effortlessly,
voice writes like a pen
so consistently.

Teaches me to paint
a transparent smile,
releasing restraints
with genuine style.

He wears many wounds
from battles with life,
resembles the moon,
builds towers from strife.

Grabs silk thread and vines,
to sew my torn wings,
together we climb,
close our eyes and fling.

I learn how to fly,
secure by his side,
floating past the sky,
he heals me inside.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Handmade (Published at The Writers Club)

A puppeteer,
happily laughs.
Eagerly steers,
a narrow path.

Pulling my strings,
making me fling,
giving me wings,
dance as he sings.

Well entertained,
as he creates.
Knowledge ingrained,
he gives as traits.

Gives me a life,
that he designs,
opens his eyes,
while closing mine.

A breath of light,
planted inside.
Provides insight,
serves as a guide.

Hides far behind,
thoughts in my mind,
feels undefined,
and so divine.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

My poem “Handmade ” was published on The Writers Club. I would like to thank their team for showcasing this piece.

Originally Published on July 14 , 2022

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