Upon a hill, where grasses gleam,
a golden hawk sat in day dream.
Its neck turned sideways, eyes so wide,
watching the wind and world collide.

High above, on a slender tree,
small chaffinch chirped so cheerfully.
Rich orange neck and belly bright,
soft feathers brushed with brown and white.

“Good day,” the little bird did say,
“I see you watching far away.
You sit so still, so calm, so wise,
what do you see beyond the skies?”

The hawk soon spoke, thoughtful in tone,
“I think of how we birds have grown,
you’re small and swift, I’m strong and slow,
but still, we share the sky we know.”

Chaffinch tilted his tiny head,
“true, we are different,” then he said,
“But still we talk, and still we sing,
no need for hate or quarreling.”

“We don’t compete, we don’t demand,
we simply live and understand,”
The hawk replied with steady gaze,
“People can learn from simpler ways.”

And side by side, though far in size,
they watched the world with wiser eyes.
A hawk and chaffinch, calm and free,
can coexist in harmony.

As they both paused, one branch, one ground,
while quiet winds blew all around.
Two birds, two worlds, yet side by side,
great lesson whispered countryside.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 296 July 07, 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

A dream upon a ship so still,
anchored firm in a twilight chill,
a hush of sea, a pulse of air,
with salt and silence everywhere.

The world a blur, yet sharp and clear,
warm scented breeze dissolved her fears.
up left, a lighthouse stood alone,
its tower cut from weathered stone.

It blinked a rhythm slow and true,
against a sky of charcoal blue.
the window glowed, a tiny spark,
a friend within the peaceful dark.

A waterfall, both wild and neat,
fell tumbling fast, yet truly sweet,
into a basin carved with care,
a mirror holding nature’s flair.

Then down again in threads of glass,
it spilled and shimmered, bold and fast,
as if the mountain wept in light,
to mourn the silence of the night.

She woke with water in her ear,
the scent of sea still soft and near,
and for a breath, the world was wide,
as gleams of light sparkled inside.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 295 June 30, 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

She sits beneath the window light,
her world composed in black and white.
camera held with steady grace,
to frame the city’s silent face.

A leather book, its pages closed,
beside her rests, in weathered pose,
the title worn by time and care,
but one line lingers, faint and bare:
“I am not afraid of failure,”
wise message is custom tailored.
she flicked her hair, broke from deep haze,
a sign of hope to drench her days.

She lifts the lens with steady grace,
and frames the city’s shifting face.
Clock tower tall, its hands mid flight,
large buildings cast in golden light.

Yet closer still, the world turns strange,
dark shadows move beyond her range.
Figures soon blur, like thoughts unfound,
distorted shapes move without sound.
Their edges smear, their faces gone,
like thoughts half formed before the dawn.
Distorted shapes, unsure, unclear,
yet somehow oddly drawing near.

She clicks, then waits, her breath held tight,
between the shadow and the light.
With book in hand and lens in eye,
watches as reflections pass by.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 293 June 16, 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

Tower of books, spines turned away,
their titles hushed, deep thoughts at bay.
Arranged with care from large to slight,
a quiet climb from dark to light.

Each page within holds untold lore,
wise words declare what came before.
They lean in silence, ever proud,
like wisdom dressed in linen shroud.

Beside this stack, a dinner scene,
fine ladies meet, each one a queen.
Tables are set, united space,
bright laughter softens every face.

Beautiful women, poised, aware,
endless stories and smiles to share,
then one jumps up to take a stand,
a microphone placed on her hand.

She speaks, and all the hush ignites,
like unseen books that bloom with lights.
her voice, both gentle and profound,
converts doubts into solid ground.

No spine revealed, no title shown,
yet every tale is clearly known.
For here are stories clothed in grace,
living texts that time won’t erase.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 292 June 09, 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

A full moon hangs on this cool night,
its glow reflects shimmering light,
a fleeting shape cuts through the sky,
upon her face, a plane flies by.

Down far below where waves retreat,
a turtle lifts its ancient feet,
it climbs the shore with patient grace,
the sea behind, the clouds in place.

Above, it hums radiant stars,
bound for places set near and far,
a spark of motion in so deep,
while underneath the world’s asleep.

One journeys through the silent sky,
the other crawls where water lies,
two travelers on different seas,
both chasing distant destinies.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 291 June 02, 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

Beneath the sky, peacefully gray,
an old man sits, to end the day.
Great wisdom sets his weathered face,
a threadbare coat, outlived by grace.

Black plastic bag slumps at his feet,
secrets kept in silence, discreet.
Beside him, in a hint of shade,
tiny cat rests, friendship is made.

Acknowledgement, with patient eyes,
watching the world that slowly flies.
Tail curled in a half closed loop,
sweet moment in the twilight stoop.

The bench is worn, like hands that shake,
cracked wood remembers each small ache.
It holds him still, it bears his weight,
as time pools round like water, fate.

Held gaze is cast to distant right,
where colors bloom in shades of light.
There, in a hush of pale lagoon,
where breezes hum a forgotten tune.

Flamboyance stands with fragile pride,
flamingos drifting, side by side.
Their mirrored stare, their painted plume,
contrasts the bench, brightens up gloom.

Around them, trees in tangled mass,
rise like tall walls where shadows pass,
fortress of green, so lush and tight,
cloaking the edge of true insight.

The cat beneath, he sits above,
all silent aches, reach out for love.
Yet there they are, in dusk’s embrace,
relaxing in their happy place.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 289 May 20, 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

She sat still in the concrete cold,
deep secrets hushed whispers so bold.
Left arm exposed beneath her sleeve,
a scarlet script that would not leave:
bold “Love yourself, not me” it read,
a tender phrase the ink had bled.

Before her rest, on stone so grey,
a clutch of blooms in soft display.
Burnt orange petals, bright and thin,
fragile flames provoke inner grins.
They relaxed near the edge with grace,
as twilight kissed her shadowed face.

Behind her blurred, the city climbed,
towers stood tall and streets aligned.
A thousand windows shimmered hues,
but none could frame a clearer view,
the flowers smiled at words she wore,
a quiet heart that wanted more.

The wind would tug her unkept hair,
but still she sat, untouched by care.
Her gaze was calm, each exhale slow,
as if she knew how to let go.
Warm feelings paint a love that stays,
separates truths from trauma’s haze.

And as the evening veiled the sky,
her crimson ink refused to lie.
She traced each line with new insight,
a vow to leave, but not to fight.
Love in herself would set her free,
to not be bound by memories.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 288 May 12, 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
Do you know how loved you are?
Though heartbeats feel far away,
and dark nights outshine bright days.

There’s a light you cannot see,
once it burns it never flees.
Sadness whispers, “You’re alone”,
with connections firmly sewn.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
inner lies, can stretch too far.
Heavy weights are gifts of fear,
so perceptions seem unclear.

All the doubts that cloud blue skies,
is a trick behind hurt eyes.
Although most are unaware,
someone out there always cares.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
terminate imagined scars,
Breathe joy in, and let it stay,
till deep sorrows drift away.

Faith held through happier days.
still sparkle in countless ways.
True grace can not die, it sleeps,
love surrounds you, ever deep.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 285 May 05, 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

Hat wearing shadow, slowly sways,
in cemented grass woven days,
as fields of nature break apart,
to trace this figure’s absent heart.

Upon his face where eyes should be,
dandelions paint all he sees,
bright golden heads create a flame,
to witness how he plays life’s game.

Behind him, where nature prevails,
visions of hope embrace and sail,
a mirror rests, square, cracked, and still,
pressed by the earth, to free his will.

Within its glass, a unique hand,
two palms that rise to understand,
cupping a spray of wild delight,
a burst of flowers, bloom so bright.

Color bleeds in trembling seams,
roses and cherry blossom streams,
a tapestry that dares to glow,
places once barren, start to grow.

Shadow, flower, stone, and glass,
each symbols of how moments pass,
yet somewhere in a fractured beam,
the broken earth relearns to dream.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 285 April 28, 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕