What’s the most money you’ve ever spent on a meal? Was it worth it?
What’s the cost of a plate, if the heart feels fed?
Gold on the table or a word once said?
Is it the flavour or who you’re with that stays?
Was it money well spent, or just one of those days?
A window into time, sepia-stained,
Where shutters blinked at horse and rain.
Outside the boulangerie, calm and wide,
A woman stood, not posed, but pride.
The clatter of wheels, the rustle of bread,
Stories unsaid in the hats they shed.
No filters, flash, or digital frame,
Just quiet lives, and louder names.
Simi
Framed through the lens of Arca
The cars stood still, the breeze held tight,
As amber spilled from the edge of light.
No rush, no race, just sky and flame,
A quiet close, no one to name.
The trees stood still, the silence grew,
And twilight blushed in dusky hue.
The wind swept bold through restless trees,
It sang in swirls, it danced with ease.
We chase the hours, miss the glow,
Yet sunsets teach what time won’t show.
That joy is found when all is still,
When hearts align with evening’s will.
The day withdrew, but left its grace,
A golden hush, the sky’s embrace.
Simi
Framed through the lens of Arca. Thank you for holding stillness in motion.
Scour the news for an entirely uninteresting story. Consider how it connects to your life. Write about that.
The paper said the library changed its floor,
Soft beige now lines where silence pours.
No launch, no fanfare, no breaking tweet,
Just threads beneath a thousand feet.
And isn’t life a little like that too?
New ground, old dreams, a quieter view.
Not every day must thunder or shine,
Sometimes change just walks in… soft-spined.
List 30 things that make you happy.
Morning light on a quiet face,
A handwritten letter, sealed with grace.
Laughter that spills without a cue,
A song that feels like it remembers you.
Pages that smell like old-time rain,
Music that sings, even on the quietest lane.
The weight of a blanket on a cold day,
A stranger’s smile lighting the way.
Fingers laced after a long, lost fight,
Peacock’s dance, as the clouds sieve the light.
A tree you always pass but never name,
Returning somewhere and it feels the same.
Cookies still warm from the oven’s heat,
Words that rhyme when your heart skips a beat.
A child’s voice calling out to play,
The scent of chai at the close of day.
Rain when you’ve nowhere to be,
A deep breath taken consciously.
The click of a pen starting something new,
Someone whispering, “I believe in you.”
Wind that plays softly with your hair,
Finding poetry just floating in air.
Realising you’ve healed from something vast,
A photograph that brings back the past.
Fireflies blinking in a hush-lit night,
The ease of not needing to be right.
Dancing barefoot across your room,
A hug that knows exactly when to resume.
A quiet smile from an elder’s lips,
A blessing offered with trembling fingertips.
The joy lies in almost everything,
It waits for us to start noticing.
Describe one habit that brings you joy.
I don’t chase habits, don’t count or bind,
Joy lives outside the patterned mind.
No need to measure, strive, or show,
It rises quiet, and starts to flow.
What are you curious about?
I marvel at an ant’s small stride,
Then dream beneath the starry tide.
A leaf that twirls, a mountain wide,
All stir the seeker deep inside.
I chase no end, no final goal,
Just threads of wonder feed my soul.
Write about a random act of kindness you’ve done for someone.
She gripped the rail with trembling grace,
Each step a mountain, slow to trace.
I held her hand, we climbed as one,
No medals won, but hearts were spun.
How would you describe yourself to someone who can’t see you?
Like morning tea with a spicy twist,
A breeze that teases, hard to resist!
Half poetry, half curious spark,
You’ll guess I’m smiling in the dark.
What traditions have you not kept that your parents had?
I light the lamp, I wear the thread,
But skip the scripts the elders said.
Not every ritual makes me whole,
I follow few, but with my soul.
Simi says... 