A book I found after more than 45 years!

June 6, 2023, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a lost book (or many). What is the book’s significance? Who lost it, or who found it? How does this element fit into a poem, memory, or a specific genre? Go where the prompt leads!


I love reading. As a kid, I had a membership of the British Council Library. I discovered many writers here, like Victor Canning. I was instantly hooked on his trilogy about King Arthur, The Crimson Chalice. The library had only the first two books of the series, and the last one was missing!

I looked for this book repeatedly but didn’t find it for years. It was only when I was in America that I found a used copy of this trilogy on Amazon. I finally read the last book that was lost to me for almost 45-48 years.


Word count; 99

( For anyone interested, the books were ; The Crimson Chalice, The Circle of Gods,and The immortal wound )

In response to; 99 Word Story, hosted by Charli Mills



Sunset glow opens the doors

The sunset glow opens the doorway

A doorway to the past which

I had kept firmly closed for a while

Some memories that were to be kept hidden

To be cherished like a treasure

Only to be enjoyed when nostalgia strikes

Memories of the sweetest, rarest moments

That may lose some of their charm if relived

………Once too often

Sharing a post from November 7, 2021, previously written for Paula PCF prompt.

In response to;Weekly prompts- The door, hosted by Sue W and GC



Recalling elusive memories

Today, let’s explore memory! Write a haibun that alludes to memory, any way you construe it.


I’ve written about my late mother in my posts recently. She passed away when I was just two months short of my sixth birthday. In the naivety of a child in the 1960’s I had no idea what death was. When I was told the news I asked my dad, when will she be coming back?

The tragedy of loss at a young age is that you don’t get to mourn that loss at one time. I mourned her at every stage of my growing up. I have vague memories of her dressing up to go out in the evening with my dad, wearing a white sari and silver earrings.

Her image dream like

The figure lit by shadows

Her perfume lingered


Elusive vision

I wish I remembered her

She slips from my mind


I hope I’ve done this right. I’ve challenged myself to try different poetic challenges hence this attempt.

In response to; dVerse haibun Monday- Memory, hosted by Frank this week



The impact of fear and/or anger

Tranquil Thursday

This week Maggie asks;

How have fear, anxiety and anger played a role in your life and how have you managed those responses?

All three emotions have played a role in my life.


I don’t fear things ( except ferociously barking dogs) but I feared making people unhappy or upset with me. I’ve written about this before as well and I now realize that it’s part of my inherent nature, and also a consequence of how I lost my mother as a young child.

I have recently realized the futility of this fear and am working on making myself rise above this desire to seek approval from everyone. It’s hard at my age but it’s an effort I need to make.


My fear of upsetting people gave birth to social anxiety. My anxiety manifested itself as repeated headaches/migraines-type symptoms with such pain that I would have to miss school. This went on till I was a young mom and my husband had to rush me to the ER to get painkillers injections in the middle of the night, many times.

It was with the help of my late father-in-law that I started to loosen the grip of this anxiety and got rid of those intense headaches. He was a great visionary who could see life clearly and would offer advice and comfort to anyone seeking it.


Luckily, anger was the least of my problems. I rarely get angry and even when I do it’s usually hidden inside my heart and not expressed. I feel that anger is a very destructive emotion and harms us more than it harms others. A few times that I’ve gotten angry and spoken out are the times I’ve regretted deeply. Now I try to keep quiet when I do get angry, and thankfully it is rare.


In response to; Tranquil Thursday # 13, hosted by Maggie



Narcissi- How I love them


II. Brandon’s prompt guidelines

Sweet April showers, do spring May flowers.–Thomas Tusser (c. 1524 – 1580)

  • Now that May has arrived, I’d like you to write a descriptive poem about your favorite flower; 
    • Write about its fragrance (if it has one), its look, and/or how it makes you feel; 
    • It can also be a metaphor for growth, romance, or renewal; 
    • There’s no restriction on form or device.


Delicate beauty

Often underrated

I love it’s fragrance

Takes me back to my childhood

For every year near my birthday

I’d see bouquets of narcissi on the

Flower stands, in hand of vendors

Offering them to passersby cheap

Just one whiff of it’s intoxicating scent

And I’m ready to open my wallet

Narcissi, adorning my living room

For weeks till I’m ready to replace

The old bouquet with a fresh one


In response to W3 # 53, prompted this week by Brandon, and hosted by David



The view through the window

The photo is from Yi Wei at Unsplash.com

For the visually challenged writer, the photo shows a man riding a bicycle in the bike lane in a large city.


He stood there for a long time watching them through the window. His grandchildren were gathered around the dinner table and enjoying the meal. His son and his wife were busy talking, probably about their jobs, and their young family. A fleeting moment of regret gripped his heart and a few tears flowed from his eyes.

With resolve showing in his cobalt blue eyes, he shook those regrets aside and got back on his bicycle, and headed back towards home. The Greyhound bus which he passed him on his way back reminded him of the numerous vacations they had taken as a family when his son was younger. Now the rift between him and his son was unbridgeable. He hadn’t met his daughter-in-law or grandchildren in a long time. The quarrel with his son had caused a blockage of family feelings, resulting in total estrangement.

Mathew wanted to reconcile with his son but he was afraid of rejection from him. Perhaps, he should show courage and ask for forgiveness from his son and his family. After all, he and his late wife were to be blamed for this situation.

He took out a cotton hanky and wiped his eyes. Perhaps he will visit them again tomorrow and this time he will knock on the door and give the children the presents he had for them in his backpack.


fleeting | cotton | greyhound | cobalt | blockage

In response to FFFC # 217, hosted by Fandango

Also included FSS # 95, hosted by Fandango

Also included Greg’s five words weekly






Need to downsize

Clutter may rob us of the life we imagined or prevent us from creating a new vision for our future.”― Lisa J. Shultz.

This week the Wednesday Challenge on partner Susan and my site is the word Downsize.


Having lived more than half my life

The need to downsize is felt like an irresistible itch

Too many things stuffed in the closets

Too many knick-knacks adorning the tables

Where will I wear all these shoes and clothes?

To whom will I show all these lovely collectibles?

Time to give away or even sell things I don’t need

Lighten the load of possessions is what I want

And while I am at it I might just as well

Unencumbered all that is weighing down my heart

Get rid of all the useless grudges and resentments

Wash away the bad feelings and memories

Be light as a feather with only good reminders

Of a life lived well with full fervor and joy


In response to; Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – Downsize, hosted by Sue W and GC



Color of hope

April 24, 2023, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about the color of hope. Who is in need of hope and why? How can you use color to shape the story? Pick a color, any color. Go where the prompt leads!


She was gradually losing her sight. What was once sharp and clear was now blurry and out of focus. She had the means to get treated but the doctors she consulted, didn’t have the answer she wanted. They told her to make peace with this coming disability as there was no option to cure it.

She walked among the spring flowers to imprint their beautiful colors of hope onto her mind forever. She saw beautiful works of art to absorb their beauty in her heart.

When she finally lost her sight, she had beautiful memories forever in her heart.


Word count: 99

Written in response to 99 Word Story, hosted by Charli Mills



A tour guide to the world of stories

Logo by Donna @ Retirement Reflections



Being a tour guide in the physical world is a role that I might aspire to but would find it difficult to fulfill. So I’ve chosen quotes regarding being a tour guide to the world of imagination.

There is a world that we live in physically

And then there is a world created in our imagination

Both have their important roles to play in our lives

The physical world, we explore each and every day

The world of imagination is sometimes neglected by us

Explore this realm for it contains treasures unknown, unimagined

I have slipped on the mantle of a writer

I have the goal to show you the sights

Of a world that exists inside the covers

Pages that come alive with excitement and adventure

Together we will go on a journey of discovery

And explore the world of possibilities yet unexplored

Remember the small rectangle card that was the passport

That took you inside a library and gave you access

To thousands of books in dozens of bookshelves

And a kind libertarian always there to help and guide you

Towards the books best suited to your age and interests

With nostalgia I remember the excitement I used to feel

When it was my day to visit the library and to check out books

Every week without fail I got four new books in exchange

For the ones I already had read and experienced the adventures of


Written in response to;WQ #15: Be a Tour Guide, hosted by Marsha