map of mess

Unfinished coffee,
void of warmth,
aching for last touch.
Oh, the daddy.

Spilled sauces blots
on canvas, wait,
it’s kitchen table top.
Oh, the mommy.

Crumbs of cookies
paved roads for
the hard working ants.
Oh, the eldest.

Traps made of Lego
too tiny, too tough,
barefoot left scathed.
Oh the youngest.

Bedroom scented
with the musk of
used pair of socks.
Oh, the middle child.

This map of mess
proves a house is still
a living,

breathing

home.

10.17.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse Beauty in Ugliness.

b r e a t h e d e a t h

An ache inside the caged loud heart
an itch within each vein of hands

to ink the thumps, restless, so loud
da dum, da dum, da dum, breath found.

Perhaps, like leaves of red autumn
under the full October moon

the muse woke up, and then, looked up,
opened its mouth, and then, fade out,

to kiss the earth, its deepest core,
to die with words, is not dying

at all.

10.12.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse MTB — Iambic Pentameter.

m y c a r r i e r

Elevated eyes can see the throngs of the wheeled machines this morning. Like row of soldiers, though not marching nor moving under the 9 a.m. sun burning.

Feet need not to tiptoe to see the jeepneys, cars, and buses, wearing the colors of the vibrant Philippines, yet tainted with the grey blanket of Manila’s dust and dirt. Honking to complain of the many minutes wasted, as if noise can widen the paved yet narrow road.

After a few steps from the rusted footbridge to the equally rugged jeep destined to be my carrier today, I embarked on my own journey to start the day’s routine. Perhaps, vehicles are armies with different passengers and captains.

Tired rubber wheels screech
against sunbathed, asphalt road,
destination reached.

10.02.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse Haibun Monday: Murmuration.

w i n t e r g u m s

Cold against the bare skin
of warm, deep-lined palm,

colder like a December midnight
against the tastebuds of tongue.

Brick-hard on top of a hand—
so fragile and so soft.

Sweet, chewy ‘side the calcium cave
with teeth-made loft.

Perhaps, humans are winter gums—
sugar-coated, guarded, armored
at first glance,

melting, undressing, when inside
a found home with sincere,
summer warmth.

08.25.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse Mindfulness and Poetry.
Here is the gum I held to birth this poem. 🙂

2018-09-26 12.51.43 1.jpg

 

l i m b o

Mechanical wings
wheeze up, up, up.
Rubber wheels
tiptoe, touch
clouds, up, up,

away from the safe
harbor of the
steady ground towards
the limbo of
oblivion, sometimes
with carpet of laughing

stars.

In between
galaxies and mortal
land, I’m here to meet

you.

08.25.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse Quadrille.

fogged up

photo-20180910162502118

While the roof sings to the tune of the monsoon keys, the leaves outside dance with the storm’s cold breeze, with a warm, fresh cup of coffee, my eyes stare blankly at the road void of wheels and feet— empty— wishing I can say the same with my mind.

The antonym of empty is full yet my thoughts are spilling and brimming a gusty storm of fear, uncertainty.

Today, a rejection letter opened the can of insecurity I thought I have kept locked tightly.

Perhaps, I’ll let the fog sits comfortably on the glass window, and inside my troubled mind.

Word count: 100
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: wildverbs

For FFfAW 182nd by PJ! 😊

Damp Box

The box made of
thin tree-meat walls,
closed by a
curtain door,
sealed with
hole-filled, rusted
roof, again
sinks under the
merciless river
overflow, yet

the eight hearts
it has been carrying
will remain afloat—

with warm love,
with fearless faith,
with ceaseless hope.

08.14.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse Quadrille #62.
Please pray for flood victims in Kerala, India and in the Philippines (including me).

Meaning

Binded but never blinded collection
Of letter conniving to form words
Of timeless wisdom freeing up minds
Kept inside the dark room of ignorance.

08.10.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse: Celebrate with me today!
I’m celebrating National Book Lovers Day!

Soon

Feet floating on
notes of a love song
we call ours,

with blooms of
baby’s breath tuck
in between my
dark hair strands,

each step I make
will lead me towards

the end of my life;
the start of ours.

Take my hand,
it’s now all yours, my love.

08.09.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

Colored Strangers

While I was walking home,
someone called my name.
A genderless body
wearing a sunny smile,
a mist-kissed scent,
and a sunset orange glow.

“Hello, my name is love.
I know I might be hard.
But would you come
with me, tonight?”

Before my surprised tongue
could let a word roll out,
another face came,
wearing the blanket of
a pitch black night,
and the smoke of
a melting rubber
on its upward flight.

“Hey, I am hate.
No, don’t hesitate.
I am an easier
company, mate.”

My unsure feet
step back, one…
and then two…
Inhale and exhale,
my choice is due.

I’d rather be fried
under a sun angry
with love,
than sip
whiskey under
a calm moon
without love.

08.03.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash


For dVerse Unseen Things.