temporary guests

your body is not an apartment
available for temporary love guests.

your body is a home, a permanent residence,
that deserves consistency, and a love that stays.

if he shows no plans of staying,
darling, don’t let him in.

09.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Jason Schjerven on Unsplash

Apologies for being MIA, dear readers and poets and friends! Life is happening aka work is happening. 🙂 I miss writing and participating on dVerse! 🙂 I’m regularly on Instagram as posting is a bit easier there while I’m on the move. 🙂 If you are there, let me know. 🙂
Have a lovely weekend, everyone! ❤
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when rain reigns

while i try
to rein on my
stubborn and elusive
sense of worth,

the rain reigns
against the sun rays
with its freed droplets
of crystals
kissing the waiting,
parched earth.

may i find
the purpose of my
birth, with the petrichor’s
coming mirth.

09.14.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Liv Bruce on Unsplash

In response to Quadrille #40 by whimsygizmo and Rein ’em in! lillian! (i hope i am not too late! :D)
dverse

 

history and poetry

“Among other things,
you’ll find that
you’re not the first person who
was ever confused and
frightened and
even sickened by
human behavior.

You’re by no means alone on
that score, you’ll be excited and
stimulated to know.

Many, many men have been
just as troubled morally and
spiritually as you are right now.

Happily, some of them kept
records of their troubles.
You’ll learn from them—if
you want to.

Just as someday, if
you have something to offer,
someone will learn
something from you.

It’s a beautiful
reciprocal arrangement.
And it isn’t education.
It’s history.
It’s poetry.”

—  J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye


This is originally a quote from this infamous classic book (which I am ashamed I haven’t got my hands on yet). I chopped it into some phrases and lines to make it look like poetry. It is a technique (I forgot the name, unfortunately) I learned from an online poetry course which is about the use of a quote / paragraph from a book and breaking it down into lines to transform it into a poem.

This quote spoke to me. Isn’t it nice and true? 🙂

Happy weekend my dear friends!

mummed magic

the scarlet leaf
of the almost bare autumn tree,
s  l  o  w  l  y , ever s  l  o  w  l  y ,
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
from its home twig
to its grave earth.

the crystal snowflake
of the heavy, winter cloud
g e n t l y , ever g e n t l y ,
d
e
s
c
e
n
d
i
n
g
from its throne in heaven
to its melting ground.

the brave sprout
of the fresh, spring seed
s o f t l y , ever s o f t l y ,
e
s
c
a
p
i
n
g
its cotyledons’ cave
towards the sky’s bright, open shade.

the soft, infant rays
of the smiling, summer sun
g e n t l y , ever g e n t l y,
b
u
r
s
t
i
n
g
into tiny sparkles of warmth
to kiss the waiting land.

these are earth’s mummed magic,
they need no noise to be majestic.

P.S. Is it evident that I fantasize about four seasons too much? 😀
09.06.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Matt Lewis on Unsplash

In response to Magic by Paul of paul scribbles.
So my poetic pals, your task if you choose to accept it, is to pen a poem using the word MAGIC in some form or write a piece that is quite simply MAGICAL. You know you can.
dverse

season singing

traversing the same route five times a week presents me a repeating view again and again and yes, again. the sight of houses, from well-made to thatched huts, occasionally interrupted by massive spaces filled with wild grasses or field of rice stalks, and once with a huge mall. the neighborhood will then be replaced with the passing silhouettes of trees lined prim and proper along the edge of the paved, wide highways. then the homes and factories and taller buildings will wave hello as if to signal the end of the highway and the beginning of the honk-filed and jam-packed city road.

with every single day passing, only the heat of the sun and the cold raindrop dripping are the signals of the Philippines’ two seasons’ ending — wet and dry. (and most of the time, like now, they seem to be fond of overlapping. like summer for the day and thunder and lightning for the evening.) as much as i wish to witness the season’s undressing from winter, spring, summer, and fall, i am only blessed by the summer sun and the sometimes gentle sometimes harsh monsoon showers. 

yet still blessed, yes, for i am among the billions of soul experiencing the warmth of morning sun and the darkness of the velvet evening. to live and to be living, itself is a blessing.

the summer sun and
the monsoon rain take their turns.
my grateful heart sings.

09.05.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Devil_Jameson RAGE on Unsplash

In response to Haibun Monday: Komorebi by Toni of kanzensakura.
I would like you all to write a haibun about how you are affected by season changes, if you do any special activities, what you have done in the past or have planned for the future season between seasons
dverse