spell poem with an I

I the poet, is me the poem.

With lilting rhymes
marking the thumps
of this, this, this,
travelling heart.

With floating rhythms
concocting mem’ries–
faded and unseen–
by this, this, this,
restless mind.

With idioms and
similes, hiding the
evidences of familiar
melancholy,
and glee.

With verses sweet
oh, so, sweet,
as honey or
stinging like
a suicidal bee.

With shapes and
sizes, morphing like–
may be, maybe,
mountain, or melting
like the salted sea.

With this, this,
ten bony fingers,

with millions of nerves
and bustling synapses,

from the fenced chest,
to the skull-covered
throne of hierarchy,

this skin, this flesh,
these 206 set of bones,

are bleeding, breathing,
living, flowing poetry.

This, the poet; the poem is me.

12.11.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

Inspired by dVerse Pubtalk: Identity and Perspective.

midnight wish

open palms, wet with
salt of sweat and tears,
reach out outside as
glass pane’s fog clears,

like a yearning new branch
of a house-caged vine
bending, sneaking,
reaching out for sun,

these palms, brined with
my excreted liquids stretch out
to feel the breath of
the cold December wind,

wishing this same
midnight breeze has
kissed your oh,
so, calm sleeping face.

in one brush of air, floating,
against my skin, waiting,
i can be with you,

at least.

12.06.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For he who has loved me wholly, written while listening to Ed Sheeran’s Autumn Leaves.

song soup

take that cup, the
china one, dusting
inside the unlit
cupboard. pour

some notes of
G and D, let
your whisking
fingers swirl,

and swirl,

in the key of
C. see how
the dancing
strings strum this
stew of melody.
now let’s

sprinkle, sprinkle,

the lettered
honey dripping
from the flower
inside your
chest, rest

not, rest not,

those inked
fingers, let not
this batter
end up a mess.

patience, more

patience, stir,
stir and stir,
until this mixture
of tune and
rune form your
tired soul’s
much needed

soup of song.

12.04.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse Poetics: Secret Ingredient 

last leaf

cheers for choked up tears,
cries without list’ning ears.

cheers for wistful dreams
caught or lost in raging streams.

cheers for days of cavalier
where lone strength perseveres,

cheers for named fears
fin’lly found courage sears,

cheers for ‘nother year,
lost hope grows, reappears.

12.04.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse Quadrille #70: Poems of Good Cheer