chaney

On the shores of St. Croix, jewels were found not in locked, glossy standees but in between bare sand— shards of antique china, broken by gavels of time, sneaked in nooks, crannies of the island’s beach line, some say they are from the cruising Europeans with broken wares falling, some believe they were looted, destroyed… Continue reading chaney

pocket: a 100-word story

after Kimberly Blaeser's When We Sing of Might at 3pm, the sun wears my 20's feet. unsure how bright to glow yet certain that the west exist to swallow it like a sea's wide mouth. i am almost 30. as i blow more candles, i find myself ageing like my mother and the mothers before her.… Continue reading pocket: a 100-word story

sink me: a haiku

floating seaweed by Fay Collins sea blue paints my lips---grinning red. ready to sinkinside seaweeds' arms. — 11.25.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via https://faycollinsart.co.uk/This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. For dVerse: Tuesday Poetics: Fay Collins revisited. - Wrote a haiku for this painting by Fay Collins. As a tropical woman born in the lovely… Continue reading sink me: a haiku

safe

when i find it hard to see things that can make my old heart glad, i remember the scared eyes of my one-year-old self. my small arms hugging my then thin dad. at early 20's, with his hair middle-parted. on his left hand was a pink, birthday balloon, on his lips a small smile. his… Continue reading safe

talking to myself: a wayra

hush. whispers the moonto my walking worry. shh.shallow faith, sink and savorsuch unsure shore. in your night dress, count holy graces. hush. — 11.19.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via UnsplashThis work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. For dVerse: Poetry Form: The Wayra - Thank you, Grace, for featuring my poem there and for levelling… Continue reading talking to myself: a wayra

our Christmas lights

Made of wood - old unnamedwood - our tiny home. Fragilein the surface. Look beneath.After a minimum of 20 typhoons per year, it's still proud after acouple of decades. Unlikethe tamarind tree, the acacia,the guava, the hibiscus, thebanana. September is clothe in blinking little lights. The countdown forthe manger starts. It is a season of… Continue reading our Christmas lights

letter to the sky

aboveearth's ceilingused to be a floating sea where flying boats careen sofree. until, likeautumn leaves, millions are dead. tiny things inhaled-death. open up like daffodilsof baby spring baiting for bees. unzip the clouds. allow hellosto happenagain. — 09.14.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via Unsplash This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International… Continue reading letter to the sky

hearing hummingbird: a novilinee*

Behind the grills of painted metal, Itry to find the source of song I'm hearing,some leaves started dancing with wind so dry,then comes the busy wings flapping, flapping.A hummingbird with honeyed beak, tiny,oblivious of watching eyes - for good.No one wants to be watched when it's windy,and nectar hides inside the flower's hood."Close your eyes… Continue reading hearing hummingbird: a novilinee*

hiding: an acrostic plus*

sonnets no longer needed,era of legend-loveended before our birthmonth cracked its firstegg yolk sun, surelysome lovers of eagle know neverever should wings yearn for the sunoverly close or turn tougly ashes no poet will mourn about. — 08.25.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via Unsplash This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International… Continue reading hiding: an acrostic plus*

bang: a quadrille

walking bones and fleshtalking nerves cartilagesmachinery - dark inside - yet summer warm with heart as suni wonder those with long long gunsas they fire bang see blood and brain splattered who is the god who honors what their masked lips prayed? — 08.20.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo by freestocks on Unsplash This… Continue reading bang: a quadrille