Introducing my summer TBR

“That’s the thing about books. They let you travel without moving your feet.” - Jhumpa Lahiri How's the situation in your country? With this I mean, in relation with this cruel pandemic. We are again in a lockdown and we have been for more than a year now Perks: I have more time to read.… Continue reading Introducing my summer TBR

Two years taste like

my first dhal on our seven-hour train ride— spices still strangers to my soya-sauced-lips. a firework to my palette yet, you were there. with a camera taking notes of each knot on my fore- head, every twitch of my nose. i knew. i need not to glaze myself in honey to be enough for you.… Continue reading Two years taste like

Risk

after Anaïs Nin curled.like a tighter "c",too shy to takeits forehead up,for now.risk.from an asleep seedto a pale stem,leaves-armed, waiting.sun.here we come.here wecome. — 09.06.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via The Seeds Master This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. — For dVerse Poetics: Take a risk! Inspired by the germinating chilli… Continue reading Risk

10 books that introduced me to new genres

Happy Tuesday, fellow TTT-ers! (I am not sure if there is really such thing, so please understand.) We are back to the weekly book-prompts hosted by The Artsy Reader Girl - Top Ten Tuesday with this week's topic being - Books I Loved that Made Me Want More Books Like Them. As she suggested, I… Continue reading 10 books that introduced me to new genres

beautiful girl

after Sara Bareilles twirl, twirl, twirl,how long have you beentwirling, twirling, twirling?you're a top. their words make your self-worth spin,"fat arms,fat tummy,fat fingers.you don't drink,how come you havebeer belly?" a cocoon you builtaround yourself, beautiful girl. don't trade your marshmallow-softnessfor their starved hips,beautiful girl.they're blinded by your wings, glittered, come,you, oh you,beautiful girl. — 04.06.2021©2021… Continue reading beautiful girl

my teeth are missing

once we hear the rustlesof plastic bag, the heavy footsteps of my dad tired from a day-long toil, we know it's here. the treat we call Indian mangoes. Kings ofPhilippines summer (inhouses where cheaper varieties were considered best) dressed in grass-greenits flesh more honey than vinegar. if you're luckyat its center you may getyour own… Continue reading my teeth are missing

the weight of june

out of curiosity, how does it feel to be the middle month free of fireworks, carols,and turkey? the juicymango sun, the nod-ding daffodils, the terracotta leaves, all are not in your hands. June, doyou feel heavy or light as sand? — 01.06.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via Unsplash This work is licensed under a Creative… Continue reading the weight of june

Let me bloom

in between yourhoroscoped-hands’lucky cracks.allow me to takeroot, be anchored sodeep no soap&watercan slip me out of your touch. watch as i unfold—leaf by leaf.before my petals fall, a notice: you areallowed to tastemy fruits, too. — 26.05.2021©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 License.… Continue reading Let me bloom

a thousand times: after The Kite Runner

yes, for you, a thousand times,a thousand times over.hush. don't roll that question mark out of your tongue.you never questionthe lyrics of hummingbirds'afternoon noon song, never doubted each stroke ofsunset, all hues're never wrong. hush, let lick straightyour forehead knots, come listen, closer, for you, a thousand times,a thousand times over. — 26.05.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading… Continue reading a thousand times: after The Kite Runner

moon’s eyes: a haibun

A bat flies towards the berry tree. If it has a fruit on its mouth, it's too dark to see. The dinner's curry cooks with cumin, turmeric, kashmiri, with some cinnamon bark and cardamom, too. Afternoon's rain anointed the soil just before the stars woke up. The spiced-breeze eats up the last tinge of petrichor.… Continue reading moon’s eyes: a haibun