Four Bullets

One. Two. Three. Four. His seven-decade-old hands hold tight on the rusting rails of his lightless room's window. His darkened eyes stare at the now fallen tree and then to the triumphant men who successfully defeated the lush pine. The lush pine planted and reared by his wife. His wife who died last month. He… Continue reading Four Bullets

Red: A Rondelet

Dripping red blood from her pale wrist she cut deeply. Dripping red blood screams her pain she kept hidden, locked. She relish the pain silently, her final seconds end slowly--- dripping red blood. — Photo credit: Unsplash In response to OctPoWriMo 2016 by Morgan Dragonwillow‘s Day 25. — The Rondelet is a relatively short poem using the entire opening… Continue reading Red: A Rondelet

Nature’s Calling: A Naani

If grief’s a black smoke we’ll all be blind now. Killings, murders, hate are they nature’s calling? Or we’re just all fan of dying? — Photo credit: Unsplash In response to OctPoWriMo 2016 by Morgan Dragonwillow‘s Day 21. — The Naani is a stanzaic form found at Shadow Poetry and is most often an observation of human relations or… Continue reading Nature’s Calling: A Naani

Shameful: A Spoon River Verse

You stood above me your hands touching absent letters in my nameless grave. Clearly, that’s how much you hate having me. Even a name, just a name, feels so expensive, so costly. With shameful smile you begin to cry for a soul you willingly let die. The heartbeat you created, is the same life you ended. Are… Continue reading Shameful: A Spoon River Verse

Porous: A Palette*

Pile of pans and plates all dried-dirt-kissed, beside untouched porous sponge. Dripping faucet, says tap, tap, tap. Below rusted sink mice munch, munch, munch. Blood-bathed body, lifeless eyes wide open. Silently decays, alone, badly broken. — Photo credit: Unsplash In response to OctPoWriMo 2016 by Morgan Dragonwillow‘s Day 8. --- Palette  creates a vivid word painting within a brief… Continue reading Porous: A Palette*

Used to be Mine: A Song-based Fiction

Stranger. That is what I am. Sitting people all in black and white, I am estranged to everyone, except one person. She is the only human who knows me here. But she can never say who I am. — She’s imperfect but she tries. She is good but she lies. — Silence. Murmurs. Quiet sobs. The humans that… Continue reading Used to be Mine: A Song-based Fiction

Deep, Dark, Dreary

Her heart ripped her apart. Now it’s my part to take all her wrath. Sharp-as-a-diamond knife cuts through me to end her life. Oh, my pain, is it her gain? Oh, will this cut, erase her hurt? Oh, will this wound, do any good? I froze as her blood flows. I feel the nerves died… Continue reading Deep, Dark, Dreary

Dual Hands

The same rugged, masculine yet gentle hands which tickled each nerves and gave me sensual goosebumps, have weaved yarnful of lies that ended my life. — ©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo credit: Philip Estrada In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week Thirty-Three. If you want to join, here are the simple rules: Write… Continue reading Dual Hands

Forever’s Ending

Today’s the first day of my last day with you. I’m a bit confuse, though, because my heart’s melancholic yet it’s full of joy. Six decades, six decades and four years to be exact. That’s how long we have been together. A lot asked how we remained committed for so long, how we kept the… Continue reading Forever’s Ending

Seasons: Epilogue

First three parts were published last Tuesday, Wednesday and yesterday. Warm wind’s blowing. Loud silence’s piercing. With blank mind and an about-to-burst heart, I remained still as I look at your grave. Our story ended, more than five years ago. On that fateful autumn day, when I waited for you. But you never waited for… Continue reading Seasons: Epilogue