thawing

Here. Let’s share
my mitten-hand.
I’m from the tropics—
tower of sea and sand.
I know. I know
you understand.

Here. Let’s share
my early coffee cup,
blessed with its own
shadow-thin cloud.
No, darling,
don’t look up.

Here. Come here.
My wrapped arms
warm and raw.
Melt with me before
this dear mountain thaws.

19.01.2021
©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
For dVerse Poetics: Connections
Happy to finally be back. Happy New Year, poets and friends on dVerse!

shhh: a pleiades*

sing to me Polaris’ song
steady, constant of the north.
show my midnight lullaby
softly rocking, back and forth.
see the map on my pillow
salted as sunbathing seas.
shoo my fears, shoo them for me.

11.25.2020
©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
For dVerse Poetics: Stars that count
*“Pleiades” is a star cluster in Taurus constellation and is also called as “Seven Sisters”. (Greek Mythology)
Going by its properties the form “Pleiades” was invented in 1999 by Craig Tigerman. It consists of seven lines, each line starting with the same letter as the title. The title is a single word.
Later on Hortensia Anderson restricted the length of each line to six syllables. Hence, this form can be defined as a seven line poem with each line beginning with the same letter as the title and having six syllables in each line. The title must be of one word only.
The North Star or Pole Star – aka Polaris – is famous for holding nearly still in our sky while the entire northern sky moves around it. That’s because it’s located nearly at the north celestial pole, the point around which the entire northern sky turns. Polaris marks the way due north.

take a seat and see

rolled sunset crawls
to kiss whale’s home,
persimmon spilled.

wilted leaves arch
towards foliage tomb,
autumn fulfilled.

cold keys hang
void of fingers, warm,

bite the seed of hope
will it burst some
bitter crumb?

consider the possibility
of wings once
our breaths

succumb

11.17.2020
©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
For dVerse Quadrille #116: Poem Those Possibles

wishes in the wind

i wish i’ve puppy-paws
to dig through the muck
of this year.

i wish i’ve puppy-eyes
to bend my
Master’s will.

i wish i’ve a puppy-nose
to smell happiness
from a mile.

i wish i need not
to wish for a real,
real smile.

11.03.2020
©2020 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.
For dVerse In need of a happiness project?

hell’s window

there is a painting
outside my window,

hell magneting
the day sun’s glow.

stain of last night
rests on my pillow—

my unraveling
with moonlight’s bow.

feels a few feet from
my reach, the sky,

if only dusk can
give me wings to fly.

10.20.2020
©2020 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.
For dVerse Quadrille #114 – Poetical Magnetism
Finally, a quadrille after a looong time. ❤

wait on wheat

ebb and flow goes
the salty, blue sea,
how many seashells has
it robbed from thee?

may they be conch filled
with your childhood dreams,
or the prayers of your
aged-mind’s streams,

may they be shell-hearts
you’ve always long to hold,
too sharp to touch,
too tough to mold,

or perhaps a silent wish
your tongue not dared say,
with dark whispers saying
“it’s far as night and day”.

but ebb and flow goes
the salty, blue sea,
the waves will form and
foam to surprise thee.

in this life, i’ve learned,
what’s meant to be yours
will always find its way back
to your waiting, wheat shores.

sit by the sand,
sip some warm tea,
remember. this waiting
will shape who you’ll be.

08.26.2020
©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
For dVerse Poetics I am hosting today: Poetics: Waiting on Wheat

steps to stay sane: a quadrille

fingers bumbling on
blank spaces of both
the web and the tree’s skin.

grabbing yellows from
bumblebees to paint
sunsets where freedom wins.

stirring orange from
dawn to make a cup
of giggling cinnamon.

stealing sweetness
from apple’s bum
to have some sanity won.

08.25.2020
©2020 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.
For dVerse Quadrille #110: Shall we bum around a bit?

shedding: a haiku

choir of crickets hum
tonight’s final song, a clown
sheds its mask, alone.

08.20.2020
©2020 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.
For dVerse Poetics — Clowning Around

Soundless Confession

Sshhh…
I am confessing.

I am louder when
my mouth is locked,
when my tongue
is still and numb—
a willing prisoner
inside the jail of
sharp, tough teeth
guarded by a pair
of soft, stubborn lips
firm to never let
a single word escape.

Ssshhh…
I am confessing.

My throat and
vocal chord are as
parched as Sahara
in blazing September,
yet I need not
any monsoon rain.
This pen will carry
the voice unheard and hiding.
Never will it dry even when
no one’s listening.

Ssshhh…
I am confessing.
Read. Don’t listen.

08.01.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to dVerse Sounds of Silence.