Tag: fear

paper dreams

areadingwriter23 Comments

i have a pocketful of folded paper cranes,
inked with agony, worry, fear of my boneless brain.
numb, loss, i’ll wander, maybe after i watch them burn.

—
08.31.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Dev Benjamin on Unsplash
In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week 83.
If you want to join, here are the simple rules:
  • Write three lines inspired by the photo prompt.
  • Link back to this post.
  • Tag your post with 3LineTales (so we can find you in the Reader).
  • Read and comment on other TLT participants’ lines.
  • Have fun.
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Between My Bleeding Lines’ Readers: NJ

areadingwriter19 Comments

Dear Bravery

Dear Bravery,

Why do you hide? Do not be afraid of me. Me being around is not necessarily a bad thing. I am good at times and needed too. But if you hide and disappear and vanish into the darkness, the humans we reside in will see no light. They will forever be a friend of the darkness. You need to show up with your friend courage and help the humans move forward. Take them through it all slowly and help them in times of their need. You see, I am not permanent. But I could be, if the humans allow me to. Do not let them. Do not let them make me a permanent home in their beings. If I do, then I will live in them forever and that’s not good. They need you more than they need me. So, please, do not hide.

Love,
Fear.

©NJ

NJ is the epitome of so much in so few and there is nothing more beautiful than raw. She writes poetry with brevity and depth. But when she writes long poems, you cannot help but be lost on how her words cascade. (please do check her out). Her feedback on my book means so much to me as she is one of my fave writers too. 🌹
Thank you for the looove, sweetie. ❤

—

(As the release of my BETWEEN MY BLEEDING LINES nears (this month!), I would like to feature the amazing writers who guided me (technically and morally) all through out this nine-month journey. I am blessed to have them.)

Fog of Fear

areadingwriter44 Comments

inside a cage filled with fog of fear, she stays alone trying to heal the scars of the past of all that is done, the ache of the present she cannot share with anyone, the uncertainty of the future coming with each rising sun.

will i be able to stop looking back and leave the footsteps i have made? will i regret the decisions i have made? will i be able to see a better tomorrow or all that’s left is heart’s sorrow?

as morning rays slip through the tiny cracks of her cave, she cannot help but let hope grow inside. with the leftover, brittle faith she holds on to, she’s coming out. she’s coming out.

she finally choose
to sink not in fog of fear
but in sea of faith.

—
P.S. Yes, she is me.
P.P.S. Written with a tear-stained face and with ears listening to this song:
Your love so deep is washing over me
Your face is all I seek, you are my everything
Jesus Christ, You are my one desire
Lord, hear my only cry, to know you all my life
—
04.18.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash
In response to dVerse‘s Haibun Monday: The only thing we have to fear… by hayesspencer (Toni).

dverse

The Chant

areadingwriter57 Comments

My rubber shoes are soaked with rain. My hungry stomach is now in pain. I was drowned in the sea of noise made of my schoolmates’ giggles and words shared with their friends and parents as well as the sound of the car tires against the water-kissed road.

The sun’s about to be eaten by the night sky but I promised to my once present father that I won’t ever cry.

So with my head bowed down, I repeat the chant my mind’s uttering for almost four hours now: “Mommy said she will come for me. Mommy said she will…”

—
Word count: 100
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Jessica Haines
For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) January 31, 2017. 🙂 Congratulations for the 100th milestone, dear PJ!

Read more stories here:

 

 

A Writer’s Fear

areadingwriter108 Comments

For me writing is like breathing with words.
But honestly,
I am afraid of writing.

Afraid that no one will pay attention.
Afraid that no one will read the characters I hone.
Afraid that it will not be worthwhile.
Afraid that feedbacks will be as bitter as bile.
Afraid that efforts will just be put to waste.
Afraid that my words will be just lost in haze.

Because I know the literary world is already filled
with works of the greatest and the skilled.
Because there might be no space left in this field,
for me and the inks that I have spilled.

But then I saw the moon who never feared the coming sun,
even if its rise will end its own night’s fun.
And then there is summer who blissfully waits for fall,
even if it will snatch her beauty, her all.

Like lungs recognizing oxygen’s worth,
it’s time to exhale the fears of my agonized self,
and write (my book) for no one but myself,
because for me, writing is like breathing with words.

—

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to dVerse‘s Poetics: What are You Afraid Of by Mish of mishunderstood.

dverse

As our fears range from large scale and ominous to the simple worries of everyday life, they all have an effect on our decisions, our happiness and well being. One way to validate them is to write about them. So for today’s Poetics, I am asking you to open up and share your fear(s) with us in a poem.

Read Mish’s own poem about fear titled Departure. 🙂

Schiophobia

areadingwriter26 Comments

Faceless, dark, blank, a voiceless yet ceaseless follower, it’s always at my back. I can hear its mute footsteps, even it’s screaming silence. I want to get rid of him, or maybe it’s a her, or whatever it is. It is never my friend, nor my foe but it makes my body shiver, it makes my soul quiver.

I turned off all the lights as it won’t exist without something bright. I find peace in my light-less four corners. Blanketed by the dark, there is no one but my afraid self. I tried to call out, no answer came.

I got no one but the black-being that made me insane.

—

Word count: 110

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Sunday Photo Fiction

In response to Sunday Photo Fiction for April 03, 2016.

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly writing challenge hosted by Alastair Forbes where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction using around 200 words. The piece doesn’t have to center around exactly what the photo is, it can be just used as a basis for a story.

Enjoy more awesome stories here:

Drop, Up

areadingwriter44 Comments

30ddbd81

Just when I have
embraced–
accepted,
the
inevitable–
painful
drop,

YOU finally came,
and lift
me
up.

—

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Carmine De Fazio

In response to Daily Post: Drop.

Inspired by  Vijaya and Mandi. Thank you lovely ladies for the uplifting words. I direly need them today. You are two beautiful souls and I am more than blessed to call you my blogger-friends. ❤

Here is another reason why I am feeling better now.

As surely as the sun will rise
You’ll come to us
Certain as the dawn appears

Let Your glory fall as You respond to us
Spirit rain
Flood into our thirsty hearts again
You’ll come, You’ll come

~

 

 

FIRST BLOG POST: Agony

areadingwriter1 Comment

Blog-a-versary

Because A READING WRITER is now a one-year-old blog, here is my very first post.

A post full of fear yet full of hope. A post made possible by courage.

– rosemawrites

A Reading Writer

It has been eight years since I dreamed of having a blog. Something I can call my own. Honestly, I have fears of bashers and grammar Nazis. People who might critique my write-ups. People who might oppose my opinions. Yes, it took me those long years to have the courage to publish my thoughts, my views and my what-not’s. Now it will be all available for the viewing and reading netizens. I am now ready for either praises or rejections, for either wow! or boo!, for anything that this blogosphere has in store for A Reading Writer like me.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” – Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Now my agony has ended.

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