paper dreams

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.
Advertisements

Shoe Shopping

tattered by sand and mud,
kissed by shrapnels and bombs,
we are always ready
to fight, to shot, to combat.

shined until twinkling as stars,
worn to exude power and class,
we are as high as timeless sky,
ready to slay a gal or guy.

made as comfy as a cloud,
displayed as chic, never proud,
we sneak and squeak in right amount,
as we dance, run, twist, and squat.

i am but bare, no thread, no leather,
just muscles and skin,
such fragile matters,
yet i am but your steps’ master
moving forward or back.
soldiers, executives, hippies,
humans, oh, i know their tracks.

whatever cover they clothed me,
expensive, bare, or just an old sack,
as long as they are chasing
their life’s purpose and meaning,
instead of becoming zombies sleepwalking,
that will be more than, oh, more than enough.

Inspired by this favorite quote of mine:
“So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they’re busy doing things they think are important. This is because they’re chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.” 
― Mitch AlbomTuesdays with Morrie

08.30.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Josh Calabrese on Unsplash

In response to Poetics: A Closet Full of Shoes by kim881.
The challenge is to write a poem, of any length or form, about footwear: stilettos, Wellington boots, hobnail boots, sandals, slippers, ballet shoes – it’s up to you, just as long as the poem is new.
dverse

foggy borders

splat!
goes the blood
and some threads
of bleeding muscles
from his back
to the waiting
concrete wall.

bang!
goes the bullet
as cold as the heart
who pulled the trigger
to put the 17-year-old
to his final, breathless
sleep.

no more!
goes some mouths
to condemn the
brutal purging
and killing
and planting of
fired-guns and drugs
to the hands
none can know if
innocent or not.

i now wonder
where is the
foggy border
between justice
and injustice,
instant law and
due process?

maybe the
monsoon shower
will soon wash away
the kiss of blood
on that cold wall,
maybe our minds
are also fogged
by the mist of
hazy judgments
as we silently ask:
“can these killings
save us all?”

Some thoughts after another brutal killing, part of the Philippine government’s war on drugs. Sigh. Sigh.
08.23.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Neven Krcmarek on Unsplash

In response to Poetics: Border by Grace
My prompt today is about border, that line separating two political or geographical areas, especially countries, or the outer part or edge. More than the physcial boundaries, there are borders which are invisible, such as an imaginary, social or mental borders. These kind of borders are more challening to overcome, don’t you agree?
dverse

soul’s song

i wanna go where the mountains
are high enough to echo my song

song of the soul ceaselessly
gearing up to be strong,
strong enough to not
always try to belong,
belong to the world filled
with hazy right and wrong,
wrong or right, i just want
to live as if life is not long,
long enough to think
my tomorrows are like birdsongs,
birdsongs– sweet yet fleeting, soothing yet fading,
like the echo of my soul’s song.

08.16.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

Picked India Arie’s India’s Song:
I wanna go where the mountains are high enough to echo my song
I wanna go where the rivers run deep enough to drown my shame
I wanna go where the stars shine bright enough to show me the way
I wanna go where the wind calls my name

In response to Poetics: Musical Muse by  Mish
Today for Poetics, I am asking you to choose some lyrics, preferably one line from a favorite song and grow your own poem from it.
dverse

autumn spell

20633242_332375027207219_2217080238662221824_n

in this maze of bleeding leaves
as if the mighty Him spilled red inks
on top of the lush trees and twigs
to signal the yearly seasons’ shift,

find me lurking not
beneath the tall towers of red and yellow,
find me hiding not
inside the house with the whispering cello,

find me sitting not
on the edge of the long, winding road,
find me breathing not
inside the rushing car, suddenly slowed.

one more inhale,
one more exhale,
soul elevates maybe
to heaven or to hell.

well, the view from the top
of this scarlet autumn spell
makes this final moment
a little easier.

08.14.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Shubhodeep Roy

homebound

i have wandered far
from Your loving bay,
i believed alone i
can pave my own way.

step one, two, then three
i walked away slowly
from Your presence like
a bird breaking free.

not knowing never have
You locked me inside
of Your words and light,
my God, bring me back.

08.02.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

what if?

as death is as normal as birth,
one day my ink will meet
its fading the end.
what if this poem is my last?
what if? what if?
what last lines would i want to leave?
what if? what if?
what final rhymes would i want to breathe?
what if? what if?

would i want to write
a heartfelt villanelle
to glorify the God
who made me well,
to thank the imperfect
yet loving parents
who compensated money with
their love and presence?

would i want to write
a throbbing aubade
to the he’s whom
i have loved?
fill every stanza
with bitter farewells
and warm kisses
they have forever missed out?

would i want to leave
a sweet, sweet sonnet
to the one man
who’ll have me last,
stamp every rhyme
and every line
with the promise of meeting again
inside heaven’s confines?

or would i want to leave
a freely flowing free verse,
about a life well lived
in better and in worse,
etch my last words
with gratefulness
and contentment,
for either way, i’m blessed.

what if this poem is my last?
i think i would be smiling if
this poem would be my parting gift
to those who have loved me
and i have loved unconditionally.

if this is the end for me and my poetry,
then i will park my pen,
beside my final lines and rhymes,
and then, rest peacefully.

08.02.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

sneaked in some time to post this poem after my looong hiatus. the lines:

what if this poem is my last?
what if? what if?
what last lines would i want to leave?
what if? what if?
what final rhymes would i want to breathe?
what if? what if?

are inspired by a poem by Davy D. i have a big event (at work) tomorrow and i dropped by to tell you all guys that I miss WordPress because of you all. as soon work calms a bit, i’ll go back. ❤ please don’t forget me. 🙂 Much love!


In response to The End paul scribbles.
This evening I want you to think about ‘THE END.’
dverse

back and forth

sometimes i am a
relentless, untiring,
wave ebbing and
flowing to the
shore, back and
forth, back and
forth.

but today i am
transforming and
evaporating from
the sea to the
sky, yes, i have
surrendered and
turned myself into
a possessive sun.

kindness and
attention are
now my rays that
i won’t let you kiss and
have anymore for
i am tired, tired, tired,

of going back
and forth, back
and forth, without
receiving what i
always give.

love.

07.20.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

Cloud of Pain

the thing about sadness is
it’s like a thick rain cloud
clogged inside your throat
blocking your breath,
your words,
even your screams.
you want to melt it,
get rid of it,
but it becomes bigger and bigger
choking you further and further.

but the thing about sadness is
when you finally surrender and bask
on its harsh downpour,
its painful drops
will help you grow,
will help you rise,
will help you heal, until
the suffocating cloud
finally bowed, finally bowed.

and the thing about sadness
being a dark rain cloud is it’s
living in a fading permanence.
it will pass.
it will fade.

but you, you are the sometimes defeated
yet always fighting sun.
you will rise again and again,
until no cloud of pain remains.
until no cloud of pain remains.

P.S. This is the poem I mentioned to you, Ameena. 🙂

05.06.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Poetics: Poems that could save your life by kim881.
The challenge is to write a poem to save someone’s life on one of the following themes:
apologies  –  bad hair day  –  bereavement  –  big decision  –  birthday blues  –  career crisis  –  commitment problems  –  divorce  –  does my bottom look big in this?  –  don’t let the bastards get you down  –  first date  –  first wrinkle  –  friendship  –  getting married  – hangover  –  illness  –  insomnia  –  is this relationship going anywhere?  –  is this the real thing?  –  Monday morning  –  money worries  –  moving house  –  parenthood  –  playing away  –  retail therapy  –  rock bottom  –  stressed out  – successfully single  –  when your lover has gone
dverse

 

Alarm

the noisy alarm dings,
like the starting bell of boxing,
another fight,
another day,
begins.

with the routine task
of waking,
eating,
commuting,
working,
eating,
working,
commuting,
eating,
sleeping,
repeat,
repeat,
repeat,

may I not lost
my value,
my worth,
my purpose,
my dreams,

under the haystack
of mundanes
in the world of
routines,

before my life’s
final alarm
rings.

I wanna go where the mountains are high enough to echo my song
I wanna go where the rivers run deep enough to drown my shame
I wanna go where the stars shine bright enough to show me the way
I wanna go where the wind calls my name

05.31.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash