my sun

My love affair with words and rhymes started when I was a kid. I used to win slogan making contests, I used to sing songs with rhyming lyrics. Then I came across William Wordsworth’s “Daffodils”— the first seed of poetry planted inside me. Though my writing heart like Wordsworth’s cloud, wandered far and long. Aside from love notes in rhyming stanzas, I don’t really know much about poems. Then in 2015, I stumbled upon WordPress Poetry 101. With skilled and experienced poets I felt like a child on her first day in kindergarten. Clueless. Intimidated. Yet, deep inside determined.

After a few tries with rhymes and forms, the first haiku, the first sonnet, the first tanka, and then more free verses, I found the rhythm of my pen. Slowly, I befriended the beating ink flowing inside me, ever since. I found my soul’s oxygen. I started breathing again.

Here comes summer rays,
parting the veil of winter.
Poetry, my sun.

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

In response to dVerse Haibun Monday: Who? What? Why?

W i n t e r G r e y

Dressed in winter grey, the fading evening slowly makes way for the still sleepy, Himalayan sun. Rising to kiss the sneaking peaks of Mt. Kanchenjunga and Mt. Kabru, the first morning rays gently open my eyelids to show the gem beside me.

He wears a thick jacket, buried under our comforting, shared blanket. His arms wrapped on mine. His heartbeat with his rhythmic breaths create my early love song. My heart, listens, sighs, smiles.

Two frozen peaks wait
outside the grey-painted room,
he wears summer’s warmth.

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

In response to dVerse The beauty and the misery of grey – Haibun Monday

season singing

traversing the same route five times a week presents me a repeating view again and again and yes, again. the sight of houses, from well-made to thatched huts, occasionally interrupted by massive spaces filled with wild grasses or field of rice stalks, and once with a huge mall. the neighborhood will then be replaced with the passing silhouettes of trees lined prim and proper along the edge of the paved, wide highways. then the homes and factories and taller buildings will wave hello as if to signal the end of the highway and the beginning of the honk-filed and jam-packed city road.

with every single day passing, only the heat of the sun and the cold raindrop dripping are the signals of the Philippines’ two seasons’ ending — wet and dry. (and most of the time, like now, they seem to be fond of overlapping. like summer for the day and thunder and lightning for the evening.) as much as i wish to witness the season’s undressing from winter, spring, summer, and fall, i am only blessed by the summer sun and the sometimes gentle sometimes harsh monsoon showers. 

yet still blessed, yes, for i am among the billions of soul experiencing the warmth of morning sun and the darkness of the velvet evening. to live and to be living, itself is a blessing.

the summer sun and
the monsoon rain take their turns.
my grateful heart sings.

©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Devil_Jameson RAGE on Unsplash

In response to Haibun Monday: Komorebi by Toni of kanzensakura.
I would like you all to write a haibun about how you are affected by season changes, if you do any special activities, what you have done in the past or have planned for the future season between seasons


Fading Photograph

i stumbled upon my five-year-old smile pasted on a fading photograph. it was just me and my sister. she was crying. i was clapping. (mean me?). my small mouth was wide open, wide enough to show the three blank, toothless-gaps. while my sister, a year younger, was red in her wailing feat.

looking at the once child me, i wonder when did my innocence fade? where did my child-like, pure bliss go? who snatched my genuine smile? is it the cruel world? or is it my own bitter words? but then the present mirror shows i may be tired, i may be sometimes sad, but i am braver. i am kinder. i am stronger. i am broken but better.

storm-battered sappling
turns into a dauntless tree.
breaking’s bravery.

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

In response to Haibun Monday #38, Kintsugi: The Art of Broken Pieces by Grace.
Our challenge is to write about finding beauty in the broken pieces or imperfection and/or the process of mending the broken pieces. You can write about a “broken” object, cityscape or landscape, or personal experience of mending and embracing imperfections. Please write 1 to 2 tight paragraphs of “prose”, followed by a nature-themed “haiku”.
Being that this is Haibun Monday, please write a haibun based on the prompt, ending with a seasonal haiku.   Don’t forget to visit and comment on others poetry, especially to those who have visited you.

Fog of Fear

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
©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).


Beam Bath

Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, and Before Midnight were not able to satiate the need to relax my heart and my mind. Instead, they made me think more about the intangible concept we try hard to grasp and understand. Yes. Love.

Around 8 at night, I stepped out and let my skin be bathed by moon’s beam and stars’ light. The chilled air welcomed me with a band of singing night-shift crickets and swaying leaves and twigs. Looking up, I let out a much-needed sigh and let the knocking tears fall. Inside my soul whispers, “you will be fine”.

Celestial forest
hangs and undresses daily.
You’re never alone.

Notes: Before Sunrise, Before Sunset and Before Midnight is a movie series about love. 🙂 I watched it last Sunday and yes, this entire haibun happened last Sunday. Past week was tough, mentally, physically and emotionally.
It is really comforting to be one with nature when life has kicked you bad. 🙂 I am so glad to be back, loves. ❤

©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to dVerse‘s Haibun Monday – Taking a Forest Bath – Say What???? from De of kanzensakura.
Today, I would like you all to write a haibun (one – three tight paragraphs) ending with a haiku (seasonal and cutting words used to denote the season and to distinguish between the two parts of a haiku).  I would like you all to write about the last time you totally immersed yourself in nature. 


City’s Chaos

My ears hate the scandalous honking cars and buses. My eyes are hurt by the sight of children sleeping beside roads and under bridges. My nose are irate with the stinky smell of cigarette and engine smoke. My tongue can taste the bitterness this city’s chaos spoke. Yet my skin can feel the powerful tingle of my dream-burning bones.

Hellish oh surely,
for dreamers it’s heavenly.
Work hard, play harder.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to dVerse‘s Haibun Monday #23 – contemporary cityscape by Björn Rudberg (brudberg) who wrote Cityscape Anatomy.


Seasons’ Winds

Almost four months from now, I’ll be turning 25. It recently dawned on me, oh, what have I done with my life? I’ve studied hard and earned honors, but my ultimate dream still feels too far. I’m working hard but monetary state remains harsh.Yet looking back, I know my family and I are already far from where we’ve been. I believe the coming years hold a promising future that’s still unseen.

There’s a valiant tree
undressing with seasons’ winds.
Change doesn’t mean death.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to dVerse‘s Haibun Monday:Winds of Change by Toni of kanzensakura who also wrote about change here!

Thank you for the lovely haibun prompts, Toni! I maybe a newbie in dVerse but I really admire your warmth as a person and your talent as a poetess. I wish you a lovely hiatus.


Please write for me a one paragraph haibun about change. End it with a nature-based haiku.

Twinkling Sky

The black blanket adorned with little twinkling lights stared silently as my gazing eyes let the pregnant, salty tears fall. My feet, soaked against cold knee-high flood caused by the constant battle between the moon and the earth, are both wrinkled and chilled.

Yet deep inside, my weary soul is wrapped with warmth— warmth after basking in the sea of hopelessness, warmth in a freshly found faith brought by those small stars which twinkles in sync with the beat of my tired heart.

If the mighty He made my tear-stained eyes see the stars’ sparkling beauty, He might also hear the fervent prayers of a little dot on earth called me.

Humans are under
the same changing, twinkling sky.
I am never alone.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to dVerse‘s Haibun Monday – Twinkle Twinkle by Toni of kanzensakura who also wrote about Night Sky!


Whether it is a childhood memory or a recent event, I would like for you all to write a one paragraph haibun ending it with a nature based haiku (remember, haiku are always about nature and haibun are always non-fiction).  Give us your heart, your humor, your expertise about the night sky….Whatever happened to you under a night sky from sunset to sunrise.

Summer Choir

I still remember: the gentle rush of the calm yet humming cerulean ocean as it hugs the waiting sun-bathed sand and silent shells ashore; the sweet whisper of the whistling wind as it combs the golden grass strands who always beg for more; and then the loud yet soothing klee-ew sounds of the winged gulls flying freely above the expansive salted-water-made floor.

Our beating hearts sung
softly with that summer choir.
Do you remember?

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

Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to dVerse‘s Tuesday Poetics: The Sound of LOVE by Walter J. Wojtanik. Read his Whispers of Love, too.


Also for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie‘s Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille August 17th 2016 … a summer tale.