I write because I read. I read because I write.
One year ago I dived into another job, left the comfort of the four corners of a white room filled with the smell of fresh news and sweet scent of deadline sweats. With closed fists and shut eyes, I took a leap away from comfort to embrace the unknown new. Now here we go again.… Continue reading calendar leaves
Elevated eyes can see the throngs of the wheeled machines this morning. Like row of soldiers, though not marching nor moving under the 9 a.m. sun burning. Feet need not to tiptoe to see the jeepneys, cars, and buses, wearing the colors of the vibrant Philippines, yet tainted with the grey blanket of Manila's dust… Continue reading m y c a r r i e r
No apologies, no regrets, not a single sorry, from the old mouth of the last man standing from the crew who ended the second world war. Japan started the conflict, that was how the US closed it— with two exploding periods. Periods that bent the knees of the Land of the Rising Sun. Periods that… Continue reading Fading Periods
Autumn window smiles as weightless leaves start falling. Yes, you can let go. — 03.23.2018 ©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via Unsplash In response to Blogging from A to Z Challenge and NaPoWriMo 2018. H is for Haiku. Haiku are: syllabic (17 syllables or less) an imagist poem (draws the emotion from the image). Concrete images are… Continue reading weightless (a haiku)
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… Continue reading W i n t e r G r e y
His touch holds the warmth of a dawning summer sun, a dozed heart wakes up. — 02.15.2018 ©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via Unsplash
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… Continue reading season singing
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… Continue reading Fading Photograph
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… Continue reading Fog of Fear
Feather freely floats ‘bove seas, below sky, ‘tween winds. Be like that feather. — ©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo credit: Unsplash In response to dVerse‘s Come Fly with Me—dVerse Poetics by Victoria C. Slotto who wrote her very own Feather Art. For today’s Poetics, I ask you to look at feathers. Perhaps you will write… Continue reading Free Feather
