Confessions, ramblings, and everything in between

Over an hour. That is how long I have been staring at my screen flashing an unfinished article I should finish before the day ends.

Eight tabs. That’s how many articles and resources I have read to be able to start writing and get my mind do what it’s supposed to do.

Numerous words written and deleted. That’s how I have been trying (badly) to write and write and write.

But nothing. My mind is not at it.

Like a boat freely sailing, wandering, on the vastness of the endless sea, my mind seems to be here but nowhere, here but elsewhere. It would be ungrateful to say I feel like a criminal jailed to be stuck in my office chair but that’s how I have been feeling lately.

It took me years to land a job related to my course, Journalism. I have been here for almost three years now and yes, it is fulfilling, tiring, but exciting. But there are days when you want to be as free as a bird. To be a writer tucked under her blanket just reading and writing.

It might be because of age but lately, I have been yearning for a simpler life. A life in a quaint house, by the sea and near the forest where I can wander and wonder. A life without a rushed phase. A life not limited by deadlines. A life not commanded by corporate bosses.

But that kind of life, as simple as it may sound, is too expensive. Expensive because you need money while living a life away from the city and the 9-to-5 job. Because I have responsibilities, and I have a life that isn’t only about me.

It’s been almost two months since I released my debut book, and I am quietly wishing and praying for its success because I dream to be like Lang Leav. Living in New Zealand, writing. But the road to becoming like her seems foggy and bumpy. Am I losing faith? Maybe.

I may not be hungry to make millions for my book, but I am dreaming of living a life as a writer. A creative one. Not someone locked inside a corporate box. But then as the eldest daughter, I got to move. I got to earn. For the family.

How can I pursue my passion and provide for the family? That I have yet to find out. And yes, I am trying to knock doors and windows to turn my dreams into reality.

Like what Ms. Maya Angelou told me again last week, “All great achievements require time.” I need patience and endurance. But most of all faith.

Faith that my time will come. Faith that my book’s time will come. Faith that everything happens for a reason. Faith that no time is wasted. Faith in things I cannot see as of the moment. Faith that He is moving and guiding me.

Easier said than done, I’m trying. Every single day.

For now, let me get back and write the article I need to finish today.

 

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
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

Building Values

Hand me
the hammer of hope
let’s pound
the nail of fear
to create
this concrete connection
and make welcoming
walls of visions.

Come, let’s mix
sand of honesty
with rocks of faith,
and paint our ceilings
with dauntless colors
against
termites of hate.

For our wall’s holes,
let’s place transparent
windows of courtesy
and our entrance be
the always-open
door of unity.

Atop let’s use the
roof of compassion
and love be our
building’s foundation.

Wouldn’t this be an ideal nation?

P.S. Sorry if this piece is a bit longer than I usually do. 🙂
03.09.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to dVerse‘s Poetics: DIY Building from purplepeninportland.
Your challenge for today is to imagine that you have been given free rein to design any type of building you wish. What would your building look like? shape? materials? size?

dverse

Sunday Songs: Stars in the Sky

The clouds will rain
The seasons change
(Cause You told them to)
The sun will shine
Your burning light
(Cause You told it to)
When You speak your words through my soul
So I know it’s true
You’re in control
In control
In control

The stars in the sky will hang there
’til You tell them to
The faith in my heart will still sing
Of what Your love can do
And even when life weighs heavy on me
I know You’re in control
And You’re all I need
The stars in the sky will hang there
’til You tell them to


Last week was a major life-turning week for me. I was badly sick, physically, emotionally. It is a turmoil. A catastrophic week.

But as I regain my health, now comes the agony, the fear. If the decision I made was right. I was brave when I said the final goodbye, but now I am afraid of the pain that will come with the coming days.

But then, He is in control. He holds the stars. He controls the moon and the sun. He is enough to comfort my weary heart. He is enough. ❤

Have a blessed week, everyone!
This is my second Sunday Songs with my dearest sister Stella.❤ Join us?🙂
Video courtesy of Youtube.🙂

Sunday Songs: Beautiful Things

All this pain
I wonder if I’ll ever find my way
I wonder if my life could really change at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found
Could a garden come up from this ground at all

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

There are days when I feel like a filth. Filth of sin. Filth of envy. Filth of hate. But then, He made me wonderfully. Most of all, despite my filth, He embraces me willingly, lovingly. Is there more than I can ask for? None, anymore. ❤

Have a blessed Sunday, everyone!
This is my second Sunday Songs with my dearest sister Stella.❤ Join us?🙂
         Video courtesy of Youtube.🙂

To the Holder of my life’s map

I know You since I’m three or two.
You know life’s hell that I’ve been through.
Up, down, and up again
Rollercoaster life feels like I’m in vain.

Surrender, that’s what I did,
as I sink in the sea of grief.
My dream is dead, I said to self,
as I smell my failure’s stench.

I let go, and let You lead,
as my hope slowly fall asleep.
At my lowest, You came finally.
I touched the sky, on bended knee.

10.09.2015
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: ilovehdwallpapers
Inspired by: Touch the Sky by Hillsong
Originally written for Blogging University’s WRITING 201: Day 05 Assignment.

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.

dverse

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

First Prayer

A chain smoker. A decade-long drug addict. An abusive and unfaithful husband. An irresponsible father.

Yes. That’s me.

It is surely surprising for you to see me here. Seating in the middle of your holy house.

Honestly, I never planned to go to you. I have never went to you, in fact. Maybe the first and the last time that I stepped into your sacred home was when I was christened. And then just a day after that you killed my mom. Then my abusive and irresponsible dad, well, like father like son, left me too.

That’s how unfair you have been to me!

I learned to steal food to survive, even when I’m just three. I have evolved to a full-blown criminal with gangs as the family that you never let me have. I never get married, I have loved one woman only, but that doesn’t mean I was a good partner.

You cannot blame me, though. Because you’ve been unfair to me. Until now… you’re unfair to me.

So why the hell am I here?

For her, the only person that loved me despite my dark side.

For the first time and for the last time, I am begging you to please let her live.

I will not blame you, though I really badly want to curse you because you’ve been unfair to me! But for the sake of my five-year-old granddaughter, I am down on bended knees, please let her live.

She is the reason why my daughter let me live with them. She is the reason why her mom accepted me. It’s because of her, why I am now with my family after so many years.

She’s the only person who talks to me. She’s the only kid who considers me as a family. Her smiles are like sun rays. Her laughter are like chimes from heaven. She is my joy, she is my light.

And… she’s so young.

You can take me because my life has been wasted ever since. So come on! Take me!

But please… oh Lord… let my granddaughter live.

11.20.2015
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash
Originally written for Blogging University’s WRITING 101 Day 15 Assignment.

The Coming Out

Come out courage,
fuel nervous mind.
Come out hope,
help tired soul stand.

Come out joy,
pick body out of bed.
Come out faith,
paint dull world red.

Come out love,
slice heart open and bare.
Come out muse,
spill words mouth can’t say.

 

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

In response to dVerse‘s Opening to the Muse–dVerse Quadrille #16 by Ms. Victoria C. Slotto who also wrote her own piece here.

dverse

This morning, I spent some time reflecting on how important it is to be open to whatever comes our way. We have our goals, our bucket lists—hopefully. But life doesn’t always cooperate, loves to tease us with a curve ball now and again. From that little reflection, the word OPEN has been playing in my mind and so I’m choosing it for this week’s Quadrille.