winged dreams (a lanterne)

Let
hope be
the wings of
your uncharted
dreams.

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.
L is for Lanterne.
Lanterne are:
  1. a pentastich, a poem in 5 lines.
  2. syllabic, 1-2-3-4-1 syllables per line.
  3. is composed with no punctuation and no rhyme, each end-word should be strong.
  4. centered on the page. Since this is a concrete or shape poem, the length of the word on the page factors into the equation, syllable count is not enough to determine the selection.
  5. title optional.

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kiss of faith (a fib)

Come
out
of your
self-made cave,
new morn’s warm kiss waits
to end your night sky’s loss of faith.

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.
F is for Fib.
The Fib is the brain child of American screenwriter, Gregory Pincus found in his blog at GottaBook in 2006 . The Fib is his solution for the need to write Haiku with a few more syllables. Based on the Fibonacci concept of the sequential numbers 0-1-1-2-3-5-8, It is a hexastich with progressive syllable count and has become very popular on the internet. The elements of the Fib are:
  1. a hexastich, a poem in 6 lines
  2. syllabic, syllables 1-1-2-3-5-8

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tick tock (a butterfly cinquain)

It takes
many tick tocks
before your wings open,
to taste its first lick of earth’s wind
before
your lightweight feathers kiss earth’s breeze
While the clock is singing
learn patience in
waiting.

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.
B is for Butterfly Cinquain.
Butterfly Cinquain isn’t a cinquain at all:it is a nonostich (9 lines)and uses the syllable count of the Crapsey Cinquain and then reverses it, therefore the misnomer.  The elements of the Butterfly Cinquain are:
  1. 9 line poem.
  2. syllabic, 2-4-6-8-2-8-6-4-2 syllables per line.
  3. unrhymed.

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hatch

egg out of
your hard-outside,
fragile-inside,
self-made
shell of hate,

hardened by
society’s caging
cruel words
of unbelief.
crack the

calcium carbonate
crystal, with
each drumming of
your tired yet

unrelenting heart,
create a freeing hole
of hope. welcome
the sunrays of faith.

hatch.

03.27.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to dVerse Quadrille #53 – Egg

T o M y D e m o n s

As I grew older I learned
to stop hating you,
and start loving you.

For your ruthlessness
is the lamp showing me
to keep my heart kind.

For your darkness
is the night teaching me to find
my own light,

no matter how hard.

02.28.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

O v e r f l o w

In Psychology they say,
the glass will be half empty
or half full based on
how you see it,

on my way home
late last night,
I paused a minute
to look up
to the hundreds
of the stars I can see,
and the thousands more
I cannot see.

For some reasons
they reminded me
of the many things that stains
my heart with melancholy,
and the much more things
unknown to me
that should paint me happy.

So I choose
to start my journey
to discovering
each unchartered joys
life has hidden for me.

I’m sure the glass
will not only be full,
it
will
overflow.

02.25.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Yeshi Kangrang on Unsplash

Happy Monday, everybody! 🙂

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.🙂