postal code stamps

Our tongues are dancing muscles
sprinkled with the magic dust of languages,

as if before birth we’re treated
on a buffet of diverse dialects and accents

where we select how our mouths will circle and arch
to utter each twisted word’s lyrical march, but

pause and place your vein-hand
in the middle of your breasts, there,

there is a polyglot organ,
tapping ceaseless da-dum, da-dum,

tasting the kindness in a stranger’s smile,
touching the tendrils of love’s blurry profile.

There is where we learn,

our tongues may be the dancing muscles
sprinkled with the magic dust of languages,

but our hearts are our postal code stamps
proving this big, big world is our residence.

©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo not mine

For dVerse Open Link Night #241

One Heart at a Time

can an empty plate be a gift
to the young mouths
and empty stomachs
waiting for elusive food?

can a broken doll’s remaining head
pacify an orphan
after a destructive bomb
snatched her parents?

can an old, tattered blanket
warm up a homeless
sleeping naked
under the frozen rain?

can my hands and yours,
can my smile and yours,
be the calm,
be the balm,
of the wounds inflicted
by hate,
by war,
by injustices,
created by our co-humans?

one heart at a time.

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

In response to Wrap it in Ribbons Please! by lillian.
So today’s prompt: write a poem that includes the word “gift”….or is a reminiscence about a gift you received or gave to someone. Gift us with your words!

Clothed in Space and Grace

2 Corinthians 12:9 by jaime

I am just reading an empowering post about Space and Grace when its lovely author Bikurgirl asked me to share my thoughts… then I read my dear friend Mel is also asking for space and grace’s meaning. 

Coincidentally, The Script’s It’s Not Right For You started playing on my ears and the lyrics that tugged my heart goes like this:

“It’s hard enough trying to live your life. But not following your dreams made you dead inside.”

So voila.. I am now writing about my own Space and Grace… and that should begin with multiple of confessions.

  1. I am a perfectionist,  purist (as darling Dajena and I discussed:)). I am hard on myself. I want to do things right, always right. I blame myself for my mistakes that can be traced back so many years ago.  Thus, I worry about failing. I can’t forgive other’s mistake, much more mine.
  2. I have OCD tendencies, in all aspect of my life. I plan my blog posts. I plan my work-tasks. I plan my mid-month budget. I plan everything that I can plan ahead of time.
  3. I am sensitive to what people think. Hence, A Reading Writer is a SECRET  to the people who knows me in real life. Hence, my blog is NOT linked to my Facebook account, which is mostly where the ‘physical’ me resides. I am too afraid to know what my physical friends think of my poems and fictions. Too afraid of all the negative things that may happen when I open my blog to the people who know the real me.
  4. I am hurt when people who I read and comment doesn’t do the same with me. I know people are busy, real-life is happening but there are just some bloggers who I tried to visit for a few times to test if we can be friends or somehow a mutual-reader but they are not kind enough to even take a look on what I have to offer. The worst part is that I see their comments around, so they have time to comment, but NOT on me. That hurts me personally.
  5. I have my demons. Sometimes I can silent them, sometimes I cannot. Most of the time, the loudest is named ENVY. 
  6. I put myself last, in everything. My family’s my first priority. I gave them all until the only thing that left’s in me are crumbs that I can barely it. And I realized that somehow it made me tired.

I am now naked in front you so it’s time to clothe myself with space and grace.

Space and grace
oh, I’m in dazed.
Can you clothed
my naked mind’s maze?

Yes, oh yes
you answered.
I am a choice
you can still make.

Here’s your dress
named freedom.
The freedom
to embrace the real you.
The freedom
to choose what’s right and true.

Here’s your shoes
named courage.
The courage to accept
you’re far from perfect.
The courage to bleed
when you’re smashed and wrecked.

Here’s your crown
named grace.
The grace to pick
your broken shards.
The grace to not just breathe
but live your life.

Space and grace
oh, I’m amazed.
Please remain within
my mind’s clothed maze.

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

Photo credit: Indulgy




The Fallen

No one wanted to go down, so I volunteered. I’ve been here for three days only but I now know why my friends begged me to think twice. I have helped random people thrice. I never got a “thank you” even once.

I helped an old man cross the street, he stared at my face and gave a mischievous grin before he left. I helped a mother pick her baby’s fallen rattle. She hurriedly grabbed it and whispered with disgust, “snatcher”. My last try was with a teenage boy whose lifting a humongous box. He just laughed and let me lift it on my own.

With three failed tries, I am now stoned. Broken and armless. Yet my heart’s in full bliss. I’ve fallen from heaven to earth to show humans little kindness. Three have showed ungratefulness.

But they are just a small percent of these beings I still love and believed in, and I’m not giving up on them.

Word count: 160

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

Photo credit: Phylor

NOTE: My mind’s churning something gruesome and dark when I saw this photo but I’ve posted a lot of sad pieces recently so… I showed this photo to my Dearest and asked what could be written out of an armless statue. So.. voila! 😀

In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) June 07, 2016.


  • a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less)
  • each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end
  • no serial (continuation) stories
  • include a pingback to the challenge post

Thank you for hosting this awesome prompt, Priceless Joy! ❤ 

Read more short stories here:

My Light (A Poem and An Important Note)

My Light: A Bergerette*

it takes leap of faith,
and some creeping wraith,
to write.
It takes great valor,
and candid candor,
to fight
writer’s agony
so let your words, be
my light.

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

Photo credit: Unsplash

NOTE: My WP friends, please let us all be kind enough to comment back to those who appreciate our work.

I would attest that the awesome people who have been consistently showing love for my pieces boost my confidence. But most of all, they inspire me to write better.

Because of them, I want to be one’s inspiration too. I want to be an encourager, especially for writers who I personally admire.

If your blog is a leap of faith, so as theirs. If you work diligently for your posts, so as them. If your words are special, so as theirs. 

Life and work happen, but be sure to take some time to show gratefulness to people who showed you that your words matter, because their time is precious too.

May our words be the light that brightens our little blogging community. ❤

In response to May Book Prompts –  by Sarah Doughty and MahWrites.

Today’s prompt is Brave New World by Aldous Huxley.

Brave New World

The Virelai, is a narrative, an expanded Lai and a member of the Lai family of forms. A poem of a single Virelai stanza is known as a Bergerette*.

The Virelai is:

  • stanzaic, any number of nonets (9 line stanzas) may be written at the discretion of the poet. One nonet is called a Bergerette or a Lai when made up of 3 tercets.
  • syllabic, syllables per line 5-5-2-5-5-2-5-5-2.
  • rhymed, it carries a running rhyme from stanza to stanza. aabaabaab bbcbbcbbc ddcddcddc etc until the end, in which the long line rhyme of the first stanza is repeated as the short line rhyme of the last stanza, ffaffaffa.