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.

02.20.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

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

P e d e s t r i a n ( A Tanka )

Is it to the right,
or is it to the near left?
Should I cross the bridge
or should I retreat before
the inevitable fall?

02.16.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to dVerse MTB — Brevity
dverse

I m p r i n t

catrin-welz-stein-german-surrealist-graphic-designer-tuttart-24

You carry

a bloodline
that has survived years
of hunger and hate,

a mutating gene
that has conquered
thousands of decaying dates,

the sturdy roots
of forefathers who had lived
for your beginning,

the dauntless bones
and bricks of humans
who valued breathing.

Survivor is long imprinted
in your veins.

You are born to break
limiting chains.

02.14.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Image by artist Catrin Welz-Stein.

In response to dVerse Inspired by Art!
dverse

 

Endings and Beginnings (2017 Edition)

Oh, what a rollercoaster you have been, 2017?

The leaves of this year’s calendar is all but gone. With Sara Bareilles “December” playing on my background, with the lyrics:

Distill a whole year down into a day
Act like we all start over with a pristine slate
But to get yourself a new life you’ve got to give the other one away
And I’m starting to believe in the power of a name
‘Cause it can’t be a mistake if I just call it change

let me try to write about this crazy year and what I hope for the next.

The text cursor keeps on blinking, my mind keeps on trying to find the beginning of this post. Where should I start?

So… January 2017 I turned 25 (which I kind of talked about in this poem). It is like 1/3-life-crisis as I remember asking myself, “What have you done? What have you finished? What have you created that you should be proud of?”

It’s a crazy state of asking questions no one can actually answer. So in the end of it all, I let it be. (I’ve been so good at letting things be this year. Not sure if that is good or bad though.)

After the milestone birthday, blog world has been silent while I pour all my energy on Instagram. The camaraderie of the poets there reminded me of how it was here on WordPress, when I was just getting acquainted with my poet-self. I remember being around the awesome group of poets who grew and learned with me. Until one by one they left.

Come May, I released my first poetry collection, Between My Bleeding Lines

BLEEDING LINES

It was exciting to see your words printed and published with a lovely cover by my dear Sarah Doughty. I have honestly no high hopes for this one, and true to “what you think will happen, happens”, it did not soar. Does it matter?

It will be a hypocrite answer to say, “No, book sales doesn’t matter.” Because it does. Who wouldn’t want to hit it big in the first try? Who wouldn’t want to be like Lang Leav and Rupi Kaur? Of course, I do. But I’ve got no expectations and maybe has so little faith. And it showed. It doesn’t make the journey of birthing a book a little less exciting and fulfilling, though. 🙂

Publishing is an uncharted sea I was able to try this year. While the reward isn’t as fruitful, the lessons I learned and the people that made the baby book possible are enough rewards for now. 🙂

In between the hullaballoo of the release and the consistent posting on Instagram, are work tasks which eventually lead me to another “first” of the year which happened last October! My first airplane ride, my first beach experience, and my first out-of-the-country travel trip! (Thailand! :D)

20171012_112933

And 2017 won’t let itself end without a bang as after I went to Thailand for a client’s event, a new job was waiting for me. I was accepted. Considering the family and not myself, I have to accept. Here we go. I have to dive into another uncharted sea.

In between these milestones, I have loved and I have lost. I have given a second chance, and right now, I think that battle is another war that I’ve lost. I want to believe that I’m a brave and not a coward soldier, who knows when to give up. ‘Cause I’m laying down my sword and my armour, it’s time to let people go.

Apologies for such a melancholic post, but believe me, I have a tired heart filled with hope. Like a badly wounded soldier, I’m dusting off my knees and cleaning my wounds.

I am ready for 2018 and the amazing ride it will bring. I am ready to swim the strange sea. I am ready to love and be loved again. I am ready to write and try and try again. I am not at my best position right now, but it doesn’t mean it won’t get better.

It is far better to start the year on bended knee, for that’s the best time to call to the mighty He. I know He will be with me.


HAPPY NEW YEAR, everybody!

getting there: a senryu for TLT

Dusting gun powders,
digging buried bomb shrapnels,
dark road of hate clears.

12.28.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Manu Sanchez via Unsplash

In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week 100!!! (Oh how I miss three-lining! 😀

maybe mismatch

Maybe it was the noise
of the honking fears inside me,
or maybe it was the clink and clanks
of the battling mind and heart inside you.

Maybe I was ready to be brave,
just in time when you surrendered to be afraid,
and these maybes were too loud
enough to create a strong storm out of

our mismatch love.

11.23.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Claire Nolan on Unsplash

 

back and forth

sometimes i am a
relentless, untiring,
wave ebbing and
flowing to the
shore, back and
forth, back and
forth.

but today i am
transforming and
evaporating from
the sea to the
sky, yes, i have
surrendered and
turned myself into
a possessive sun.

kindness and
attention are
now my rays that
i won’t let you kiss and
have anymore for
i am tired, tired, tired,

of going back
and forth, back
and forth, without
receiving what i
always give.

love.

07.20.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

Flower and the Bee (Part 2)

Processed with VSCO with a7 preset

sharing the second part of my duet with the bestie, Shubhodeep Roy. 🙂 i am the flower and he is the bee. the part 1 is here.

my bee, that kiss was sweeter than honey,
brimming with love, i’d choose it ceaselessly.
but after you let go, I saw the look in your eyes,
gazing at another pretty blue bathing in sunrise.

the wind remains warm, but I am freezing inside,
as you fly towards your next flower bride.
i have no choice but to let you go freely,
because I, however beautiful, will never be your only.

angry on me is my favorite flower,
she doesn’t know, how hungry i’m at this hour.
for survival, i might fly to another blue,
but for love, i will always come back to only you.

the queen bee was angry, for i brought only a little honey,
allow me to go to the flower brides, oh they are so many.
your nectar, though only a little, gives me life,
however you misunderstand me, you’ll be my only wife.

05.26.2017
©2017 Shubhodeep Roy | A Reading Writer.
All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Shubhodeep Roy

Shubhodeep Roy is a new addition to WordPress. 😉 And he tried dVerse Poetics Recently too. 🙂 Check him out here. ❤


In response to dVerse’s Open Link Night # 197!
dverse

Not Forgetful

Her eyes on the slow, old tram coming. Her hands inside the bag, checking the cold office keys, the leather notepad, the tattered coin purse, the thin phone, her essentials. Lucky day, no forgotten items today.

Her ride to the office is about to arrive when a familiar face crossed her peripheral view. He has aged, but his bright smiling eyes remained the same. The way he wraps his arms around his woman stayed the same.

Her finger, the throne of their once wedding ring, aches. Sometimes she wishes to be forgetful, but the essential memories are stubborn. They remain.

Word count: 100
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Yinglan

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) May 30, 2017. 🙂