The Chant

My rubber shoes are soaked with rain. My hungry stomach is now in pain. I was drowned in the sea of noise made of my schoolmates’ giggles and words shared with their friends and parents as well as the sound of the car tires against the water-kissed road.

The sun’s about to be eaten by the night sky but I promised to my once present father that I won’t ever cry.

So with my head bowed down, I repeat the chant my mind’s uttering for almost four hours now: “Mommy said she will come for me. Mommy said she will…”

Word count: 100
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Jessica Haines

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) January 31, 2017. 🙂 Congratulations for the 100th milestone, dear PJ!

Read more stories here:

 

 

A Mother’s Heart

8

I almost dropped the two full paper bags when I saw the familiar blue car parked in front of our home. So they are back after a month.

Seated in front of my husband, my daughter and her rugged boyfriend sat in full-of-fear silence. I walked in without looking at them. I might not be able to stop myself from hugging my stubborn child who loves to escape with the “love of her life”.

“I’m pregnant,” her shaky voice revealed before she finally broke into tears.

“We’re not surprised,” I said as I gripped my husband’s shoulder.

I looked at my fragile 16-year old girl with an aching mother’s heart. What have I done wrong? I’m afraid I’ll never know.

Word count: 120
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit:Yinglan 🙂

In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) October 25, 2016.

Rules:

  • 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:

First Fly

2

“That’s your daddy, little man!”

My mom-heart swells when the eyes of my four-year old sparked in delight as he watched his father fly the red helicopter for the first time. From playing toy planes, now my beloved husband is flying his real one.

“Let’s go, Momma! Come on!!!” he giddily say as he pulled me towards our condo’s door where we gaze at the lovely, exciting scene.

“Not yet love, it’s not safe—.”

A loud ear-shattering blast. We looked up.

My son’s delighted eyes turned to widely horrified.

“Moooooom!!”

“No. No. It’s not your daddy. It cannot. I cannot be.”

Word count: 100

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

Photo credit: Iain Kelly


In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) August 30, 2016.

Rules:

  • 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:

Word-High July: Kinaadman

25

Kinaadman

Her knowledge
isn’t from
four corners
of a school room.

Her wise words
are from her mistakes,
she hopes will be
her child’s boon.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: BuzzFeed, Unsplash


In response to Word-High July: 30 Beautiful Filipino Words: Day 25 – Kinaadman.

Banner 1

A Mother’s Wish

In this light-less blood-filled room,
my screaming thoughts escape my head,
my stubborn heart’s beating, I wish I was dead.

I wish to smell your innocent scent.
Experts say newborn’s fragrance is like drugs.
I wish to be high on you, even once.

I wish to feel the softness of your skin.
They say your illuminating cover is like silk.
Oh, how soft will your lips be when you taste my milk?

I wish I heard you cry.
They say your wail could tear my ears in two.
I don’t care. I just wish I heard even a coo.

All these wishes could have been true.
If only I was brave enough to carry you.

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

Photo credit: Unsplash


In response to dVerseMeeting the Bar; the Elegy.

dverse

Today I’m presenting how to write an elegy. The word is derived from the Greek word elegus which means “song of bereavement.”  An elegy is a poem written to lament the loss of someone or something special to you.  It is a poem of mourning that expresses three stages of grief:  sorrow, admiration and acceptance.  Elegies can be written for a personal loss, a public figure or a particular event.

Special Child

Special Child

I am used to kids with autism being called ‘special’ until I have given birth to one. Since then, I hated that term.

I gradually figured out they call kids with autism special to sugarcoat the word abnormal. My son isn’t normal. I’m fine with that. No sugarcoat needed.

He can only say one word, not papa neither mama. Just ‘nanasor’ which means dinosaur. He was lost in his own Jurassic Park. As he aged that doesn’t changed. I thought his speech-inability is the worst part of his autism, but I was wrong.

One hot afternoon, an old lady was hit by a truck. No one was able to see the fast-paced accident, only my five-year old son with autism.

He shouted ‘nanasors’ until I figured out his one-word message.

That moment I knew, he is indeed a special child.

Word count: 140

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

Photo credit: Yinglan of This is Another Story


In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) May 17, 2016.

Rules:

  • 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 the cute yet tough prompt, Priceless Joy! ❤ 

Read more short stories here:

Dying, Darling

mono

Dying, Darling: A Monorhyme*

As I lay dying
I’ll be rememb’ring…

Your tired hands so caring,
sharp words yet encouraging,
big round eyes yet endearing,
non-singer voice yet calming.

Most of all as I lay dying,
my soul will be smiling,
with the faith it is carrying,
the best heirloom from you, mother darling.

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

Photo credit: Unsplash


This is written for my dearest Nanay, who celebrates her 45th birthday today. ❤

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

Today’s prompt is As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner.

As I Lay Dying

A *Monorhyme is a poem in which all the lines have the same end rhyme.

 

Mother’s Choices: Two Kimo*

mother

Mother’s Choices: Two Kimo*
(A poem for the strongest woman I call Nanay)

She gave birth to a baby she called Rose.
Loving beyond borders, walls.
She somehow made the right choice.

Miles from home she ran with the man she loves.
Her beating heart overruled.
Her innocence captured.

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

Photo credit: Unsplash


In response to Napowrimo Day 28. (yes, I’m catching up! :D)

 

And now, for our prompt (optional, as always). Today I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that tells a story. But here’s the twist – the story should be told backwards. The first line should say what happened last, and work its way through the past until you get to the beginning. Now, the story doesn’t have to be complicated (it’s probably better if it isn’t)!

*Kimo

The Kimo is an Israeli version of the haiku, found at Poetry Kaleidoscope. There should be no movement in the imagery.

The Kimo is:

  • a tristich, a 3 line poem.
  • syllabic 10-7-6 syllables per line.
  • unrhymed.

Read more of my Napowrimo 2016 poems here!

Counting Birds

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Counting Birds

It’s that time of the year again. Flock of little birds swing in electric ropes. Their sweet chirps signal morning’s hope. My eyes are wet again, whenever I see them. How time flies.

My little girl, my first angel, learned numbers when she was barely two by counting those little singers. One… two… become sixteen… to twenty-two.

Gripping my soft blanket, I resist the urge to cry out loud, my husband and my newborn might wake up.

I can’t add up those pigeons any more. My always little girl can count them because she has the best view from heaven.

Word count: 100 words

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

Photo credit: Roger Bultot


In response to Friday Fictioneers prompt for 06 May 2016.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly writing challenge hosted by the generous Fairy Blog-Mother Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction.

Read more great 100-word short stories here:

Giggling Innocence: A San San*

photo-1434425937023-dd37d1512d9d

Giggling Innocence: A San San*

Your sweet giggling innocence
screams, awakes asleep mem’ry.
Mind’s screaming silence now ends
as I hear soothing cadence,
your voice soothes chained spirit free.
Screaming silence now giggles,
your giggling innocence sends
soothing cadence that tickles.

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

Photo credit: Danielle MacInnes


In response to Daily Post: Giggle and Napowrimo Day 14.

 

Today’s prompt comes to us from TJ Kearney, who invites us to try a eight-line poem called a san san, which means “three three” in Chinese (It’s also a term of art in the game Go).

*San San

The san san has some things in common with the tritina, including repetition and rhyme. In particular, the san san repeats, three times, each of three terms or images. The eight lines rhyme in the pattern a-b-c-a-b-d-c-d.

I repeat giggle, soothe and scream. 🙂

Read more of my Napowrimo 2016 poems here!