I write because I read. I read because I write.
rope. there is no rope nor a glassplatformnor a hand orthin twig to hold me up.my feet dang-lingin this period of forced pause.static seconds delayeven the wingsof a soaring eagle.someone press the playbuttonplease. — 05.05.2022©2022 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo by Daniil Silantev on UnsplashThis work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. For dVerse: Quadrille… Continue reading mid-air: a quadrille
After some weeks of absence, I finally have the time to do another Top Ten Tuesday hosted by The Artsy Reader. Coincidentally, the theme for today is November 24: Thanksgiving/I’m Thankful for… Freebie. For the past few months, I have written about my forced aloneness (thank you, COVID) in a foreign land. You can read some… Continue reading 10 things i am thankful for
november opened with a door of hope, closing abruptly. now i am again in limbo, unsure of what will happen, what will be. i write this today for my future-self, a written reminder of the patience, faith, and resilience you have learned and gathered for the past few months.
Come in. I am sorry for the lack of energy, would you like some lukewarm tea? Well, we are tired zombies, avoiding (or wait- ing) for the wind of death, we are suffocated not by the unseen killer but the cruel knee on our throat for centuries, (we chose to close our eyes on) well,… Continue reading come in, June
virtuoso, oh no, i am no ace of (many) no's, i am not numb (yet) against spades of (vicious) no's, but I've my shield of self-belief, just enough to help me swallow (sharp) eyes menacing, (brute) words piercing, (twisted) life unveiling, on my own. 03.18.2019 ©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo by Cristina Gottardi on Unsplash… Continue reading v i r t u o s o
It's almost two in the morning, I am supposed to be sleeping, probably paddling through the river of dreams this night has to offer. My eyes are sleepy, my body at less than 5% of mortal battery, still I get up, still I write. The soul would never let this wee hours --- when the… Continue reading A Look Back to Move Forward
I the poet, is me the poem. With lilting rhymes marking the thumps of this, this, this, travelling heart. With floating rhythms concocting mem'ries– faded and unseen– by this, this, this, restless mind. With idioms and similes, hiding the evidences of familiar melancholy, and glee. With verses sweet oh, so, sweet, as honey or stinging… Continue reading spell poem with an I
As the battered wheels climb thousands more feet above the unending sea, my mummed heart undresses slowly. My nakedness embraces the soft mountain fabric made by murmurs of the wind and leaves of the giant green guardians of the endless Himalayas. I am home. — 02.13.2018 ©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via my dearest… Continue reading M o u n t a i n F a b r i c
Hello, everyone! I've been out and about for some good reasons. Work. Life. Birthday. and. Travel. Before my birthday month ended, I embarked into a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. A solo trip to India, my first out-of-the-country alone! And I would like to share with you my learnings and realizations via #IndianInsights series. I hope you'll enjoy… Continue reading #IndianInsights No. 1
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… Continue reading Endings and Beginnings (2017 Edition)
A Reading Writer 