plot twist: a 100-word story

"For how can I be sure I shall see again the world on the first of May." My window was a painted sunset, in floating strokes of purple, orange, and raspberry's blood. I played a song about roses and taste of hope, my hips swaying free of audience, but mindful of the noodles not to… Continue reading plot twist: a 100-word story

prayer for roses

Dearestthe Philippines,I have a confession:in as much as my thumb aches toshade thename of the presidentmy bones believe for, mypassport is held in a foreign countrymy wingsclipped, face first, ona faraway soil. My tongue, bitten by the bile taste ofregret.I am alone here, curledin anticipation,choked in worry, even honeytastes bland.My nightsare prayers inthe dark. May… Continue reading prayer for roses

sparrow songs: a haibun

When I was a child, our rusted roof is usually dotted with sparrows looking for leftover rice. Hop. Hop. Hopping every morning. Singing to the tune of my mother's waking up pots. We are pardoned from the persimmon leaves of fall. The spooky skeletons of winter. However, our pockets are filled with flood that knocks,… Continue reading sparrow songs: a haibun

blanket and shame (a dizain*)

Still wrapped in blanket of soft innocence, like a butterfly fresh from its cocoon, a young breath given too short existence by evil desire of a maniac goon. A lifeless, cold shell wimps a wordless croon. An animal act, perhaps it is not, for mammals, reptiles, these kingdoms just ought to kill to survive. But… Continue reading blanket and shame (a dizain*)

patawad, Pilipinas (forgive me, Philippines)

Patawad, Pilipinas Hindi ako makakaboto bukas. Ang mga paa ko’y nakaapak sa isang malayong landas. Kumakayod para sa pamilyang hugutan ng lakas. Subalit, Pilipinas, dinig ko ang iyong hikbi. Umiiyak din ang aking puso, na para bang ako’y sawi sa nakikitang mga pangalang sa malamang ay magwawagi. Oo, Pilipinas, mahina ako sa Filipino. Sa simpleng… Continue reading patawad, Pilipinas (forgive me, Philippines)

m y c a r r i e r

Elevated eyes can see the throngs of the wheeled machines this morning. Like row of soldiers, though not marching nor moving under the 9 a.m. sun burning. Feet need not to tiptoe to see the jeepneys, cars, and buses, wearing the colors of the vibrant Philippines, yet tainted with the grey blanket of Manila's dust… Continue reading m y c a r r i e r

Damp Box

The box made of thin tree-meat walls, closed by a curtain door, sealed with hole-filled, rusted roof, again sinks under the merciless river overflow, yet the eight hearts it has been carrying will remain afloat— with warm love, with fearless faith, with ceaseless hope. — 08.14.2018 ©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via Unsplash… Continue reading Damp Box

foggy borders

splat! goes the blood and some threads of bleeding muscles from his back to the waiting concrete wall. bang! goes the bullet as cold as the heart who pulled the trigger to put the 17-year-old to his final, breathless sleep. no more! goes some mouths to condemn the brutal purging and killing and planting of… Continue reading foggy borders

booms and bangs

boom! crumbles the church the city prayed. bang! rings the house of an old friend. boom! explodes a truck, bodies sprayed. bang! runs peace, hope, in a rushed parade. between the booms, bangs i plead above let this bad dream be cursed and damned. — This is a fictional poem inspired by the still unending… Continue reading booms and bangs