praying nets

mix mud and heavy raindrops, a murky puddle void of the skill to mirror even the slightest silhouette, pour some more, pour some more, until it overpours into a snake-shaped waterway flowing gently in May, in a rugged rush on monsoon days, either way, on it, lays the floating wood and men with paddle armsContinue reading “praying nets”

camera shy: a haibun

Three photos have immortalised the birthday my mind cannot remember but will always be dear to me. The first photo was of me and my Tatay (father) who looks like a young TV actor with his Colgate-commercial-smile and polished moustache. My chubby, teenie tiny fingers were clinging tightly to his shirt, perhaps its instinct toContinue reading “camera shy: a haibun”

honest august

Come in, don’t be afraid, August, our blunt fists won’t bite your innocence, we just want you to please be honest, when can we taste the harvest of our last months’ chaos and mess? See, our nails are filled with dirt digging some seeds of winter hope to plant some spring fruit of faith, ourContinue reading “honest august”

mer-made

gone are the days of a clear, singing underworld now icebergs are made of forgotten plastics half way, photographed before it fin’lly sinks, sea turtles’re choking with once-kissed resin straw have we peeled your rainbow scales with our cruel claws? — 06.24.2020 ©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via Unsplash This work isContinue reading “mer-made”

come in, June

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”

escapees: a tanka*

prisoned in cream-kissed- walls. outside, wheels re- tain its daily, restless toil. pair of wheat feet frozen in tiled snow, still, free hands’ ink, flows. — 05.27.2020 ©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via Unsplash This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. — For dVerse Poetics: Make some room FeltContinue reading “escapees: a tanka*”

husband and wife, lockdown edition: a quadrille

screeching tires roared back to life running away from fuming wife, leaving minty toothpaste uncapped, garlic burnt with bitter bite, lockdown birthing silly fights. yet once the stars start blending the night, wheels will return to arms so light, hush, hush, let’s not fight. — 05.05.2020 ©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo byContinue reading “husband and wife, lockdown edition: a quadrille”

inside a journalist’s mind: a book spine poem

wild embers die trying the fourth estate and still i rise. — 04.24.2020 ©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo by me This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. — For dVerse Finding poems in bookshelves

spring reeks with laughter of birds

April air reeks of unperfumed killer floating with spring, bobbing as daffodils sing, there goes selfish whims ransacking shelves of kindness, in a bid to survive hunger for toilet paper arrived, common sense of supposed “high- er beings” flushed, hummingbirds, sparrows, laugh at us. — 04.21.2020 ©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo viaContinue reading “spring reeks with laughter of birds”

if only my blanket can speak

rarely do i dream, or perhaps remember my private drama series playing under the consciousness i can not deliberately reach, though when i was able to grasp some bits of pieces of an already fading mid- night memory it will always involve a plane crash- ing (with full hollywood exaggerated effects of giant smoke andContinue reading “if only my blanket can speak”