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
fired-guns and drugs
to the hands
none can know if
innocent or not.

i now wonder
where is the
foggy border
between justice
and injustice,
instant law and
due process?

maybe the
monsoon shower
will soon wash away
the kiss of blood
on that cold wall,
maybe our minds
are also fogged
by the mist of
hazy judgments
as we silently ask:
“can these killings
save us all?”

Some thoughts after another brutal killing, part of the Philippine government’s war on drugs. Sigh. Sigh.
08.23.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Neven Krcmarek on Unsplash

In response to Poetics: Border by Grace
My prompt today is about border, that line separating two political or geographical areas, especially countries, or the outer part or edge. More than the physcial boundaries, there are borders which are invisible, such as an imaginary, social or mental borders. These kind of borders are more challening to overcome, don’t you agree?
dverse

what if?

as death is as normal as birth,
one day my ink will meet
its fading the end.
what if this poem is my last?
what if? what if?
what last lines would i want to leave?
what if? what if?
what final rhymes would i want to breathe?
what if? what if?

would i want to write
a heartfelt villanelle
to glorify the God
who made me well,
to thank the imperfect
yet loving parents
who compensated money with
their love and presence?

would i want to write
a throbbing aubade
to the he’s whom
i have loved?
fill every stanza
with bitter farewells
and warm kisses
they have forever missed out?

would i want to leave
a sweet, sweet sonnet
to the one man
who’ll have me last,
stamp every rhyme
and every line
with the promise of meeting again
inside heaven’s confines?

or would i want to leave
a freely flowing free verse,
about a life well lived
in better and in worse,
etch my last words
with gratefulness
and contentment,
for either way, i’m blessed.

what if this poem is my last?
i think i would be smiling if
this poem would be my parting gift
to those who have loved me
and i have loved unconditionally.

if this is the end for me and my poetry,
then i will park my pen,
beside my final lines and rhymes,
and then, rest peacefully.

08.02.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

sneaked in some time to post this poem after my looong hiatus. the lines:

what if this poem is my last?
what if? what if?
what last lines would i want to leave?
what if? what if?
what final rhymes would i want to breathe?
what if? what if?

are inspired by a poem by Davy D. i have a big event (at work) tomorrow and i dropped by to tell you all guys that I miss WordPress because of you all. as soon work calms a bit, i’ll go back. ❤ please don’t forget me. 🙂 Much love!


In response to The End paul scribbles.
This evening I want you to think about ‘THE END.’
dverse

Yes, I Am

he tried to give me
the kiss of eternity,
like a parched flower
he thought i need his shower,
but i don’t.

i felt my warm skin
against the cold wall,
as he pushed me deeper
to surrender my all,
but i don’t.

i sank, scratched my nails
against his back,
he tried to stop me
with a full-blown smack,
but i don’t.

before he gave
another strong blow,
i kicked hard
his tummy’s below,
yes, i do.

before my eardrums
cracked in his screams,
i pulled his gun’s trigger
and ended his dreams,
yes, i do.

for i am a woman
who doesn’t have a man,
but i won’t let anyone
to strip me to undone,
yes, i am.

now, ask me
if i am guilty,
of killing a monster
who could’ve killed me,
yes, i am.

06.14.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Public Domain Photo

In response to Mugging for the Camera by lillian.
Choose one of these mug shots from the 20s that “speaks to you.” Let your imagination go a bit wild for this prompt. You can be the person, talking to us; or put the person into a poetic “Wanted” poster. Or tell us a tale in verse that “spins” around the mug shot you select. You are limited only by the far reaches of your creativity! The one requirement is that you post the mug shot you choose, in addition to your “mug shot poem.” Surprise me! I’m looking forward to meeting some real characters!!!
dverse

 

 

 

Naked

strip me slowly,
it’s fine, i’m ready,
for you.

in your lines, take me
mind, heart, soul, wholly,
not few.

for i’m the real me
when you, poetry
leaks through.

06.09.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Lai It On! –dVerse MTB Victoria C. Slotto.
This is Victoria, today asking you to write a Lai. Yes, it’s pronounced “lay,” an old French poetry form that was used to tell tales of adventure and courage using octosyllabic lines.
dverse

Cloud of Pain

the thing about sadness is
it’s like a thick rain cloud
clogged inside your throat
blocking your breath,
your words,
even your screams.
you want to melt it,
get rid of it,
but it becomes bigger and bigger
choking you further and further.

but the thing about sadness is
when you finally surrender and bask
on its harsh downpour,
its painful drops
will help you grow,
will help you rise,
will help you heal, until
the suffocating cloud
finally bowed, finally bowed.

and the thing about sadness
being a dark rain cloud is it’s
living in a fading permanence.
it will pass.
it will fade.

but you, you are the sometimes defeated
yet always fighting sun.
you will rise again and again,
until no cloud of pain remains.
until no cloud of pain remains.

P.S. This is the poem I mentioned to you, Ameena. 🙂

05.06.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Poetics: Poems that could save your life by kim881.
The challenge is to write a poem to save someone’s life on one of the following themes:
apologies  –  bad hair day  –  bereavement  –  big decision  –  birthday blues  –  career crisis  –  commitment problems  –  divorce  –  does my bottom look big in this?  –  don’t let the bastards get you down  –  first date  –  first wrinkle  –  friendship  –  getting married  – hangover  –  illness  –  insomnia  –  is this relationship going anywhere?  –  is this the real thing?  –  Monday morning  –  money worries  –  moving house  –  parenthood  –  playing away  –  retail therapy  –  rock bottom  –  stressed out  – successfully single  –  when your lover has gone
dverse

 

The Afters

notice how the
verdant blanket
look greener
after a stormy night,

notice how the
sun’s glorious rays
shine extra brighter
after a pitch black night,

notice how your
fragile, fearful heart
beats braver
after losing a fight.

for in failing,
in losing,
we grow.

06.06.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Quadrille #34 by whimsygizmo.
Today, I want you to poem us up a perfect STORM.
dverse

 

 

One Heart at a Time

can an empty plate be a gift
to the young mouths
and empty stomachs
waiting for elusive food?

can a broken doll’s remaining head
pacify an orphan
after a destructive bomb
snatched her parents?

can an old, tattered blanket
warm up a homeless
sleeping naked
under the frozen rain?

can my hands and yours,
can my smile and yours,
be the calm,
be the balm,
of the wounds inflicted
by hate,
by war,
by injustices,
created by our co-humans?

maybe.
one heart at a time.

05.31.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Wrap it in Ribbons Please! by lillian.
So today’s prompt: write a poem that includes the word “gift”….or is a reminiscence about a gift you received or gave to someone. Gift us with your words!
dverse

Fading Photograph

i stumbled upon my five-year-old smile pasted on a fading photograph. it was just me and my sister. she was crying. i was clapping. (mean me?). my small mouth was wide open, wide enough to show the three blank, toothless-gaps. while my sister, a year younger, was red in her wailing feat.

looking at the once child me, i wonder when did my innocence fade? where did my child-like, pure bliss go? who snatched my genuine smile? is it the cruel world? or is it my own bitter words? but then the present mirror shows i may be tired, i may be sometimes sad, but i am braver. i am kinder. i am stronger. i am broken but better.

storm-battered sappling
turns into a dauntless tree.
breaking’s bravery.

05.24.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Haibun Monday #38, Kintsugi: The Art of Broken Pieces by Grace.
Our challenge is to write about finding beauty in the broken pieces or imperfection and/or the process of mending the broken pieces. You can write about a “broken” object, cityscape or landscape, or personal experience of mending and embracing imperfections. Please write 1 to 2 tight paragraphs of “prose”, followed by a nature-themed “haiku”.
Being that this is Haibun Monday, please write a haibun based on the prompt, ending with a seasonal haiku.   Don’t forget to visit and comment on others poetry, especially to those who have visited you.
dverse

Flower and the Bee (Part 1)

let me introduce you, my dear friends, to the amazing man i knew from Instagram. the epic photographer (go check his Instagram), a talented music producer and songwriter (go check his website), a budding amazing writer (yep. i am a fan and he is now on WordPress!), and my far away bestfriend, Shubhodeep Roy. 🙂 below is the lovely duet inspired by his photograph that we’re both delighted to share with you all. 😉

WhatsApp Image 2017-05-29 at 12.02.13

she was beautiful, a bright blue,
wearing a shiny coat of morning dew.
her sweet nectar was too much to resist,
so I dived into her and kissed.

the wind blew hard, we held on to each other,
she could have swayed and kicked me rather.
her delicate petals didn’t want to be free of me,
because i, however ugly, was her favorite bee.

he was the bubbly painted in yellow
buzzing loudly yet his inside is mellow.
his wings’ flaps are my kind of music,
as he nears i felt like i’m sea sick.

bathe in the warm morning rays, we kissed.
i hope my longing for him was unnoticed.
with him, i wish to have a time-stopping power,
for in warm dry or cold shower, i am his, flower.

05.23.2017
©2017 @Shubhodeeproy | @A Reading Writer.
All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Shubhodeep Roy

how about a warm welcome for my dear friend? 🙂 Check him out here. ❤

Crossing Continents

we agreed to
dig and dig,
down under where
the worms and seeds
sleep and sleep.

for at the middle
of this continental-crossing
tunnel,
we promise to
fin’lly meet.

let’s say pardon
to the roots our
shovels will
step on.

let’s say bye
to the above earth
we’ll forget as we
move on.

for we will meet
underground,
beyond borders
of the map.

for we will live
underground
away from hate,
yes, towards love.

05.24.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Underground by paul scribbles.
Bring me a poem from your underground travels and haul it back to the surface for us all to read. Happy writing.
dverse