mid-air: a quadrille

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

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

a hospital triptych

second left from the oldlift, three pink babiesare sound asleep.two floors below, an oldwoman tears to see hermom who's long beengone.inside the doctor's officea family of four awaitsresults of cameras that invaded their fatheryesterday. “To everything there is a season.” Ecclesiastes 3:1 — 02.24.2022©2022 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via Unsplash.This work is licensed under a Creative Commons… Continue reading a hospital triptych

sink me: a haiku

floating seaweed by Fay Collins sea blue paints my lips---grinning red. ready to sinkinside seaweeds' arms. — 11.25.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via https://faycollinsart.co.uk/This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. For dVerse: Tuesday Poetics: Fay Collins revisited. - Wrote a haiku for this painting by Fay Collins. As a tropical woman born in the lovely… Continue reading sink me: a haiku

talking to myself: a wayra

hush. whispers the moonto my walking worry. shh.shallow faith, sink and savorsuch unsure shore. in your night dress, count holy graces. hush. — 11.19.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via UnsplashThis work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. For dVerse: Poetry Form: The Wayra - Thank you, Grace, for featuring my poem there and for levelling… Continue reading talking to myself: a wayra

bang: a quadrille

walking bones and fleshtalking nerves cartilagesmachinery - dark inside - yet summer warm with heart as suni wonder those with long long gunsas they fire bang see blood and brain splattered who is the god who honors what their masked lips prayed? — 08.20.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo by freestocks on Unsplash This… Continue reading bang: a quadrille

for the one waiting: a kasa*

Heart rusted by old clock's thick hands,death never knocks, no one arrives. You've suit yourself in silence's lap,still steps of spring bring in lilacs. As blossoms wilt, more souls depart, while you're still there, above graveyards. Immortal but forever cursed— to wait for love, that never stays. — 08.20.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo… Continue reading for the one waiting: a kasa*

an afternoon: a mirrored refrain*

Choir of August rain singsTo soil and cloud just married,Though the door is open wideMy feet remains buried.A cup of tea, I made,With cubed sugar on the side,My feet remains buriedThough the door is open wide.Silence sat beside me With light solitude carried,Though the door is open wideMy feet remains buried. Grey sky may seem… Continue reading an afternoon: a mirrored refrain*

by the hills

aglasswindowmultiple f e e t& arms wide blessed with the f a r peaks view looking so nearmy tongue can l i c k their iced tips.legs of oaks holding our toes afloat asif the drop is not 5,000 feet. considerthe wild strawberries outside, untouch-ed yet blossoming under the winter airsome cicadas are here to… Continue reading by the hills

talisman

flowers,petals. your charm.soft, silky worn by lilies, wild daffodils, on your head they sit and take tea, Persephone. do they wilt as yourscented toes step towards your beloved's grave? because the leaves do.because the leaves do. — 08.04.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via Unsplash This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International… Continue reading talisman