g o l d s m i t h ( a haibun )

Whenever I look back, I see the zigzag road of twists and turns, of ups and downs, my once proud heart has been through. I was a decorated student. My dad won’t walk with me in graduation ceremonies without a medal. His standard has been my fire. To excel. To be the best. To aim higher.

Whenever I look back, I realize those golden necklaces did nothing but bloat my ego and tire my soul. After college, they became more like a baggage than an honour. I was a Cum Laude (with honors) who can’t land a job for almost a year. A bright student who can’t pass her (many) final interviews.

Whenever I look back, I remember how His hands so holy carefully crack my pride and douse my smoke of arrogance. I remember the pain as my narcissistic temple crumble. I remember how with bowed neck, medals removed, feet blistered, heart surrendered, I learned His goodness and grace as I waited for Him to transform me into a humble, pure gem.

Calloused rock battered,
crushed, melted with brutal flame.
Gold birthed in waiting.

11.27.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse Haibun Monday: Waiting

p r e a m b l e

Softly part my
curtain thick
with innocence
preserved by
conscious choice.

Brick by brick,
please gently
chip, my wall
of fear—

to be charted
by a pair of
searching hands
detached from
my own
wheat arms,

by loose lips
longingly yearning
to take what
has always
been mine,

by unknown,
foreign organ
aching to reach the
so soft cave, I
have guarded all
this time.

With cheeks red,
chest raised,
breaths too short,
skin so warm,
stripped and bare,

“oh, my love,
you’re welcome.”

11.21.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse Poetics: Desire and Sexuality in Poetry

 

soon, my love

Faint, fainter, faintest,
goes the winky cars
passing by.

Dark, darker, darkest,
goes the moonless
November sky.

Soft, softer, softest
goes the notes
of lullaby.

Sleepy, sleepier, sleepiest,
goes the tired city
whisp’ring goodbye.

Soon, sooner, soonest,
I’ll be near,
as another day dies.

11.06.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

Written while listening to Sara Bareilles’ City as my heart yearns for my he.
For dVerse Quadrille Wink

 

time zones

High-pitched
giggles of sparrows
no longer echo
inside the cave
of my ears

before the kraa kraa
of your crows
disrupt your evening’s
fiction dreams.

Yet what a gift
that despite
our clock’s
different schemes

your early
and my early
daily meet
in between.

10.23.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse Quadrille 67— Early

b r e a t h e d e a t h

An ache inside the caged loud heart
an itch within each vein of hands

to ink the thumps, restless, so loud
da dum, da dum, da dum, breath found.

Perhaps, like leaves of red autumn
under the full October moon

the muse woke up, and then, looked up,
opened its mouth, and then, fade out,

to kiss the earth, its deepest core,
to die with words, is not dying

at all.

10.12.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse MTB — Iambic Pentameter.

Meaning

Binded but never blinded collection
Of letter conniving to form words
Of timeless wisdom freeing up minds
Kept inside the dark room of ignorance.

08.10.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse: Celebrate with me today!
I’m celebrating National Book Lovers Day!

yours (a zejel)

My written words are now sweeter.
My sword sharper, my soul softer.
Your love made me better, braver.

Aboard the Himalayan air,
you trekked slowly near my heart’s chair,
braving love’s daunting, unmapped lair.
I felt your presence crawl nearer.

With tongue with none but honesty,
you brought not roses, sugary,
instead rhododendrons, spicy.
I smelled your soul’s songs closer.

With your hands, beside the road fire,
I heard my heart’s plea of desire,
“in my soon home you’ll be the sire.”
I’m now yours alone, forever.

03.26.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Shubhodeep Roy

In response to Blogging from A to Z Challenge and NaPoWriMo 2018.
Z is for Zejel.
Zéjel is a romantic Spanish form with Arabic influence related to the Qasida and adopted by the Spanish troubadours of 15th century.
Zéjel are:
  1. syllabic, most often written in 8 syllable lines.
  2. stanzaic, opening with a mono-rhymed triplet followed by any number of quatrains.
  3. rhymed, the rhyme of the opening mudanza establishes a linking rhyme with the end line of the succeeding quatrains. Rhyme scheme, aaa bbba ddda etc

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autumn bliss (a ya-du)

Shovel summer,
fall whispers death.
Warmer days’ done.
Here comes red leaves,
trees with naked sleeves.

Let autumn’s kiss
lull pain’s hiss, and
dismiss your hate.
Bliss is sweeter
for the forgiver.

03.26.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Blogging from A to Z Challenge and NaPoWriMo 2018.
Y is for Ya-Du.
The Ya-Du or ritú (season) is stanzaic form dedicated to the seasons. The theme should express the emotions the seasons evoke. The form is a 15th century Burmese pattern using a climbing rhyme.  The elements of the Ya-Du are:
  1. L1-L4 tetrasyllabic (4) and L5 may be 5,7, 9, or 11 syllables. 4-4-4-4-(5,7,9, or 11)
  2. stanzaic, written in no more than 3 cinquains.
  3. The form employs a climbing rhyme in which the 4th syllable of L1 rhymes with the 3rd syllable of L2 and the 2nd syllable of L3. L4 and L5 end rhyme.
  4. dedicated to the seasons and the emotions they evoke.
x x x a
x x a x
x a x x

x x x b

x x x x b
or
x x x x x x b etc

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verbs (a vakh)

Know the meaning of brave, break.
Learn the meaning of love, lose.
Swallow your unsaid words, breathe.
Think death is coming soon, live.

03.26.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Blogging from A to Z Challenge and NaPoWriMo 2018.
V is for Vakh.
Vakh (Sanskrit – “speech” interpreted by some as “verse teaching”) is a 14th century stanzaic form, originated by a woman poet, Lalla-Devi or Lallashwari, a Kashmiri Shaivite mystic and Sufi saint. 258 poems by Lalla were preserved in this form ranging from songs, proverbs and prayers. This form is found among the earliest Kashmiri literature and records when the Kashmiri language emerged from a descendant of Sanskrit.
The elements of the  Vakh are:
  1. a tetrastich, a poem in 4 lines although it has occasionally been found in a couple of stanzas of 4 lines.
  2. syllabic, lines of 7 syllables each, with 4 stresses per line.
  3. occasionally rhymed with true or near rhyme.

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dappled (a tanaga)

Brain is the forest dappled,
with foliage of thoughts, puzzled.
Each nerve struck a dried twig breaks
leaking rash words without brakes.

Heart is the sea uncharted,
with no fences yet guarded.
Each thump opens more chambers
only for brave wanderers.

03.26.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Blogging from A to Z Challenge and NaPoWriMo 2018.
T is for Tanaga.
The Tanaga is a Filipino stanzaic form that was originally written in Tagolog which to my ear is one of the more musical of languages. (Kumusta ka? Mabuti salam at) The form dates back to the 16th century and has an oral tradition. The poems are not titled. Each is emotionally charged and asks a question that begs an anwer. This form was found at Kaleidoscope.  The elements of the Tanaga are:
  1. stanzaic, written in any number of quatrains.
  2. syllabic, 7-7-7-7 syllables per line.
  3. rhymed, originally aaaa bbbb cccc etc., modern Tanagas also use aabb ccdd etc or abba cddc etc or any combination rhyme can be used.
  4. composed with the liberal use of metaphor.
  5. untitled.

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