I write because I read. I read because I write.
my palms can hold your hand at night, i wonder how they reached so many miles, combed some bay andthe west sea, with a floater. i am sure. probably. you have ten fingers butfelt like twenty in a piano. you ticklemy toes and make my heart flutterlike a feather from a cheerful sparrow. mornings. i… Continue reading sparrowed mornings
after Alice Walker and Zora Neale Hurston Blue. Perhaps baby blue. The shade you gift a baby boy in a shower that does not involve a drop of water. But I'm talking about the July sky, here, in my corner of earth, is rarely blue. Mostly grey. The difference was the absence of flying tins.… Continue reading where are the planes
born in the era of wide-legged pantshis limbs - bamboos - his hands - cloudto touch. his eyes,thin eyes, disappearwhen he smiles. he dances, sings without juke, Elton and Michaelcroon inside his heart.no wonder, no wonderhe is my darlingdad. — 18.06.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via Unsplash This work is licensed under a Creative Commons… Continue reading darling
my brain, moresmudge than wrinkled-thinking-machine,eye-to-eye — last week's cold coffee & I — where is the milkin this sugarlessgoodbye. we're lockedbut we're also the key. there is a story withinthese cracks in timid tremble float, afloat.up, up, andaway. — 15.06.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via Unsplash This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives… Continue reading can you catch me?
out of curiosity, how does it feel to be the middle month free of fireworks, carols,and turkey? the juicymango sun, the nod-ding daffodils, the terracotta leaves, all are not in your hands. June, doyou feel heavy or light as sand? — 01.06.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via Unsplash This work is licensed under a Creative… Continue reading the weight of june
A bat flies towards the berry tree. If it has a fruit on its mouth, it's too dark to see. The dinner's curry cooks with cumin, turmeric, kashmiri, with some cinnamon bark and cardamom, too. Afternoon's rain anointed the soil just before the stars woke up. The spiced-breeze eats up the last tinge of petrichor.… Continue reading moon’s eyes: a haibun
sing to me Polaris' songsteady, constant of the north.show my midnight lullabysoftly rocking, back and forth.see the map on my pillowsalted as sunbathing seas.shoo my fears, shoo them for me. — 11.25.2020©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:… Continue reading shhh: a pleiades*
once smooth as petals will shrink into a crumpled autumn leaf, waiting for annual earth's melting tofertilise spring's kids. — 11.20.2020©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 MTB: Jisei (Japanese Death Poems) The *tanka is a thirty-one-syllable poem, traditionally written in a single… Continue reading the invisible cycle: a tanka*
earth's coating on late autumn (ayard of naked trees open for theearly frost) not death but a promisestamped on your irises' bows. — 11.18.2020©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: Look into my Eyes Did you see the hidden word?… Continue reading see me see you
