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

map of mess

Unfinished coffee,
void of warmth,
aching for last touch.
Oh, the daddy.

Spilled sauces blots
on canvas, wait,
it’s kitchen table top.
Oh, the mommy.

Crumbs of cookies
paved roads for
the hard working ants.
Oh, the eldest.

Traps made of Lego
too tiny, too tough,
barefoot left scathed.
Oh the youngest.

Bedroom scented
with the musk of
used pair of socks.
Oh, the middle child.

This map of mess
proves a house is still
a living,

breathing

home.

10.17.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse Beauty in Ugliness.

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.

Soon

Feet floating on
notes of a love song
we call ours,

with blooms of
baby’s breath tuck
in between my
dark hair strands,

each step I make
will lead me towards

the end of my life;
the start of ours.

Take my hand,
it’s now all yours, my love.

08.09.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

Fingers and Palms

Thin but brave bones
bending but seldom
or just sometimes breaking.
With muscles built
for exercise— gripping,
typing, or clenching.
The puzzle of fingers
and palms, I thought
need not completing.

Until my right had
felt your left—
oh, this is what
complete means.

07.31.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to dVerse Quadrille 61.

NEW BOOK: Between My Bleeding Lines Extended Edition

I was gone for quite a long time, now I’m back with a big big big news about my second poetry collection: Between My Bleeding Lines Extended Edition!

imgpsh_fullsize

From last year’s first edition with 100 poems, this new collection contains over 160 pieces and more are now in the hopeful part of the book, which is the third chapter, Forbearer (one who endures).

Between My Bleeding Lines Extended Edition is also now published in the Philippines via my publisher, Yamada Publishing owned by Kota Yamada.

Interested to order? See the book price and the shipping cost here: goo.gl/forms/hMzkOwVz8YaeImxq1

I’m back with more poems, poets and friends! 🙂

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

images.jpeg

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

images.jpeg