dawn’s affair

Curl in your tummy closer to your chest,ribbon each second,let your lungs rest.Closer to your chest, consider each night'sblank page mess where youribbon each second,lasso the closest moon,blink with two fireflies, thenlet your lungs restbefore your ears hum with tomorrow's yolk-sun. — 18.06.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via Unsplash This work is licensed under… Continue reading dawn’s affair

Risk

after Anaïs Nin curled.like a tighter "c",too shy to takeits forehead up,for now.risk.from an asleep seedto a pale stem,leaves-armed, waiting.sun.here we come.here wecome. — 09.06.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via The Seeds Master This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. — For dVerse Poetics: Take a risk! Inspired by the germinating chilli… Continue reading Risk

beautiful girl

after Sara Bareilles twirl, twirl, twirl,how long have you beentwirling, twirling, twirling?you're a top. their words make your self-worth spin,"fat arms,fat tummy,fat fingers.you don't drink,how come you havebeer belly?" a cocoon you builtaround yourself, beautiful girl. don't trade your marshmallow-softnessfor their starved hips,beautiful girl.they're blinded by your wings, glittered, come,you, oh you,beautiful girl. — 04.06.2021©2021… Continue reading beautiful girl

a thousand times: after The Kite Runner

yes, for you, a thousand times,a thousand times over.hush. don't roll that question mark out of your tongue.you never questionthe lyrics of hummingbirds'afternoon noon song, never doubted each stroke ofsunset, all hues're never wrong. hush, let lick straightyour forehead knots, come listen, closer, for you, a thousand times,a thousand times over. — 26.05.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading… Continue reading a thousand times: after The Kite Runner

take a seat and see

rolled sunset crawlsto kiss whale's home,persimmon spilled.wilted leaves archtowards foliage tomb,autumn fulfilled. cold keys hangvoid of fingers, warm, bite the seed of hopewill it burst somebitter crumb? consider the possibilityof wings once our breathssuccumb — 11.17.2020©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.… Continue reading take a seat and see

in three lines (short poems): out now

Close to seven months now, the pandemic situation has kept me inside a cream-colored, four-cornered room inside the belly of a city with tongues not of my own. Alone. The first months caught me off guard, I got no printed books to keep me company. Hence I took to subscribing to virtual ones like @scribd . This… Continue reading in three lines (short poems): out now

cheese moon

if moon is made of cheesei will call it mine,every night, i'll sink my teethto its gooey-divine. if moon is made of cheesei'll swim in pools of wine,to drown the emptinessof our mattressed-shrine. if moon is made of cheesei'll drink its yellow shine,to cheer the longing of my autumn, drooping spine. if moon is made… Continue reading cheese moon

on decaying days and pumpkin soup

Monsoon rain welcomes you, on my side of the world. I hope your crimson hair isn’t damp. You can leave your slippers out. I made some pumpkin soup, well, this lockdown taught me how to cook. Perhaps, aloneness teaches humans better than any book. I saw some photos of orange lanes, your touch is turning… Continue reading on decaying days and pumpkin soup

shedding: a haiku

choir of crickets humtonight's final song, a clown sheds its mask, alone. — 08.20.2020©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 Poetics — Clowning Around

praying nets

mix mud and heavy raindrops, a murky puddle void of the skill to mirror even the slightest silhouette, pour some more, pour some more, until it overpours into a snake-shaped waterway flowing gently in May, in a rugged rush on monsoon days, either way, on it, lays the floating wood and men with paddle arms… Continue reading praying nets