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 armsContinue reading “praying nets”

steady anchor

As of the moment You surely know how our hands feel powerless, as if we sailed too far from our familiar land, stuck amidst the blue vast sea of uncertainty we are not sure how deep, how long will this salted wilderness be. An anchor weighs heavy yet can keep ships steady amidst a brutalContinue reading “steady anchor”

mer-made

gone are the days of a clear, singing underworld now icebergs are made of forgotten plastics half way, photographed before it fin’lly sinks, sea turtles’re choking with once-kissed resin straw have we peeled your rainbow scales with our cruel claws? — 06.24.2020 ©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via Unsplash This work isContinue reading “mer-made”

our shining moment: a haibun

A few days before this moment, online weather forecast reported not just rainfall but a thunderstorm. More than half of June was eaten by the summer sun, it should not be surprising if the Philippines’ monsoon is here to take its part of the pie. Still, palm to palm, my love and I send whispersContinue reading “our shining moment: a haibun”

come in, June

Come in. I am sorry for the lack of energy, would you like some lukewarm tea? Well, we are tired zombies, avoiding (or wait- ing) for the wind of death, we are suffocated not by the unseen killer but the cruel knee on our throat for centuries, (we chose to close our eyes on) well,Continue reading “come in, June”

hopping inside a wonderland

if i should have a chosen pet perhaps it will be a little bunny, (i once had one, but she died just after day one choked on a loaf bread my dumb 18-year-old mind foolishly fed it; rest in peace, mogu, i still feel sorry for what i did to you) running around my beige-tiledContinue reading “hopping inside a wonderland”

spring reeks with laughter of birds

April air reeks of unperfumed killer floating with spring, bobbing as daffodils sing, there goes selfish whims ransacking shelves of kindness, in a bid to survive hunger for toilet paper arrived, common sense of supposed “high- er beings” flushed, hummingbirds, sparrows, laugh at us. — 04.21.2020 ©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo viaContinue reading “spring reeks with laughter of birds”

if only my blanket can speak

rarely do i dream, or perhaps remember my private drama series playing under the consciousness i can not deliberately reach, though when i was able to grasp some bits of pieces of an already fading mid- night memory it will always involve a plane crash- ing (with full hollywood exaggerated effects of giant smoke andContinue reading “if only my blanket can speak”

little girls with chocolate cake feet

A two-minute quick sprint out of a wooden house with wiggling eight-step stairs (“our” because we live there, but is not really ours at all) and I and my two sisters are out of reach of our mom’s arms carrying the fourth young mouth of the family. Under a soft-roast summer noon, bare feet and littleContinue reading “little girls with chocolate cake feet”