steady anchor

nega-YdyhHbWZ1V0-unsplash

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 brutal shore.
You’re mine and more.

Here are my palms lifted
as far as one can reach,
open our ears, our hearts for
the lessons You want to teach.

08.09.2020
©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

april, be all but red

finally, you arrived,
please take a seat.

you want tea, or
cup of coffee, or
perhaps a cooling lime?

you got fresh 30 days
on your spring, pastel
sleeves.

need not to tell me
what you got in store
for me and for the
fellow beings of
this overwhelmed
earth,

i just want to ask,
if i may, you might
have heard your
predecessors hands
are tainted in red—

blood, chaos, anger,
fear, love, yes, there is
love—

but please do not
dip your hands with
them, please be blue

of the promising sky
and the arms of
the accepting sea,

or be yellow of the
sun smiling or
of a tropical
pineapple, both
tangy and sweet,

or be pastel pink
of cherry blossoms—
still a dream for me—
of a cotton candy
reminding us
of innocent days,

happy and free.

well, to cut it short,
you can be all the
colours you want
to be, just that, we

are very tired,

April, can you be

better than
March, February, January?

04.01.2020
©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
For dVerse Seeing Red!

weightless earth

where flood goes beyond murky dirt,
transforms into the lightness of a sea’s
cerulean hands guiding transparent streams,

where lighthouses mark the arrival
on a safer place to land, free of clawing
ghosts of the past’s unstitched seams,

where guns burst life instead of endings,
rescuing preys from predators, away
from disturb mind’s cruel schemes,

where kitchens leak of onion and garlic
a prelude to satiated stomachs courtesy
of porcelain plates filled to the brim,

where calendar leaves exhale oxygens
filling gasping lungs with breathing hope,
for the fresh January moonbeams,

where mother earth’s dress dances
with unbearable weightlessness, free from
dark hate, clothed in faith’s balming cream,

where humans are humans being,
living in a new world, a new peace-filled world—
please let not this be an impossible dream.

12.18.2019
©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash
For dVerse’s Poetics: New Year – New World
My book, Poems for S is now available here: https://amzn.to/2CSrGAU  and in India via Pothi.com: https://bit.ly/2M4KwK3
Mockup for Facebook image_v2

First Prayer

A chain smoker. A decade-long drug addict. An abusive and unfaithful husband. An irresponsible father.

Yes. That’s me.

It is surely surprising for you to see me here. Seating in the middle of your holy house.

Honestly, I never planned to go to you. I have never went to you, in fact. Maybe the first and the last time that I stepped into your sacred home was when I was christened. And then just a day after that you killed my mom. Then my abusive and irresponsible dad, well, like father like son, left me too.

That’s how unfair you have been to me!

I learned to steal food to survive, even when I’m just three. I have evolved to a full-blown criminal with gangs as the family that you never let me have. I never get married, I have loved one woman only, but that doesn’t mean I was a good partner.

You cannot blame me, though. Because you’ve been unfair to me. Until now… you’re unfair to me.

So why the hell am I here?

For her, the only person that loved me despite my dark side.

For the first time and for the last time, I am begging you to please let her live.

I will not blame you, though I really badly want to curse you because you’ve been unfair to me! But for the sake of my five-year-old granddaughter, I am down on bended knees, please let her live.

She is the reason why my daughter let me live with them. She is the reason why her mom accepted me. It’s because of her, why I am now with my family after so many years.

She’s the only person who talks to me. She’s the only kid who considers me as a family. Her smiles are like sun rays. Her laughter are like chimes from heaven. She is my joy, she is my light.

And… she’s so young.

You can take me because my life has been wasted ever since. So come on! Take me!

But please… oh Lord… let my granddaughter live.

11.20.2015
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash
Originally written for Blogging University’s WRITING 101 Day 15 Assignment.

On Waiting

june 19

Oh, are we there yet?
I almost, always ask You.
Wait child, you tell me.

There are some lessons
you will never learn, unless
you wait for life’s turn.


True, it’s not easy
but someday you’ll thank me, ’cause
it’ll be worth it.

03.17.2016
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Unsplash


Heart’s Voice*

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Let your words
say nothing but thanks.
Let your heart
beats nothing but love.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Mayur Gala


In response to Daily Post: Voice

*My heart is currently badly broken by the death of Courageous Caitie. She is a 3-year old Filipina who has been diagnosed with a very rare type of blood cancer. Her family flew from the Philippines to Singapore to have a concrete diagnosis, as no local doctors were able to identify her illness.

I have been following her story. Her parents’ faith is admirable amid the pain they are going through. But above all, I am in awe of Caitie’s courage. She is tough for a three-year old kid.

Now ,she is on God’s loving arms. No more pain. But my heart is still breaking, especially for her mom.

I can never grasp how painful it is to lose a kid you have reared for nine months. I can never ever understand that.

All I can offer now is prayers.

Please offer some for them, too?

Thank you!

 

Blessed at 24

24 years

of Your faithfulness.

288 months

of life’s both blessings and mess.

8,760 days

or even more,

I will sing

of your praise,

until that day

when my soul to You will soar.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Indulgy


DAY 50 of 50 Days of Gratefulness

Today, I am grateful for the life that God has given me.

At exactly 12:05 PM today, I’ll officially turn 24. 🙂

My heart’s full of gratefulness for the years that have passed.

And it is full of hope for more years my life will last.

~

Whisper

It’s 6 o’clock.

Finally, I can now go.

Wait!

You have to edit this.

You have to send that.

You have to write this.

You have to check that.

Okay, 6:30.

No.

6:45?

Still no.

Sigh.

7:15 off I go.

With eyes tired, mind drained, energy low.

I whispered a simple prayer

that’s nearly impossible.

A bus with a seat, I hoped for.

I arrived at the bus bay and waited.

Seconds later, my prayer’s answered.

—-

©2015 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Background Images Free


 

DAY 3 of 50 Days of Gratefulness

Today I am grateful for God’s answers to my simplest prayers.

Odd as it may seem, a bus where I can still sit during my almost 2 hours ride home is as seldom as raindrops during dry season.

But last night, a yellow bus with a lot of vacant seats arrived a few seconds after I started waiting.

I guess with Him, no prayer is too big or too small. 

He’s surely waiting for your whisper. Go tell him.

~

Writing 101: First Prayer

A chain smoker. A decade-long drug addict. An abusive and unfaithful husband. An irresponsible father.

Yep. That’s me.

It is surely surprising for you to see me here. Seating in the middle of your holy house.

Honestly, I never planned to go to you. I have never went to you, in fact. Maybe the first and the last time that I stepped into your sacred home was when I was christened. And then just a day after that you killed my mom. Then my abusive and irresponsible dad, well, like father like son, left me too.

That’s how unfair you have been to me!

I learned to steal food to survive, even when I’m just three. I have evolved to a full-blown criminal with gangs as the family that you never let me have. I never get married, I have loved one woman only, but that doesn’t mean I was a good partner.

You cannot blame me, though. Because you’ve been unfair to me. Until now… you’re unfair to me.

So why the hell am I here?

For my lovely Nicole, the only person that loved me despite of my dark side.

For the first time and for the last time, I am begging you to please let Nicole live.

I will not blame you, though I really badly want to curse you because you’ve been unfair to me! But for the sake of my five-year-old grand daughter, I am down on bended knees, please let her live.

She is the reason why my daughter let me live with them. She is the reason why her mom accepted me. It’s because of her, why I am now with my family after so many years.

She’s the only person who talks to me. She’s the only kid who considers me as a family. Her smiles are like sun rays. Her laughters are like chimes from heaven. She is my joy, she is my light.

And… she’s so young.

You can take me, because my life has been wasted ever since. So come on! Take me!

But please… oh Lord… let my grand daughter live.

—–

©2015 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Stefan Kunze


In response to Writing 101:

Day 15: Take a cue from your readers

Remember the contact form or poll that you set up earlier to collect suggestions from your readers? Write today’s post based on one of these ideas. Be sure to mention the person who gave you this idea, and link back to their blog. (Don’t worry about giving credit if your idea came from an anonymous poll.)


 

Thank you to those blogger who voted for SHORT FICTION.

🙂