husband and wife, lockdown edition: a quadrille

screeching tires roared back to life running away from fuming wife, leaving minty toothpaste uncapped, garlic burnt with bitter bite, lockdown birthing silly fights. yet once the stars start blending the night, wheels will return to arms so light, hush, hush, let’s not fight. — 05.05.2020 ©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo byContinue reading “husband and wife, lockdown edition: a quadrille”

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”

A quadrille for my Rodnoy, my king of sonnets

A peaceful Sunday, watching queen sun’s everyday bowing, with a shaken call, soul-stirring words, i learned of your sudden passing, premature, it is, a thief of sonnets I did not see coming, with a holed heart I ache for your pen’s rash drying. — A poem I wish I never had to write for myContinue reading “A quadrille for my Rodnoy, my king of sonnets”

open your eyes, see how the world undresses: a quadrille

(revolving earth undresses, each season unravels) spring, peeler of silent blue winter, blush in pastel young blooms, will then succumb to laughing rays of golden sun, salted seas curdle to scarlet red as autumn conquers the rusting lawns, (revolving earth undresses, each season unravels) — 02.25.2020 ©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via UnsplashContinue reading “open your eyes, see how the world undresses: a quadrille”

scars and rushing cars: a quadrille

December streets twinkling sprinkled earth-based stars, children giggling despite knees’ scars, gold bells singing with wooden guitars, sweet smiles brimming over jovial jars, 30,000 flying, I watch for afar, our planet glow- ing ‘bove hate’s ashen char, hope, faith, joy fill- ing Christmas’ delivery car. — 12.17.2019 ©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. PhotoContinue reading “scars and rushing cars: a quadrille”

questions for soles who crave to walk on eggshells: a quadrille

cr-cr-cr-crack one corner after another, tip-tip-toe carefully, on top of crumbling eggshells. is it, is it a triumph to walk his crushed carpet of survival? w-w-why do we choose to create home inside crevices so fragile? is it called saving? or is it suicidal? — 11.19.2019 ©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo viaContinue reading “questions for soles who crave to walk on eggshells: a quadrille”

v i r t u o s o

virtuoso, oh no, i am no ace of (many) no’s, i am not numb (yet) against spades of (vicious) no’s, but I’ve my shield of self-belief,  just enough to help me swallow (sharp) eyes menacing, (brute) words piercing, (twisted) life unveiling, on my own. 03.18.2019 ©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo by Cristina Gottardi on UnsplashContinue reading “v i r t u o s o”

last leaf

cheers for choked up tears, cries without list’ning ears. cheers for wistful dreams caught or lost in raging streams. cheers for days of cavalier where lone strength perseveres, cheers for named fears fin’lly found courage sears, cheers for ‘nother year, lost hope grows, reappears. — 12.04.2018 ©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo viaContinue reading “last leaf”

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 UnsplashContinue reading “soon, my love”

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 UnsplashContinue reading “time zones”