hell’s window

there is a paintingoutside my window, hell magnetingthe day sun's glow. stain of last nightrests on my pillow--- my unraveling with moonlight's bow. feels a few feet frommy reach, the sky, if only dusk can give me wings to fly. — 10.20.2020©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via Unsplash This work is licensed under… Continue reading hell’s window

steps to stay sane: a quadrille

fingers bumbling onblank spaces of boththe web and the tree's skin.grabbing yellows frombumblebees to paintsunsets where freedom wins. stirring orange fromdawn to make a cupof giggling cinnamon. stealing sweetnessfrom apple's bum---to have some sanity won. — 08.25.2020©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… Continue reading steps to stay sane: a quadrille

missing thumb: a quadrille

murderer. i am a murderer of eight. eight innocent lives my hands without green thumbs have ended the purple garden of eight eggplants. i was 15. since then i've not tried to get my fingers dirty, afraid to be a murderer for the ninth time. — 08.11.2020 ©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo… Continue reading missing thumb: a quadrille

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 by… Continue 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 via… Continue 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 my… Continue 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 Unsplash… Continue 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. Photo… Continue 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 via… Continue 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 Unsplash… Continue reading v i r t u o s o