sad – A Reading Writer

the gentle whispers of the trees’ breeze. the tender murmur of river’s flow. the playful tweets of the little birds. these sweet sensual delights are the reasons why we used to visit this river. the river we called ours.

today i clutch unto you, unto your vessel. your vessel made of cold porcelain, a stark contrast to how warm your hands were when you held mine.

slowly opening the lid, feeling what was left of your mortality, i let the salty tears wet my face as i let your ashes be one with the river. the river we called ours.

—

Note: I wrote this piece with Ed Sheeran’s Supermarket Flowers playing in my ears. Sigh.

Oh, I’m in pieces, it’s tearing me up, but I know
A heart that’s broke is a heart that’s been loved

—

Word count: 100

©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: My dearie Maria of Doodles and Scribbles

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) April 11, 2017.

The Bathroom Pianist

March 8, 2017March 8, 2017 areadingwriter36 Comments

I was three when curiosity was born inside me. I remember the first thing I asked my mom was about the grand piano covered and silenced inside her room’s bathroom.

I grew old asking why it’s hidden. She has offered me nothing but a teary smile, until today. With the same nostalgic yet melancholic look, she said, “Your dad proposed to me with a song he composed inside his house’s bathroom with this piano.”

“Everyday I wait for him to get this back or to play for me again. I placed it here so he knows where to find it.”

—

Note: The tiled wall looks bathroom to me. 😀

—

Word count: 100

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

Photo credit: Mike Vore

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) March 07, 2017. Glad to be back dear PJ! ❤

Red: A Rondelet

October 25, 2016October 23, 2016 areadingwriter31 Comments

Dripping red blood
from her pale wrist she cut deeply.
Dripping red blood
screams her pain she kept hidden, locked.
She relish the pain silently,
her final seconds end slowly—
dripping red blood.

—

Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to OctPoWriMo 2016 by Morgan Dragonwillow‘s Day 25.

—

The Rondelet is a relatively short poem using the entire opening line as its refrain. It is French in origin, another member of the 13th century Rondeau Family of Forms which is defined by its use of the rentrement.

The Rondelet is:

a heptastich, a poem in 7 lines.
in French syllabic. Syllable count per line are 4-8-4-8-8-8-4 In English tends to be iambic in pattern.
composed with a rentrement, in the Rondelet the entire L1 is repeated as refrain in L3 and L7.
rhymed. Rhyme scheme interlocks between the refrain AbAabbA.

The Plan

September 8, 2016 areadingwriter59 Comments

I looked at the sky painted in pretty purple and pink.
I counted the building’s floors, trying hard not to blink and think.
Calm down, jumping is fun and surely death will swiftly come.

—

Photo credit: Steven Wei

In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week Thirty-Two.

If you want to join, here are the simple rules:

Write three lines inspired by the photo prompt.
Link back to this post.
Tag your post with 3LineTales (so we can find you in the Reader).
Read and comment on other TLT participants’ lines.
Have fun.

Am I Gone?

August 24, 2016August 12, 2016 areadingwriter45 Comments

Is there somebody
who’ll be willing to save
my soul, my heart, me.

They say I
only feel
the love I like,
they don’t know I’m
slowly fading
dying, drifting away.

—

Inspired by City Lights by Sara Bareilles.

Photo credit: Unsplash

Velleitie

August 16, 2016August 11, 2016 areadingwriter52 Comments

My fingers will never be enough to count how many times you whispered you love me most. Love me more than anyone in the world. Love me more than anything on earth.

How you want to have a home with white picket fence, where you and me and our four little kids will live with utmost happiness.

But then for ten long years of hearing your words, you’ve never climbed even the first step. Your dreams remain dreams, your words remain noises your tongue uttered.

I guess it’s now time to remove my cloak of hope. Maybe when I’m gone you can make your dreams more than a hope.

—

Photo credit: Unsplash, Tumblr

Word prompt: Melinda Kucsera of In Media Res (Thank you, dearest friend!)

Still Screams

August 12, 2016August 3, 2016 areadingwriter30 Comments

my heart
still screams
your name,
though mind
says we’ll never
be the same.

your mind’s
now filled
with fame,
true love’s
now not
your heart’s game.

mind tries
hard to
keep sane,
while my heart
still screams
your name.

—

Photo credit: Unsplash

Nelipot

August 8, 2016August 8, 2016 areadingwriter18 Comments

The burning ball seating proudly at the highest height, burns the stoned alley towards a home without a light.

There a nameless man lives with no living thing but himself. Surrounded by less non-breathing things, to him was left.

Once he was known as a dashing bachelor, until a deceitful woman snatched his valor.

Now he lives with almost nothing not even a shoe, well he don’t need one as he lives locked in his light-less house’s own flu.

—

Photo credit: Unsplash, Tumblr

Word prompt: Melinda Kucsera of In Media Res (Thank you, dearest friend!)

Tag: sad

the echoes you left

12.12.2019
©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

—

For dVerse Poetics: Echo. . .echo . . .echo

My upcoming book, Poems for S is up for pre-order. See it here: https://amzn.to/2CSrGAU .