Cloud of Pain

the thing about sadness is
it’s like a thick rain cloud
clogged inside your throat
blocking your breath,
your words,
even your screams.
you want to melt it,
get rid of it,
but it becomes bigger and bigger
choking you further and further.

but the thing about sadness is
when you finally surrender and bask
on its harsh downpour,
its painful drops
will help you grow,
will help you rise,
will help you heal, until
the suffocating cloud
finally bowed, finally bowed.

and the thing about sadness
being a dark rain cloud is it’s
living in a fading permanence.
it will pass.
it will fade.

but you, you are the sometimes defeated
yet always fighting sun.
you will rise again and again,
until no cloud of pain remains.
until no cloud of pain remains.

P.S. This is the poem I mentioned to you, Ameena. 🙂

05.06.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Poetics: Poems that could save your life by kim881.
The challenge is to write a poem to save someone’s life on one of the following themes:
apologies  –  bad hair day  –  bereavement  –  big decision  –  birthday blues  –  career crisis  –  commitment problems  –  divorce  –  does my bottom look big in this?  –  don’t let the bastards get you down  –  first date  –  first wrinkle  –  friendship  –  getting married  – hangover  –  illness  –  insomnia  –  is this relationship going anywhere?  –  is this the real thing?  –  Monday morning  –  money worries  –  moving house  –  parenthood  –  playing away  –  retail therapy  –  rock bottom  –  stressed out  – successfully single  –  when your lover has gone
dverse

 

Our River

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. 🙂

Red: A Rondelet

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.

Waiting Under the Gray Clouds

You said we are
never too far
until we are
under the same sky.

“You are my sun,
I am your moon.”
But then why did
we end so soon?

As blue clouds
turns to gray,
I’ll try to keep
my tears at bay.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to dVerse‘s Quadrille #18: Clouds by kim881 who wrote about Busting Clouds.

dverse

Here’s how to Quadrille:

– Write a poem of exactly 44 words, including the word cloud.
– Put your poem on your blog and link back to this post.
– Link it up to our Mr. Linky.
– Visit other blogs. Enjoy some amazing poets. Comment. Come back later this week and write another one, and visit some more. Comment some more. Create as many poem clouds as you please. I’ll be reading all week.

Lively: A Lune

Luna’s lively glow
calms down my
longing, lonely soul.

Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to OctPoWriMo 2016 by Morgan Dragonwillow‘s Day 11.

Lune is an American invented form in 3 lines. It provides 2 options. The lines can either be measured by syllables or words. I found this at Instant Poetry Forms

The Lune is:

  • a poem in 3 lines.
  • measured either by 5-3-5 syllables per line or 5-3-5 words per line.
  • unrhymed.

Tantalizing: A Tanaga

Tantalizing speaking eyes, serve as windows.
Reveals unspoken letters, mouth always swallows.
Mine’s made of transparent glass, why it failed to show?
My hunching, hiding being, we, humans call soul?

Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to OctPoWriMo 2016 by Morgan Dragonwillow‘s Day 6.

The Tanaga is a Filipino stanzaic form that was originally written in Tagolog which to my ear is one of the more musical of languages. (Kumusta ka? Mabuti salam at) The form dates back to the 16th century and has an oral tradition. The poems are not titled. Each is emotionally charged and asks a question that begs an anwer. This form was found at Kaleidoscope.

The Tanaga is:

  • stanzaic, written in any number of quatrains.
  • syllabic, 7-7-7-7 syllables per line.
  • rhymed, originally aaaa bbbb cccc etc., modern Tanagas also use aabb ccdd etc or abba cddc etc or any combination rhyme can be used.
  • composed with the liberal use of metaphor.
  • Untitled.

Time’s Sparkling Void

I thought the turning time
can successfully erase traces
of the sparkling, beating void
your goodbye left inside my tattered soul.
A decade after, it becomes clear.
I am wrong.

Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to OctPoWriMo 2016 by Morgan Dragonwillow‘s Day 1, 2 and 3.

P.S. I combined the first three prompts because I was late. 😦 Forgive me. ❤

Am I Gone?

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.

04.08.2016
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash

Blue Hole

Basked in between
the cerulean sky
and the silent sea of bluebells,
my soul is silently sinking ‘neath
the hole of void and blue,
as my aqua eyes search
for you.

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

Photo credit: Unsplash


 

In response to dVerse‘s Poetics:Breathing Blue by De of WhimyGhizmo. Read her own blue-inspired poem here.

dverse

Just a reminder that there is always something beautiful to look at. Sometimes you need only look up.

For this week’s Poetics, I want you to do just that: look up, breathe in some blue, and breathe out a poem. Ponder the hue itself (indigo, turquoise, cerulean, cobalt, aquamarine, sapphire, azure, slate) for a bit, then write. Or listen to some blues, and write us some sadness. Or if you’ve got those late-summertime-can’t-seem-to-write blues, tell us about it – in poem form.

Have Your Ever

photo-1459427601922-b0701209fb27

Have you ever felt like a cold stone diving into a chilling tears-made ocean but no one’s noticing?

Have you ever felt like a tight-tied tongue begging to spit words that stung?

Have your ever felt like a hollow shell slowly sinking in sand but no one’s seeing its fading, waving hand?

Have you ever felt like a dried leaf flying helplessly without any chance of rescue from its mother tree?

Have you ever felt like a rain cloud begging to burst all its water because it felt too heavy but it has to bear it until its the right time to bid adieu?

I think I do.

Photo credit: Unsplash