Lips-made Poetry

The growling, glaring velvet sky is angry, as if it’s sharp lighting and loud thunder can stop you and me from etching our bodies with lips-made poetry. — ©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo credit: Breno Machado In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week Twenty-Nine. If you want to join, here…

The Painter

It's as if no one's breathing, as if the clock stopped ticking, as the white cloth draped around the statue slowly unveils my painted carabaos. Cheers roar, claps chatter, tears fall, it has only been three months since this town was wreaked havoc by the strongest typhoon ever recorded. Million-worth of homes destroyed, dozens of…

The Stream

How beautiful. Gently rushing, lightly kissing chunks of boulders you passed. How calm. Silently whispering, softly creating ripples and plopping sounds.   If you stayed that beautiful that night, my family and I would not be homeless. If your shy waters remained calmed and your current remained consistent, undisturbed, our community wont be in this…

Rainbow

Rains, especially downpours with scream-like thunders and sharp-like-knife lightnings, for me, are bad omens. That’s why when I saw the bright cloud shifts from blue to violet to black, my hands started shaking, my heartbeats began racing. I have no beautiful memory with wet season, I only have the stark opposite. A catastrophic over-300-kph typhoon…