Between My Bleeding Lines’ Readers: Jade M. Wong

An Elegy For Them

thomas-griesbeck-149034

This poem…

Is for the child
Sprinting through the crimson streets
Tripping over the last breaths
Of her father

For the mother
Protecting her babies’ ears
From the piercing shrieks that echo
Long after the ashes settle

For the thousands of eyes
That look to the sky
Through acid and smoke
And never look back down.

© Jade M. Wong 2017


Meet BETWEEN MY BLEEDING LINES’ beta-readers: @jademwong.

A dear friend for over 2 years now, Jade is a writer who can break, melt or enchant your heart all at the same time. Her gift in weaving words (plus yummy food photos and intereting trinkets) are on her amazing gallery (and you got to check her out). 😁

It is my delight to have her as one of the first eyes to read my debut book. Jade suggested major changes on the sequence of the poem and it really made an awesome difference.

So dearie, thank you for your expert eyes and of course, for the super going strong frienship! Much love.

(As the release of my BETWEEN MY BLEEDING LINES nears (this month!), I would like to feature the amazing writers who guided me (technically and morally) all through out this nine-month journey. I am blessed to have them.)
Advertisements

Nature’s Calling: A Naani

If grief’s a black smoke
we’ll all be blind now.
Killings, murders, hate
are they nature’s calling?
Or we’re just all fan of dying?

Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to OctPoWriMo 2016 by Morgan Dragonwillow‘s Day 21.

The Naani is a stanzaic form found at Shadow Poetry and is most often an observation of human relations or current events although it can be open to any subject. Naani means “an expression of one and all”. The stanza form was introduced by Dr. N. Gopi an administrator at the Teluga University.

The defining features of the Naani are:

  • stanzaic, written in any number of quatrains.
  • syllabic, with a total syllable count of between 20 and 25 syllables.

Plea to Mourn

Mourn.

For all souls lost.
Either shot or blown apart,
either criminal or civilian,
either innocent or terrorist,
’cause they’re all humans.

Mourn.

For all lives altered by war.
Children who grow old without parents.
Parents who buried their own child.
Fiancee who was not able to say ‘I do’.
Soldiers who were not able to know what’s true.

Mourn.

Because mourning makes you care,
because mourning makes you realize,
that peace is really a must.

Mourn.

Because war is not a problem
solved by guns and bombs.
Because peace can only be achieved,
by no one else, but us.

Please, mourn.

01.28.2016
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit:Unsplash
Inspired by Maria’s fictional story ‘The Vow‘ and Christopher poem ‘Microsmic Murder‘.

Game Birds’ Hunters

640px-common_pheasant_hybride

We are the game birds.
Violence are our hunters.
Guns and armaments,
deliver brute, bloody deaths.
Men love killing each other.

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

In response to Elsie of Ramblings of a Writer’s Weekly Tanka Prompt Challenge – Week 11 – Game Birds.

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

  • Take the two words “Game Birds” and write a Tanka Poem.

  • Tanka consists of five units, usually with the following pattern of    5-7-5-7-7 which is syllables.

The Yellow Bus

My task is simple.

Determined, I walked towards the old yellow bus that will leave before 10 a.m.

I sit still. I need to focus. I have to stop thinking. Because I may have doubts.

——

We finally gave our final kisses.

This is not our last goodbye but I can’t stop the tears.

I ended our tight hug and finally let go of her.

She then finally went inside the yellow bus.

She will be leaving before 10 am to finally pick the dress that she will be wearing on our wedding day.

I would like to come with her but she refused.

She wanted it to be a surprise.

—–

I hate seeing people who kissed in public.

In my own country, we never do that. But here, I think it’s normal.

“Stop.” I tell myself.

I have to focus.

This yellow bus is leaving before 10 am.

I should leave earlier.

——-

I stayed waiting for her yellow bus to leave.

I stand and blow air kisses as she looked at me through the not-so-clear window.

I have no plans of letting go of her lovely brown eyes until a man with a blue cap bumped into me.

I looked at him, straight to his eyes.

He looked at me too.

But I stopped staring because 10 am is near, and my love will be leaving.

———

Finally, off I go.

I wanted to run. But I didn’t.

I walked briskly amid this busy city’s humidity.

I reached my final spot.

Far from what will happen.

But near enough to see the yellow bus.

I waited until…

———-

I waved unceasingly as the yellow bus went away.

I stopped when she cannot see me any more.

Until…

———

Scream. Sirens. Blood.

There’s no more yellow bus.

09.23.2015
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash
Originally written for Blogging University’s WRITING 101 Day 13 Assignment.

Nefarious

24

Nefarious: A Nonet*

The world is slowly dying, f-a-d-i-n-g
as grief’s black smoke covers beings,
billions soul d-i-e-s unwilling,
caused by all and nothing,
maybe humans just
love killing ‘til
earth ends with
nothing,
none.

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

Photo credit: Unsplash.com

Word Inspiration: Sarah Doughty of Heartstring Eulogies (Thank you, Sarah!)


*The Nonet is:

  • stanzaic, written in any number of 9 line stanzas.
  • syllabic, 9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 syllables per line.
  • usually unrhymed.

Thirty Seconds

Thirty Seconds

Thirty seconds that’s all he need to take his family away from this park. He told his wife and their little girl not to visit him today. He said his job will just take a few hours, but his hard-headed ladies didn’t listen.

23…22…21…

His mind’s ticking clock is now in panic mode. His sweaty, shaking palm can’t deny the dread he tried to suppress.

15… 14… 13…

“Move. Move. Move.” He said firmly as he pushed his wife and his daughter forward.

06…05…04…

“Dad, wait up, I forgot teddy on the cable car!!!”

Before he was able to grab her daughter’s arm, two loud booms rocked the hanging cabs and his entire being. He’s about to break into a run when his wife’s scream pierced his ears. Following her gaze, his eyes widen.

He regret what he did. He will never forgive himself. Never. Never.

Word count: 150

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

Photo credit: Sunday Photo Fiction


In response to Sunday Photo Fiction for May 15, 2016.

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly writing challenge hosted by Alastair Forbes where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction using around 200 words. The piece doesn’t have to center around exactly what the photo is, it can be just used as a basis for a story.

Enjoy more awesome stories here:

United

United colourful flags dance proudly with the wind.

Together they ‘ll fall for the coming unseen.

Kaboom here! Kaboom there! We’ll wipe them all clean!

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

Photo credit: Liam Desic


In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week Eight.

If you want to join (it’s not too late and it is surely fun), 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.

Monday Musings: Why humans kill each other?

Monday Musings

I was savoring my reading-in-bed-time last Saturday when my sister suddenly asked, “What’s with #PrayforParis?”

With today’s social media prevalence, news can now reach anyone at full speed. Gone were the days when you have to wait for snail mails to know that your fourth-generation cousin is getting married. Gone were the days when today’s news will be read tomorrow.

The Internet and the social media paved the way to reel time news with a worldwide reach.

After hearing my sister’s question, my instant reaction was fear. Probably, something bad happened in France because #Prayfor-something hashtag was used for several catastrophic events like when Typhoon Haiyan devastated the Philippines just last year.

The journalism-student in me then made a quick research and voila, I learned the tragic Friday night in Paris.

So today, inspired by the tragic terror attack, here are some wise words that I hope we can ponder this week:

Photo from: Mitch albom’s Facebook page

Quote from: The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto by Mitch Albom

The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto

The Paris terror attack left more than 130 fatalities and almost 200 injured.

I have no relatives in Paris, Philippines is actually so many miles away from Paris, but why do I care?

Why does my heart bleed for those innocent victims? Most of them are young, like me, with a helluva life ahead of them.

Why does people around the world mourn for the lives lost?

Why does a lot of people posted #PrayforParis?

Why does a lot of social media netizens changed their profile picture with the colors of France’s flag?

It’s simply because we are humans, and a life lost is a big lost itself. How much more if there are hundreds of them, killed, shot and bombed for no good reasons.

Why humans kill each other? I cannot provide an answer because I have more questions than answer.

War, terrorism they are all just beyond my comprehension.

Sadly, humans have been doing that since time immemorial.

When will wars end? How many more lives? 

I want to ask but… I know no one can give an answer.

kayecabal violence terrorism paris attacks