I write because I read. I read because I write.
Afternoon sky, here, wears a cordial blue,a few white clouds soft glide 'bove gentle air.Even plane passengers can't smell the stewof far flung blood and sweat in missiles' lair.It is quite weird to seat and brush my hairwhen someone's head, afar, turns red in flame.If I sip my coffee, do I not carefor lives disturbed… Continue reading sunflowers aflame: a decuain*
No apologies, no regrets, not a single sorry, from the old mouth of the last man standing from the crew who ended the second world war. Japan started the conflict, that was how the US closed it— with two exploding periods. Periods that bent the knees of the Land of the Rising Sun. Periods that… Continue reading Fading Periods
Bombs, blasting or inhaled. Lives, culprits or innocent. Leaders, liars or prophets. World, what happened? — 03.23.2018 ©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via Unsplash In response to Blogging from A to Z Challenge and NaPoWriMo 2018. N is for Naani. The Naani is a stanzaic form found at Shadow Poetry and is most often an observation of human relations… Continue reading what happened? (a naani)
More shots fired, bang! bang! Another mug overflowed with blood, blood. Blood from veins of the innocents. Veins pulsing, asking, why oh why, again? Till when, oh please, till when? Who turned on the faucet of this intoxicating hate? How many pills of love, should the orphaned earth take to end this bloody hangover? —… Continue reading B l o o d y H a n g o v e r
Dusting gun powders, digging buried bomb shrapnels, dark road of hate clears. — 12.28.2017 ©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo by Manu Sanchez via Unsplash In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week 100!!! (Oh how I miss three-lining! 😀
boom! crumbles the church the city prayed. bang! rings the house of an old friend. boom! explodes a truck, bodies sprayed. bang! runs peace, hope, in a rushed parade. between the booms, bangs i plead above let this bad dream be cursed and damned. — This is a fictional poem inspired by the still unending… Continue reading booms and bangs
Take my hand and theirs regardless of religion or race. We are all earth's only heirs with limited time and space. Let's make a burning bridge made of united hands and hearts to cross and conquer the sea of hate killing humanity and love. — 01.31.2017 ©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo credit: Painting by… Continue reading Handmade Bridge
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… Continue reading Plea to Mourn
Rugged hands inked with brave symbols--- dark icons that make innocent heart trembles. None knows they hide war's one broken, tattered soul. — ©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo credit: Alex Hockett In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week Thirty-One. If you want to join, here are the simple rules: Write three… Continue reading Tattooed and Tattered
The Heart You Left Our children, our great grandchildren, and our great great grand-kids wanted to have a big centenarian birthday bash for me. I refused. I am too old for a party. I can’t even do jiggly jives any more. All I want for my 100th birthday is to be with you. That’s why… Continue reading The Heart You Left
A Reading Writer 