Fading Periods

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 marked how ending wars could be done.

Fading is the warning of the first nuke’s gravity. There might be more to come, oh, we’ll see. From one bloodshed to another, I wonder when will human lives weigh more than a bloody war.

A fragile new bud
tries to crack leftover snow—
men kill to survive.

08.03.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

Inspired by this article.
For dVerse Haibun Monday — Peace Memorial.

 

what happened? (a naani)

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 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 Naani are:
  1. stanzaic, written in any number of quatrains.
  2. syllabic, with a total syllable count of between 20 and 25 syllables.

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B l o o d y H a n g o v e r

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?

Author’s Note: The prompt today was about “drinking”. And because I don’t drink (alcoholic drinks, or even wines, never had, never will :D), these lines leaked just like that.

For the lives ended by war, violence, depression, hate, this is my futile attempt to write an elegy for you.

Guns don’t kill people. People kill people. It’s one sad truth we witness every single day.

02.21.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to dVerse This one’s on me.
dverse

getting there: a senryu for TLT

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! 😀

booms and bangs

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 war in Marawi, the only Islamic city in the Philippines. I can never fathom the reasons of these groups in killing not just lives but the hopes, the future of the children left clueless and helpless in the middle of this war. May peace blossom again in this corner of my country.

08.15.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Quadrille #38 by whimsygizmo.

Today, I want us to DREAM together.

Handmade Bridge

New Beginnings by Ally Saunders

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 Ally Saunders available at her website.

In response to dVerse‘s Poetics: Ally Saunders – A Closer Look by Mish.
Fellow dVerse Poets, your prompt today is to take a closer look at Alley’s collection featured within the post OR from her website. Look within yourself, find your own interpretation and write a poem. When using an image of Ally’s work, please remember to credit it properly with her name and a link to her website, allyart.ca

dverse

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‘.

Tattooed and Tattered

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 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.

The Heart You Left

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 we’re all here.

While our children’s eyes admire the grandiose Dôme des Invalides’ ceiling, I slowly closed mine and let my soul feel the dead heart you left— interred inside the vaults of Les Invades.

Time was not able to take my pain away. I still long for your body, your probably-mutilated-body left undiscovered. Most of all, I still wish your heart is still beating with mine today.

Word count: 120

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

Photo credit: TJ Paris


NOTE: This is a work of fiction inspired by a non-fiction detail. There are real tombs and vaults in Les Invalides. While the most notable is Napoleon Bonaparte’s remain, there are French soldiers, now considered military heroes, whose only their hearts’ remains lie inside Les Invalides’ vaults.

In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) May 24, 2016.

Rules:

  • a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less)
  • each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end
  • no serial (continuation) stories
  • include a pingback to the challenge post

Thank you for the breathtaking prompt, Priceless Joy! ❤ 

Read more short stories here:

Love-Sealed Letters

Love-Sealed Letters

War took you from my arms to battle field,
you remained through your letters kiss-and-love-sealed,
until they stopped arriving.

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

Photo credit: Kirsty TG 


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

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.