our shining moment: a haibun


A few days before this moment, online weather forecast reported not just rainfall but a thunderstorm. More than half of June was eaten by the summer sun, it should not be surprising if the Philippines’ monsoon is here to take its part of the pie. Still, palm to palm, my love and I send whispers every night before this day, asking for some sunshine.

I was not able to sleep that night, not because of nerves but because the camera crew and the makeup team have started to arrive as early as 2 o’clock in the morning. With surprise sighs, I watched the queen burning ball leaving its slumber, at 6 o’clock it has reached its full glory.

As my feet walk on the sand-aisle lined with baby’s breaths and asters, there were summer birds singing, some gentle waves crashing, but my favourite thing was his eyes, his Indian eyes, wet but smiling while waiting for me to reach him. I thank God for him, for this moment free of thunder and lightning.

Two lips utter vows
with glittered sea as witness—
tall, palm trees giggle.

©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
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For dVerse Traditional writing – on a shining topic! 


wish come true

You are asking why
I haven’t been writing
lately about love,
well, it’s because

you do not utter
a wish every night
once you can already
hold it with your

bare hands. So why

I haven’t been
writing about love
it’s because I
already have


r. c. gonzales – roy | page 138 of Poems for S
Sharing with you some excerpts of my poetry book, Poems for S!
Kindle and paperback available here: https://amzn.to/379k2Qd

Mockup for Facebook image_v2

©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo is mine

excerpt 1: the vow

I remember how your photos would spark the poet in me, how your shots are like muses that breathed life to my poetry. How you sprinkled my poems with your kind words, generously.

How in each exchange of message I’ve got to know the man behind the camera, the man so composed and so inspiring, and the hiding inside a shell, truthfully hungry for love but acting like it is the last thing he needed.

r. c. gonzales – roy | page 139 of Poems for S
Sharing with you some excerpts of my upcoming book, Poems for S!
Pre-order available here: https://amzn.to/2CSrGAU .

Mockup for Facebook image_v2

©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash


Feet floating on
notes of a love song
we call ours,

with blooms of
baby’s breath tuck
in between my
dark hair strands,

each step I make
will lead me towards

the end of my life;
the start of ours.

Take my hand,
it’s now all yours, my love.

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

Gift of Vow

We are like north and south,
light and dark,
sweet and sour,
moon and sun.

Until our opposite worlds
were united by love,
a relationship was made,
inside God’s hands.

A journey
with rough patches,
taught us
acceptance and forgiveness.

Through His words
we’re blessed to be here.
After fervent prayers,
our life together is now near.

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

Note: That gorgeous photo shows my best friend Ericka and her husband Mark who exchanged the gift of vows just last Saturday! 🙂

The poem is a piece I wrote for them for their wedding invitation. 🙂

In response to Monday Morning Melts #6: Humbug by Owl City. This is a prompt I am co-hosting with my dear friend Jade! ❤


The Bridesmaid’s Secret

Caressing  pure, pristine petals as she swings up and down.
Later these will be showered to her best friend wearing her dream white wedding gown.
None knows she carries the first child, the grinning groom wants to hide.

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

In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week Thirty-Seven.

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.

Odd Choice

The yellow car was welcomed by the flock of frowning, peeking humans waiting inside the old church.

This occasion is usually painted in pure white, a contrast to the auto parked in front of the door that’s just very bright.

But the bride seated inside is as jolly as the color of the sun, so she picked a car that looked oh so fun!

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

In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week Thirty-Four.

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 Empty Box


If his hand is a tiled floor, a lot would accidentally fall.

“Chill, love.” I assured him Dad will be delighted to know her first princess is finally engaged. But his hand, which gripped mine nervously, is so wet with his sweat.

“So what’s the big news?”Dad asked as he take his seat.

“Sir. Uhm, I asked your lovely daughter to marry me —.”

“And I said yes, dad!” I said with delight as I showed him the empty crystal magenta box.

He eyed the box before looking at the diamond ring enthroned proudly in my finger.

“Well, congratulations. Just be cautious you two. Sometimes, the most beautiful packages are actually just empty shells. Grand engagements and weddings are not reliable foundations of marriage. Love is. Trust is. Communication is.”

Word count: 130
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: My dear friend Jade Wong

In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) September 13, 2016.


  • 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 hosting this awesome prompt, Priceless Joy! ❤ 

Read more short stories here:

Quite Like You: A Song-based Fiction

Makeup, done. White dress, check. I’m ready.

“Bye mom! Bye Dad!” I said as I went out of our house.

I checked my phone for his message. None, yet.

Suddenly, a black BMW stopped in front of me. Out came three muscular men, rushing, dressed in rugged black shirts, covered with black shades.

“Don’t scream,” the man with a gun whispered.

I’m too stunned to react. My eyes were covered, my arms were tied, before they pushed me inside the car. The silence is piercing. I want to shout, I want to fight, but I know it will be useless.

My mind’s rushing, my heart’s beating fast. Afraid. Confused. I tried to calm down but my tensed brain cells can’t. I am on the verge of tears when the car finally screeched to a stop.

“Let’s go,” a man’s voice said softly but with authority.

I followed. Holding my arm, the man lead me to a concrete stair.

I climbed up. First, second, third until the ninth step.

Breathe in. Breathe out. I felt weak. I felt defeated.

“Walk,” he whispered.

Step, and then another, and then another.

“Stop!” he shouted.

I remained still, as I felt my knees getting weak. I was about to fall when someone pulled me up. “Stand up, and walk,” he commanded while he removed the ropes in my wrists and the black cloth that covers my eyes.

My eyes, now with tears so close, adjusted slowly to the almost unlit place.

I bowed down, and saw the words.

Words on the black carpet, written with white lights.

I think I want you more than want
And know I need you more than need
I wanna hold you more than hold
When you stood in front of me

“Insane,” I whispered as I felt goosebumps crawl in me. I almost run out but I can see the shadows of the men who brought me here. Reluctantly, I continue, more words lit up as I do.

I think you know me more than know
And you see me more than see
I could die now more than die
Every time you look at me

My knees are now weak with fear. Only a psychotic stalker can pull this off. That I know for sure. Shaking, I continue walking.

When it’s right it’s more than right
Cause you feel it more than feel
I could take this moment now
Right into the grave with me

It finally hit me. “I knew this song! I knew this!” My steps are now faster, and the letters made of lights are now in full speed, too.

In your eyes oh in your eyes
In our hearts yeah in our hearts
Sometimes words just ain’t enough
For this love that’s more than love

I stopped and steadied myself. Breathe.

I walked with tears, with fast heartbeats, and with unclear mind.

Well I’ve seen you in jeans with no make-up on
And I’ve stood there in awe as your date for the prom

Now it’s clear. I sobbed seconds before I finally hear his voice.

“I’m blessed as a man to have seen you in white
But I’ve never seen anything quite like you tonight.”

Spotlights were opened, and I saw him. Candles were lit, and I saw the long black carpet that I walked in. I heard sobs that aren’t from me anymore.

More lights were opened and I saw my dad, my mom, my family, and his, too. I saw our friends, all in tears. They are all in black, while the flowers that surrounded me are all in white, like my dress.

“What the hell is this?” I said as I walk towards him. He just smiled and said…

No, I’ve never seen anything quite like you tonight.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash


Inspired by: The Script’s – Never Seen Anything “Quite Like You”

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.



Scream. Sirens. Blood.

There’s no more yellow bus.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

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