w i n t e r g u m s

Cold against the bare skin
of warm, deep-lined palm,

colder like a December midnight
against the tastebuds of tongue.

Brick-hard on top of a hand—
so fragile and so soft.

Sweet, chewy ‘side the calcium cave
with teeth-made loft.

Perhaps, humans are winter gums—
sugar-coated, guarded, armored
at first glance,

melting, undressing, when inside
a found home with sincere,
summer warmth.

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

For dVerse Mindfulness and Poetry.
Here is the gum I held to birth this poem. 🙂

2018-09-26 12.51.43 1.jpg


stubborn: a senryu duet

Stubborn thoughts surface
refusing to hibernate
in winter’s cold breast.

Mind’s cotyledons
cracking the thick bed of snow
‘fore the first spring bloom.

F.T. Ledrew x R. C. Gonzales

(Remember Thomas, friends and poets? 😀 Who missed him like I did?! Raise your hands! 😀
P.S. Thank you for this first collab, Thomas! ;))

All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

mummed magic

the scarlet leaf
of the almost bare autumn tree,
s  l  o  w  l  y , ever s  l  o  w  l  y ,
from its home twig
to its grave earth.

the crystal snowflake
of the heavy, winter cloud
g e n t l y , ever g e n t l y ,
from its throne in heaven
to its melting ground.

the brave sprout
of the fresh, spring seed
s o f t l y , ever s o f t l y ,
its cotyledons’ cave
towards the sky’s bright, open shade.

the soft, infant rays
of the smiling, summer sun
g e n t l y , ever g e n t l y,
into tiny sparkles of warmth
to kiss the waiting land.

these are earth’s mummed magic,
they need no noise to be majestic.

P.S. Is it evident that I fantasize about four seasons too much? 😀
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Matt Lewis on Unsplash

In response to Magic by Paul of paul scribbles.
So my poetic pals, your task if you choose to accept it, is to pen a poem using the word MAGIC in some form or write a piece that is quite simply MAGICAL. You know you can.

Dear Seasons

Like an elusive dream I silently hope to see how you undress—
from cold white to fresh green then to shy yellow and then to scarlet red,
from freckled to plump and lush to skinny and then to skeletal bare.

Like an enchanting perfume I secretly imagine your scent change—
from chilling trace of frost to charming whiff of blooming flowers
and then to sweet vibrant smell of the sun and finally to loamy, rustic earth aroma.

Like a locked desire I hope to bask my senses into your stunning metamorphosis,
my dear seasons.

Note: Living in a country with two seasons (wet and dry), autumn and winter have been my fascinations since I am a little girl. This is why they are mostly the inspirations of my poems and fictions. 😉
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to dVerse‘s Open Link Night # 182 by Bodhirose  who wrote about Florida’s Fall.



Cherry Lips

Our old cherry tree is pregnant again with its plump, bloody, cheerful fruits,
which always remind me of your red lips as soft as the sound of the flute—
until that wintry day came and turned them so blue and oh, so cold.

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

Photo credit: Inma Ibáñez 

I miss three-lining! ❤

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

Resurrected Warmth


Resurrected Warmth: A Wayra

Winter’s biting frost,
Arctic wind’s chilling whispers,
crawling, creeping, ‘tween us,
waking ev’ry bones, nerves,
resurrects warm bodies once dead.

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

Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to May Book Prompts –  by Sarah Doughty and MahWrites.

Today’s prompt is Warm Bodies (Warm Bodies, #1) by Isaac Marion.

Warm Bodies (Warm Bodies, #1)


  • a pentastich, a poem in 5 lines.
  • syllabic, 5-7-7-6-8
  • unrhymed.

Yearn: A Ya-Du


Yearn: A Ya-Du
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Chill starts the year
harbinger’s breeze
winter’s here to
comfort your heart,
freeze the pieces torn apart.

Let cold build back
your heart’s track to
attract and feel
it’s once hot fire
ready for spring’s fresh desire.

Photo credit: Natasha Vasiljeva

In response to Blogging from A to Z ChallengeY is for Ya-Du

Ya Du

The Ya-Du or ritú (season) is stanzaic form dedicated to the seasons. The theme should express the emotions the seasons evoke. The form is a 15th century Burmese pattern using a climbing rhyme.

The Ya-Du is:

  • syllabic. L1-L4 tetrasyllabic (4) and L5 may be 5,7, 9, or 11 syllables. 4-4-4-4-(5,7,9, or 11)
  • stanzaic, written in no more than 3 cinquains.
  • rhymed. The form employs a climbing rhyme in which the 4th syllable of L1 rhymes with the 3rd syllable of L2 and the 2nd syllable of L3. L4 and L5 end rhyme.
  • dedicated to the seasons and the emotions they evoke.

    x x x a
    x x a x
    x a x x
    x x x b
    x x x x b or x x x x x x b etc

Missed a letter/poem? Read all Poetry from A-Z here.

Winter’s Dance*


Winter’s Dance*

*A collaboration with my Queen of Sonnets,who I consider a dear friend,  Melinda Kucsera of In Media Res.

Melinda, an eloquent poetess and a gifted fantasy writer, is the author of epic fantasy adventure Stars and Angel Sing. Visit her blog and take a thrilling journey as she takes you to the enchanted world of Shayari.

Winter’s Dance

Barren land blanketed with brilliant white
Sparkling ice crusts  all dripping icicles
Bare twigs displays stalactites, stalagmites
All part of the season’s endless cycles
Winter land’s fresh page is like a clean slate
Covering up Autumn’s leafy decay
With crystalline frost Arctic winds create
Blowing snow drifts that fly over the quay
Flushed cheeks, reddened ears, blue-tinged lips, freezing
As I turn figure eights ‘round the iced lake
Teeth chatter as frostbites come with cold seeping
But I spin and ice dance without a break
In sync with the whispers of frost, I twirl
Letting go of all my cares as I whirl.

Image Credit: Pixabay

My deepest thanks to you, Mel!
It is always an honour to share
a single pen with you.
Now I know how to write sonnets,
and it’s because of you! 

Hiems: A Haiku


Hiems: A Haiku
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Below zero temp
creates clear white stalactites
sparkling stalagmites.

Photo credit: F.T. Ledrew of Hook, Line and Inkwell
(Thank you, my friend! <3)

In response to Blogging from A to Z Challenge: H is for Haiku


Haiku is:

  • syllabic (17 syllables or less)
  • an imagist poem (draws the emotion from the image). Concrete images are described. It is important in haiku to deemphasize the ego. The subject, not the poet is what focuses the haiku. “One of the most common characteristics of haiku,. . . . is silence.” Bruce Ross. The words silence or stillness can be used in haiku, but it is the concrete image as described that makes the reader respond to the feeling of silence.
  • written in the moment. The past can be referred to as long as it doesn’t overpower the present.
  • one of two forms “traditional” or “modern”
    • traditional requires a season be named and images and emotions be drawn from of nature.
    • modern can be images of relationship, personality, experience, etc
  • often a tristich, commonly written in 3 lines. BUT, it can be written in 1 or 2 lines. (if not broken into 3 lines, the haiku should still follow the pattern of 3 units, 2 images that either conflict or expand resulting in insight.) The common break down of syllables:
    • L1 5 syllables describes image (traditional name season)
    • L2 7 syllables, adds conflicting image or expands first image
    • L3 5 syllables provide insight (the ah ha! moment) through a juxtaposed image.

Missed a letter/poem? Read all Poetry from A-Z here.

WRITING 101: Seasons

My soul still search for you.

For five long years, I was able to avoid this street. I was able to erase this area. I wanted to avoid you. I wanted to avoid us.

Until my car stopped. It ceased to move, for reasons I don’t know. I guess it brought me here. To the corner we call our own.

Winter, spring, summer and fall, this bench was ours.

It was a cold December night when you find me in this corner. I said my name, you said yours.

It was a blooming April morning when you asked me to be yours. Of course, I said yes.

It was a hot yet so bright July afternoon when you gave me that ring. I said I love you and you said you do, too.

I waited for you on that fateful day of October. I can vividly smell the earth-scents and feel the sky-winds as I saw you walk towards me.

I thought it was you. But it wasn’t you. I thought you will come for me. But instead, I went to see you. I waited for you on our corner. But you didn’t wait for me. It’s humidly autumn, but you laid still, chillingly frozen.

“Enough,” I said to myself.

I went back to my car because I cannot stand to be in this corner anymore.

I ran, then stopped abruptly when I saw my bloody self inside my crushed car.

Yay! This is the first time in so many years that I crafted a fictional very-short story and this feels great!

This post is inspired by Blogging University’s WRITING 101 Day 4 assignment. 

Day 4: A story in a single image

Yesterday, you found inspiration in one word and used it as a springboard for a post idea. Images — including photographs and works of art — can also act as starting points for stories, essays, poems, and personal musings. For this exercise, use one of the images above as the creative spark for today’s post. You might use it as the setting for a story or poem, write about how it makes you feel, or describe a memory conjured by it.

NOTE: This story has already a second part. Seasons Part II.

Please share your thoughts.

I highly value your comments, fellow bloggers. 🙂