Effulgent

The pregnant tree has never dared to let a sunray pass through its leaf-filled twigs, until the witty wind let out a happy sigh that made the stubborn tree dance for a while.

As the branches swayed with the wind, the rays has finally reached the tree’s inner soul. It was then it realized how it needed some sun to fill its gloomy, hidden holes.

Now let me tell you, I am the tree and you are my sun. And I am glad that I let you in.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash, wocado.com

Word prompt: Melinda Kucsera of In Media Res (Thank you, dearest friend!)

 

 

Summer Choir

I still remember: the gentle rush of the calm yet humming cerulean ocean as it hugs the waiting sun-bathed sand and silent shells ashore; the sweet whisper of the whistling wind as it combs the golden grass strands who always beg for more; and then the loud yet soothing klee-ew sounds of the winged gulls flying freely above the expansive salted-water-made floor.

Our beating hearts sung
softly with that summer choir.
Do you remember?

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

Photo credit: Unsplash


In response to dVerse‘s Tuesday Poetics: The Sound of LOVE by Walter J. Wojtanik. Read his Whispers of Love, too.

dverse

Also for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie‘s Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille August 17th 2016 … a summer tale.

Velleitie

My fingers will never be enough to count how many times you whispered you love me most. Love me more than anyone in the world. Love me more than anything on earth.

How you want to have a home with white picket fence, where you and me and our four little kids will live with utmost happiness.

But then for ten long years of hearing your words, you’ve never climbed even the first step. Your dreams remain dreams, your words remain noises your tongue uttered.

I guess it’s now time to remove my cloak of hope. Maybe when I’m gone you can make your dreams more than a hope.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash, Tumblr

Word prompt: Melinda Kucsera of In Media Res (Thank you, dearest friend!)

 

The Jar’s Secret

A frail, pellucid, deformed, indistinct, cylindrical jar
towering above unkempt, blotchy, matte drawer
sits silently among empty, hollow bottles.
Inside hides the ashen remains
of your once iridescent, glistening soul,
I still remember how I carefully pour
after I watch you burn in whole.

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

Photo credit: Unsplash


In response to dVerse‘s Quadrille #114 by Björn Rudberg (brudberg). Read his own jar-inspired poem titled Pickled Summer.

dverse

Also for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie‘s Wordle Special Addition Sight “August 15th, 2016”.

Nixie

On her deathbed, my beloved grandma handed me the letter which she has kept since it was returned by the postman three months ago. I can recall that day because that’s the last day I saw her lively.

Old postman, as old as her, apologized for keeping the almost faded tattered letter. According to him, war has prohibited sending one, thus the very long delay, and he is too ashamed to return it to her, causing longer delay.

With tears brimming, grandma told me to look for the man who have been waiting for this letter for decades now.

Her weak hands wrote the time-erased address seconds before she went breathless— which signalled her life’s ending and the beginning of my journey of knowing if love is really enduring.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash, Tumblr

Word prompt: Melinda Kucsera of In Media Res (Thank you, dearest friend!)

 

Brontide

It took me so many years to find a mountain-home away from the seashore that holds our precious memories. It took me great effort and a sum of money to build this fortress that will protect me from your silent yet screaming ghost.

But when I encountered my first storm and I heard the whispers of the far-flung thunder, I figured I was wrong. Each brontide was stamped with the sweet sound of your sighs. Each grumble was sealed your voice’s hypnotizing sweet cries.

So my dear, please answer, where can I hide from you now?

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash, Tumblr

Word prompt: Melinda Kucsera of In Media Res (Thank you, dearest friend!)

Blue Hole

Basked in between
the cerulean sky
and the silent sea of bluebells,
my soul is silently sinking ‘neath
the hole of void and blue,
as my aqua eyes search
for you.

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

Photo credit: Unsplash


 

In response to dVerse‘s Poetics:Breathing Blue by De of WhimyGhizmo. Read her own blue-inspired poem here.

dverse

Just a reminder that there is always something beautiful to look at. Sometimes you need only look up.

For this week’s Poetics, I want you to do just that: look up, breathe in some blue, and breathe out a poem. Ponder the hue itself (indigo, turquoise, cerulean, cobalt, aquamarine, sapphire, azure, slate) for a bit, then write. Or listen to some blues, and write us some sadness. Or if you’ve got those late-summertime-can’t-seem-to-write blues, tell us about it – in poem form.

Rantipole

I have always been the good girl of the family.

With an alcoholic brother, weed-addicted older sister and party-goer baby sister, mom and dad almost always say I am their hope, their only hope.

I think I am until I saw you, talked to you, dated you, fallen for you.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash, Tumblr

Word prompt: Melinda Kucsera of In Media Res (Thank you, dearest friend!)

 

Unexpected Fall

I’m no hopeless romantic. My mind has always won over my heart, making it always realistic. I don’t look forward to forever. I choose to relish what I have today. I don’t believe in love at first sight. I believe love is a constant, daily fight. I never thought I would fall for you. Actually, I do not want to. I always dreamed of loving someone I barely knew. Someone that is not you.

But time, fate connived
like a tree’s last leaf, I fall.
Our story was born.

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

Photo credit: Unsplash


Back story: This is a non-fiction account of my own love life. 😀 My almost six-year boyfriend is actually a childhood friend. And… the haibun above says it all. ❤

In response to dVerse‘s Haibun Monday: A Little Romance by Toni of kanzen sakura. Read her own haibun here.

dverse

Hi!  Happy Haibun Monday to you all.  I hope you all have your heartsready to pen a romantic haibun.  I think we all have romance in common:  a first romance, unrequited, summer love, lost love, forever love…

You can write this easily.  Remember, a haibun is not a work of fiction, it is true.  So please share with us a romantic episode or time of your life.

Our romances are like a movie or the most mundane ordinary thing in the world.  I want you to please think and pull out your best romantic (or funniest or saddest) haibun ever.  Please give me one or two tight paragraphs with a true classic haiku at the end – nature based with a cutting or pivot in the second line.  The count will be 5-7-5 but some do write short-long-short.

Redamancy

When your own mother did not desire to love you as her own daughter, it becomes harder to believe that someone can love you forever.

Hence when men left me, my heart’s too numb to be bruised. Pain is really something my mind refused. Ever since I was that baby left outside an orphanage door, I have never expected for anything more.

After decades of embracing my single blessedness, I stumbled upon Him who some say can accept and love all my past mess.

It was then I was able to prove that there is indeed someone who can give the love you think you don’t deserve. He is just waiting for you to surrender all your anger-reserves.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash, Tumblr

Word prompt: Melinda Kucsera of In Media Res (Thank you, dearest friend!)