s a n c t u a r y

Clothed pair of soles
dressed in faux leather top
and synthetic rubber pants,

clanking, clanking,
against the cobbled,
sometimes cemented
concrete jungle paths,

dreams to be
bare and naked
against the foliage
of the fallen petals
of Autumn trees,

ready and brave
to be pricked with
the crisp and thin
sun-dried twigs,

for the slave feet of the city
yearns to be the lost queen
of the wild—

the sanctuary
of the soul’s respite.

05.02.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to dVerse Let’s Get Wild!
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bosom (a conachlonn)

Pain swells in the bosom of a song.
Long before the first note of refrain,
restrains fail to cease tears from falling.
Losing you, I wish will be my gain.

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.
C is for Conachlonn.
The Conachlonn is simply the Irish version of chained verse, examples found at Celtia.
The elements of the Conachlonn are:
  1. written in any number of lines.
  2. syllabic at the poet’s discretion, often 8 or 9 syllable lines
  3. assonant chained rhymed, meaning the vowel sound of the last syllable of the line is repeated at the beginning of the next line.
  4. written with dunadh, the beginning syllable ends the poem.

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tick tock (a butterfly cinquain)

It takes
many tick tocks
before your wings open,
to taste its first lick of earth’s wind
before
your lightweight feathers kiss earth’s breeze
While the clock is singing
learn patience in
waiting.

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.
B is for Butterfly Cinquain.
Butterfly Cinquain isn’t a cinquain at all:it is a nonostich (9 lines)and uses the syllable count of the Crapsey Cinquain and then reverses it, therefore the misnomer.  The elements of the Butterfly Cinquain are:
  1. 9 line poem.
  2. syllabic, 2-4-6-8-2-8-6-4-2 syllables per line.
  3. unrhymed.

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again (an aubade)

My clingy heart
has never been fond
of the dawn’s pending fog
everyday sitting
outside our window,
drinking its daily
sunrays-made tea
as it waits
for the official ending
of our last night’s
nectar-sweet tryst.

Another day,
another sun,
I have to wait
for another moon
to inhale your scent

again.

03.23.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to Blogging from A to Z Challenge: A is for Aubade and NaPoWriMo 2018.
Alba or Aubade are:
  1. a love poem, most often mourning the parting of lovers while extolling the coming day.
  2. constructed at the discretion of the poet, length, stanzaic form, meter and or rhyme. although often a smattering of rhyme is present without any particular rhyme scheme.
  3. dramatic since it is often dialogue between the parting lovers or coming from a cuckold husband or a watchman’ warning. Sometimes dialogue is silent, expressed in images.

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hatch

egg out of
your hard-outside,
fragile-inside,
self-made
shell of hate,

hardened by
society’s caging
cruel words
of unbelief.
crack the

calcium carbonate
crystal, with
each drumming of
your tired yet

unrelenting heart,
create a freeing hole
of hope. welcome
the sunrays of faith.

hatch.

03.27.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to dVerse Quadrille #53 – Egg

#NaPoWriMo and #AtoZChallenge

napofeature1

Happy Monday, everyone! I’m thrilled to announce that I just registered to NaPoWriMo 2018 via http://www.napowrimo.net/ ! 😀

I did NaPoWriMo successfully last 2016 and I’m excited for this year because… I’m doing #NaPoWriMo with Blogging from A to Z Challenge (I did this first last 2016, too!)!

 

So what do I mean? I’ll have 26 poetry form, one form per letter. (For example, A is for Aubade, B is for Bop…)

And I’ll be more than happy if you’ll come and join me! 😀

I’ll be posting the forms soonest! 😉

Cheers for a poetry-filled April, poets and friends!

bone and brain

Unbreakable bone
walled with
collagen and calcium,
ounce for ounce is
stronger than
a bar of steel.

Soft yet complex brain
tangled with
circuits of neurons
and nerves, byte per byte is
better than
a super computer.

Your anatomy is divine.
You’re not a super hero.
You’re a super human.

03.14.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to dVerse Super me! (as in the verb)

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! 😀

for your information

kick me out
of your life
yes, you can.

kick me out
of my own love,
oh, you just can’t.

i am locked,
chained, tethered,
inside the cave
of my self-sufficient
heart.

it’ll beat
with a thump,
with a thump,
with you
or without.

11.07.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to dVerse Quadrille#44 by whimsygizmo.
dverse

what if?

as death is as normal as birth,
one day my ink will meet
its fading the end.
what if this poem is my last?
what if? what if?
what last lines would i want to leave?
what if? what if?
what final rhymes would i want to breathe?
what if? what if?

would i want to write
a heartfelt villanelle
to glorify the God
who made me well,
to thank the imperfect
yet loving parents
who compensated money with
their love and presence?

would i want to write
a throbbing aubade
to the he’s whom
i have loved?
fill every stanza
with bitter farewells
and warm kisses
they have forever missed out?

would i want to leave
a sweet, sweet sonnet
to the one man
who’ll have me last,
stamp every rhyme
and every line
with the promise of meeting again
inside heaven’s confines?

or would i want to leave
a freely flowing free verse,
about a life well lived
in better and in worse,
etch my last words
with gratefulness
and contentment,
for either way, i’m blessed.

what if this poem is my last?
i think i would be smiling if
this poem would be my parting gift
to those who have loved me
and i have loved unconditionally.

if this is the end for me and my poetry,
then i will park my pen,
beside my final lines and rhymes,
and then, rest peacefully.

08.02.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

sneaked in some time to post this poem after my looong hiatus. the lines:

what if this poem is my last?
what if? what if?
what last lines would i want to leave?
what if? what if?
what final rhymes would i want to breathe?
what if? what if?

are inspired by a poem by Davy D. i have a big event (at work) tomorrow and i dropped by to tell you all guys that I miss WordPress because of you all. as soon work calms a bit, i’ll go back. ❤ please don’t forget me. 🙂 Much love!


In response to The End paul scribbles.
This evening I want you to think about ‘THE END.’
dverse