fogged up

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While the roof sings to the tune of the monsoon keys, the leaves outside dance with the storm’s cold breeze, with a warm, fresh cup of coffee, my eyes stare blankly at the road void of wheels and feet— empty— wishing I can say the same with my mind.

The antonym of empty is full yet my thoughts are spilling and brimming a gusty storm of fear, uncertainty.

Today, a rejection letter opened the can of insecurity I thought I have kept locked tightly.

Perhaps, I’ll let the fog sits comfortably on the glass window, and inside my troubled mind.

Word count: 100
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: wildverbs

For FFfAW 182nd by PJ! 😊

Colored Strangers

While I was walking home,
someone called my name.
A genderless body
wearing a sunny smile,
a mist-kissed scent,
and a sunset orange glow.

“Hello, my name is love.
I know I might be hard.
But would you come
with me, tonight?”

Before my surprised tongue
could let a word roll out,
another face came,
wearing the blanket of
a pitch black night,
and the smoke of
a melting rubber
on its upward flight.

“Hey, I am hate.
No, don’t hesitate.
I am an easier
company, mate.”

My unsure feet
step back, one…
and then two…
Inhale and exhale,
my choice is due.

I’d rather be fried
under a sun angry
with love,
than sip
whiskey under
a calm moon
without love.

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


For dVerse Unseen Things.

Paired or Not

We are made with working pairs. Your right hand got your left. Your left ear got your right. Your right eye got your left. Your left lung got your right.

We work with built-in pairs. A scissor will never be a scissor, it should be scissors even when added with the phrase “a pair”. Trousers or some called jeans will never be a trouser nor a jean, for the right leg needs the left leg, always.

But we are from a single cell. We are run but one mind. We live with a uni-heart. We are made by one God.

In nights like this, when the clock struck past 12 midnight and you have no one but yourself, you will learn best:

with a pair, or without, your home, your only home, is nowhere but inside

you.

 

08.02.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

Lost Lavender

Forgive me, my creator
but I feel you are a traitor,
for painting me with friendly color
and gifting me with healing odor,
but letting me be a protector
of a poisonous aggressor.

In this human court
judging me physically,
my defense is my fragrant grace,
and my pale petals’ serenity,
yet the prosecution argues
I am a symbol of distrust only—
my soft stalks cloaked in fallacy
is the home of fangs so deadly.

In between this irony,
who am I really?
I guess you have to tell me,
your humans are too divided,
I can’t trust them, I’m sorry.

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

Inspiration is the Lavender
Lavender
Serenity, Grace, Calmness,Distrust*
*Primary sentiment for “lavender” is based in the superstition that poisonous asps live under
lavender plants; therefore, “distrust” lavender plants. This is probably the most extreme example of a flower sentiment that is not really associated the actual flower blossom.
In response to dVerse The Language of Flowers

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!

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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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

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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!

my sun

My love affair with words and rhymes started when I was a kid. I used to win slogan making contests, I used to sing songs with rhyming lyrics. Then I came across William Wordsworth’s “Daffodils”— the first seed of poetry planted inside me. Though my writing heart like Wordsworth’s cloud, wandered far and long. Aside from love notes in rhyming stanzas, I don’t really know much about poems. Then in 2015, I stumbled upon WordPress Poetry 101. With skilled and experienced poets I felt like a child on her first day in kindergarten. Clueless. Intimidated. Yet, deep inside determined.

After a few tries with rhymes and forms, the first haiku, the first sonnet, the first tanka, and then more free verses, I found the rhythm of my pen. Slowly, I befriended the beating ink flowing inside me, ever since. I found my soul’s oxygen. I started breathing again.

Here comes summer rays,
parting the veil of winter.
Poetry, my sun.

03.20.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to dVerse Haibun Monday: Who? What? Why?