August 8, 2016 by Rose Booker

Where Trees Fall

Rich nutrients are locked away in fallen trees.
A treasure awaits release in fallen trees.

I harvest corpses: redwood, sycamore, pine, oak.
I cobble together tables from fallen trees.

Bay windows lined with birch watch the canopy wave.
An artificial forest without fallen trees.

Without coarse woody debris the cycle is halt-
edited out dried leaves, fungus spores, fallen trees.

Where trees fall, new growth, one life brings forth a thousand
a nebula, cradle, crafted from fallen trees.

Book Review of To Love As Aswang

On August 1, 2016, my review of To Love As Aswang appeared on the Halo-Halo Review.

To read that review, please click here.

To buy the book, please click here.

I adore this book. I am not saying this because I was asked to. To be honest, I asked to be a reviewer simply because I loved Diwata so much that I could not wait to read the next collection by Reyes.

By the by, I would like to announce that I am now taking book review requests. If there is a book you believe I or anyone should read, please provide a suggestion below. Thank you.

August 2, 2016 by Rose Booker

Dragon’s Den (Poem Draft)

A cave
a faint golden glow
a whale’s rib cage
captured in stone
arches above you
the gilded gleam
of a serpentine woman
watches you
watch her
her eyes
burning
you
whole

August 2, 2016 by Rose Booker

We Are Children

a tantrum
a fit
an explosion
of expression
from 2 years
of life
and I
breathe in
and out
in
and out
in
and
out
for you
and me

I will
your flame
to shorten
make it smaller
I demand
and yet
with each inhale
with each exhale
I wish to ignite
and flare out
with you
for we both
are tiny
specks of
cosmos
filled with
large
crashing atoms
and this
this responsibly
feels
to much to bare.

July 26, 2016 by Rose Booker

Om

I am the milky way staring at itself
from one limited vantage point.

Insignificantly significant
as a slight imbalanced equation

at the beginning of space time.

July 6, 2016 by Rose Booker

Strength in Fragility

Anansi wove man

from stardust spun

spider thread

an empty egg sack

waiting for

countless suns

to fill it.

Steel breaks

where Anansi pulls

taunt against gravity

yet each fragile

shimmering thread

remains

holding

solar clusters

as they pulsate

underneath

your brown skin.

July 3, 2016 by Rose Booker

Fourth of July Poetry

Tomorrow marks another milestone in Dragon’s Den’s history. As many in the US know, tomorrow is the Independence Day — the day each year we celebrate the signing of the Declaration of Independence and the beginning of the US Revolution. Given such an important day in this nation’s history, many writers have tossed their own thoughts into the air amid the fireworks and music. For this dragon writer, who loves fireworks in any shape and form, this tomorrow also marks the first Fourth of July in Washington. To celebrate this milestone, I present to you dear readers the top 10 poems for the Fourth.

I Hear America Singing by Walt Whitman

The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus

America by Claude McKay

Good Night by Carl Sandburg

Many ways to say good night.

Fireworks at a pier on the Fourth of July
spell it with red wheels and yellow spokes.
They fizz in the air, touch the water and quit.
Rockets make a trajectory of gold-and-blue
and then go out.

Railroad trains at night spell with a smokestack mushrooming a white pillar.

Steamboats turn a curve in the Mississippi crying a baritone that crosses lowland
cottonfields to razorback hill.

It is easy to spell good night.
Many ways to spell good night.

America by Allen Ginsberg