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 |    Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
| Rosemary told me she has no tattoos Spring sprung and peach blossoms burst. Rosemary was tempted to ride a motorbike; but, she'd never ridden in an ambulance before, never'd hit a deer, never watched someone die and didn't want herself to be the first. She had no scars, no broken bones (except ... maybe ... her little toe). She wanted to live under bluegreen skies, thrive to capture eighty more years of sunrise over the ocean, more summer sunsets and slices of warm peach pie. I penned another poem to honor her name and asked who'll read this? Rosemary smiled, then replied: Don't matter to me. KE [177.33] (14.april.2020) This is supposed to be like a sonnet but breaking the rules. To me it's just free verse. I have no idea what others consider a beat or a meter or anything else. My ear does not hear any music in what I wrote above and I hear what I read so for me it feels like cut up prose. But whatever ... It's based on answers at spacebook to one of those silly questionnaires. Have you ever done this? Do you have any of those? Who will play along? I left out that Rosemary doesn't have a tattoo... and then added that tidbit to the title. She's a real person and just turned 80. 104,078 blog views |
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