not far from
the evening moon's
bright belly,
a tiny pink cloud,
lit by sunset --
cherryblossom,
pink as petals
floating in a river
of darkening blue.
why does it matter?
I stare at it, all other thoughts
pushed aside, so I can
contemplate the beautiful,
memorize it, just
so I can write this later.
not for the poem's sake,
no, but for the sky's.
Comments
Benjamin Gorman
February 3, 2012
Permalink
sweet
just right.
Jennifer Dixey
February 3, 2012
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except ...
I just realized I said it was pink twice. That's bothering me. Thanks, though. :)
Benjamin Gorman
February 3, 2012
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repetition has purpose
Review the works of poets you admire and find repetition there. The rulebook's a guideline in your service, not your master, missy!
Jennifer Dixey
February 4, 2012
Permalink
oh no ...
... there's a rulebook?