As I move nearer to death, memory gathers the scraps of my life.
A monostitch (one-line) poem for NaPoWriMo; a memory poem for Poetic Asides 'Poem A Day.' I made my one-liner an American Sentence.
We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage /
And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, /
We Poets of the proud old lineage /
Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ...
(James Elroy Flecker)
Your one-liner resonates with me in a haunting yet positive way. Gathering the scraps of life while we still can.
ReplyDeleteExactly! But somewhat of an involuntary process.
DeleteSeems to me you're stitching a lovely quilt of poetry with those "scraps."
ReplyDeleteAww, that's nice to be told!
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