Little Girl from Huancayo
I’ll tell you what I’d like to do—best! In
the month of August, — Some afternoon, in Huancayo, Peru I’d like to just mosey
about the Plaza de Arms, like I used to do. Sit on a bench and rest. Feel the breeze
coming through the mountains, and do anything else! I like to watch the pigeons on the old
Cathedral roof dive for corn the kids throw about; observe the ice cream
venders moseying about, it all catches my interest. I like scrutinizing the
sparrows as they climb up some tree…maybe find a nest tucked away in some
branches. Read a good book of poetry, fall to sleep knee-deep in the breeze of
August.
#3864 (4-21-2013)
Note: Poetic Prose, or metered poetry, or rhyme, it
all doesn’t matter, however the writer wants his work written out, there is no
reason why he cannot do so. In some cases I use Poetic Prose Rhyme. Poetry is
no more limited than literature is in general. Poetry of course is more
selective, short, and it may produce more images than prose. It is all a matter of getting out truth one
way or another. Here the poet tries to avoid sentimentally and produce everyday
objects, recreate the world of experience: which can be done in poetic prose,
or even an essay; trying to avoid the drabness and the inadequacy of metered
poetry: hence, we see: mountains, pigeons, a tree branches, etc.
