When I just write…words go on and on. When I write with a rhythm, it automatically morphs into rhyme. I’m hoping to not end up using rhyme, but for now, that’s how I’m getting my thoughts to come out! I find it easier to keep things more crystallized. I keep hoping the rhyme will disappear, but sofar it hasn’t. So for now, I’ll let it help me stay focused. Crazy how that happens. So here’s what happened. Gives one possible way to start, but not necessarily the simplest or chosen one yet.
Old Owl noticed The Hillock from his high up nest.
One eye looked East and one looked West.
On the eastern slopes under the old oak tree,
He watched royalty sipping afternoon tea.
Yet on the western side as the sun was setting
He saw simple folk working, panting, and sweating.
For…down at the Hillock on the royal part,
Lived the one winged bird near the Castle of the Heart.
Life was easy. Not a care or a woe.
Everything came with an easy flow.
The old aqueduct carried water and mail.
And the snail queen painted her diamond trail.
The cedar swayed with a sassy bend.
Critter seahorse frolicked til each day’s end ….
Yet on the western side of the large old oak,
Lived simple, hardworking, humbler folk.
For them there was hardly any pomp and play.
The potter dug deep and worked for his clay.
The artist cried as she felt their pain.
And the cooks worked tirelessly through wind and rain.
Postal people sent bottles to the queen.
And the aqueduct delivery system was kept smooth and clean.
Preena’s spa polished royal crowns.
And fluffed up sheets of milkweed down.
The metalworker toiled through heat and wind
To craft tools and needles for every job’s mend.