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Barely Sticks To his Routine

And the hearse did rehearse its path, Though the skeleton held dearly To his ground, smiling loud. He was bare - needed a shroud, With his straight bow, grinned severely. For it seems, he’ll not move ever. There’s his calcified stick figure, Who’s not shamed in the least. For on earth, his time’s increased. Seems he’s stuck in mortis-rigor.

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Paige Hind

Date: 5/5/2025 11:33:00 AM

This is very smart, with a dark sense of humor perhaps- tells the truth

Kim Rodrigues
Date: 5/5/2025 4:44:00 PM

This skeleton, in the neighborhood, bugs me…lol! Still - it inspires poetry!

Daniel Henry Rodgers

Date: 5/5/2025 7:55:00 AM

Dear Kim, Your words wittily animated the stubborn skeleton, “stuck in mortis-rigor,” refusing to budge even as the hearse rehearses its route. I love the science of rigor mortis-the postmortem stiffening that locks muscles in place, a literal “calcified stick figure” unashamed of his fate. I love your clever take blending dark humor with biological truth, making mortality both memorable and oddly endearing. Spring Blessings, My Dear Friend, Daniel

Kim Rodrigues
Date: 5/5/2025 8:16:00 AM

Spring Blessings! Thank you so much, dear Daniel!