A Poem Shared

An experiment to go beyond the standard poem. Encapsulate the poem within a short setting; giving the verse an extra dimension of meaning to be examined.

                The tall line of oaks masking the horizon cut a line across the sky bringing a sharp contrast of foliage and clouds. Sunlight poured through a collage of shadows where the rays pricked and tickled my skin like the blades of grass that whisper softly in my ear. Stay, don’t go, they say to me as I try to shake off the hypnotic spell that holds my body still. I hear echoes of my name that come from a different plane.  Who is that? What do they want? What?

                “What the hell do you want?” I ask as I prop myself onto my elbows and look to my left. Sammi, chestnut hair and vivid green eyes, looks at me and sighs.

                “I asked what you thought of my poem, jack a*s.” She pets a leaf of clover while scowling at me, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

                I lay back down, is that a bug on me? I feel tiny legs scurrying across my arm. A little ladybug, bright crimson with five block dots speckled across its back, trips over the forest of arm hair as it struggles with its task. No harm, I leave it be and rest my head back.

                “Sorry,” I say, “I must have dazed off for a moment. Read it for me again?” My head rolls to the side as I say this and a stray sunbeam attacks my shut eyes and threatens to break through to my mind.

                “So you can ignore me again?” I roll to my side and look at her. Red lips that traced just above her chin, wide eyes and a slender face. Radiant without make up. Clean and natural. Without saying anything, I just stare at her and wait for my kind expression to melt the anger that I caused. Rolling her eyes, she lightly shoves my shoulder, a touch that tingles; that facsimile of contact so treasured amongst our kind. Beyond sexual, it is the physical representation of our longing to share minds. To hold a companion with you on the lonely journey of thought and perception.

                “Fine, but listen this time:

 

A stolen song escapes my throat

And is sung for all the woods

A sweet melody, a lost memory

Brings to sense all of my crimes.

 

I do not weep for the falling leaves,

Or the fire that consumes.

All I cherish, all I lost,

I find again with you."

 

                She looks up from her hand where she traced the lines of tendons and veins to smile at me. Without a word, she blinks those vivid green eyes.

Author's Note

An interesting idea, I thought. A new way to envision poetry.