I’m back hammering on descriptions again. I have loved this poem since I first read it probably in high school for its ability to instantly evoke an image. That first line calls up the image of someone softly stepping in a dress of velvet black, hair elegantly pinned, spots of gems or sequins catching the light and dazzling the vision. Possibly stepping down a white staircase, a focal point of contrast.
(I’ll admit I don’t actually think in terms of images often, more in terms of impressions, but when I turn the impression of that first line into an image, that’s what it calls up. If that makes sense. But how does one translate the feelings and emotions in one’s head to others? (Words, obviously; aren’t you a writer?) Yeah well often they’re insufficient and also too much. Pinning the butterfly of thought to the pegboard of words can remove some of its life and tacking the nametag of genus and species under it may adequately describe it but not explain what it’s like to watch it fly.)
You know, I came on here because I wanted to work on my descriptions more. I frequently have spare prose and I want to work on that. Which you may have noticed since my last 2 prompts working on writing (all 2 that I’ve done so far, in fact) have centered on descriptions. And yet I still wander into story usually. I describe my room and say where each thing is from, why it’s here, why it’s where it is and important or sufficiently overlooked to be on my desk. I describe a forest in a sentence and a character in two phrases and spend the rest of my time in what they do and say. Is that bad? Not necessarily. But it leaves a lot out. So I want to get better at conveying images quickly. So I turn to poetry. I’m no expert (no really I’m not), but the other exercises weren’t accomplishing what I wanted. So I’m trying a new form to shake up my style. That being said, I’m pretty pleased with the butterfly metaphor above. So maybe I’m okay at this sometimes. Hooray, if the other ones are terrible, I’ve got something going for me!
Summer
Leaves shake in the wind,
Veins outlined in light.
Bright beams of sun dance between
and dazzle on my eyes.
Blue sky, vast and deep
Stretches long and wide
A forever of blue
Pouring warmth on my skin
That tickles from the grass
Dancing in that breeze.
I will melt here,
A puddle of peace in the sun.
Winter
A scooting scraping
Crunch crunch crunch
as I move each booted foot.
All else is still.
The world become monochrome
White ground, black trees,
Pale gray sky.
A small sting of snow on my cheek and my nose
Pink in this pale world.
What robe looks so majestic
As the gently stacked sparkle of snow
Bowing down the limbs of a pine
To caress the drifts below?
Spring
A riot of green grass
says I’m here! Remember me?
Look at this life, tumbling out
from the faded glory of last year’s leaves.
The early leafy buds
Make the trees a haze of green
A special green that only comes now
At the rebirth of the year.
Too yellow to be green,
To green to be anything else,
Promising bare branches
We will thrive again.
Autumn
A lone leaf skitters
brown and stiff
down pavement like a living thing.
It scoots like it’s on legs
then lifts and somersaults
then flies into the air
A last joyous ride after a long summer of work.
The tree beside me
Is blushing red with envy
to join the freedom of this leaf.
Well I hope that was enjoyable for you to read. Again, these are all rough drafts, and fairly flow of consciousness. I love watching the passing of seasons and the change that comes with each. Hope some of that came across here.
Intellectual Property of Elizabeth Doman
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