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Rencontre

Submitted by Triskelion on Sat, 2023-10-28 08:42

The rain was pelting the nylon
as thin as the summer leaves above.
Even in that unfriendly dark, I felt safe
when my skin was peeled back
in a flash of light that drowned shadows,
ripped the steady hush of a shower
with a bone snapping crack
precursing lighthouse pulses,
rolling tremors of hunters
splitting the night

Next morning, I went down to the shallow lake
found a rivulet that cut its way into the sand
And in it, the diamond ring you let slip
from the finger that held you back

Your memory floated
over the hollow freshness

echoed shore to shore

And the willows...
well...
they wept.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
just tossing this out there before starting my editing. Any input is appreciated.
Editing stage: 
Editing - rough draft
Contest: 
October 2023 Challenge Write a poem about being caught in a rain storm
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Lavender

Mon, 2023-10-30 09:11

Lavender's picture
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Hello, Thomas,
I felt the immense conflict in the first stanza - from both the external storm, and the inner turmoil. "...skin was peeled back" and "...bone snapping crack" - great language that brought me right into the experience. The entire first stanza is filled with the harsh reality of the storm(s) - loud and intrusive, and raw. And then there is this haunting silence of the next morning. Empty and spent. So deep in thought that one's thoughts are not understood. Beautiful final stanza. A very different poem from your usual, I believe. The more I read it, the more poignant it becomes.
Thank you,
L

Candlewitch

Mon, 2023-10-30 17:22

Candlewitch's picture
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the beginning of your poem reminds me of a time in the summer when I was sixteen. house sitting for the family who was on a traveling vacation to see Mt. Rushmore. a tornado touched down in Minnesota and in the city of Minneapolis high winds were ripping trees up right and left. it was a real shame.Lyndale Avenue used to have a bower of trees whose branches touched over head all the way down the street for a mile. now with trees torn up by the roots and sidewalks in upheaval.

your poem trickles down into a surreal vision of a separation from emotion (almost out of body) looking on detached...remembering... my favorite lines are:

Your memory floated
over the hollow freshness

echoed shore to shore

thanks for a wonder filled story
*hugs, Cat

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