Observing

In response to Margo Roby’s prompt concerning “narrative consciousness.” One of the steps was to describe an interaction from a distance in third person. I, naturally, did not quite get it right. Instead of a third person narrative, I did a third person observing two others. I guess I will call this an exercise instead of a prompt. Back to the drawing board…or paper…or keyboard…pad…tablet…

 

Tree limbs and the night obscured my view
and muffled sound, allowing me to only
hear snippets of their conversation,
a stray word with no context.

“Why” I heard several times,
and “love” I think, but in the echoes
of the garden, it could have been
“shove” or “blood” or “dove”.

There was no expression to their silhouettes,
only motion and shadow. His gesturing,
pointing and pacing. Hers mostly an upright
lump, hugging herself tight, until she uncurled

violently, the sound of her hand against his
face the first unmistakable communication.
He was still a moment, then backed up
a few steps before turning to walk away.

He stopped by the rose bush, carefully
cut the fullest bud, inhaled its fragrance,
then slowly scraped a thorn across his hand.
I thought I saw him smile before he

let the stem fall and faded into
the dark of the garden.

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15 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

15 responses to “Observing

  1. Well if you ‘fail’ like that then perhaps you might want to ‘fail’ more often. >KB

  2. Thats an amazing write, Mark.

  3. Well! Let me see. 😉

    I like it a lot. Your feeling that there is something here is on the mark. You have so many strong images. The idea of only seeing silhouettes [like shadow puppets] is wonderful. Now, about those gerunds. Whosits is right about not using ‘that’ unless it is needed for sense. 98% of the time it’s not needed. getting around -ing? Pftt!

    Tree limbs and the night obscured my view
    and muffled sound, allowed me to only

    The third stanza is interesting as the -ings are part of the rhythm. You would have to change quite a bit and you would lose ‘his’ ‘her’.

    There was no expression to their silhouettes,
    only motion and shadow. He gestured,
    pointed and paced. She stood, mostly an upright
    lump, hugging herself tight, until she uncurled

    Depends on how active you want the scene to be.

  4. Such a vividly etched scene. Powerful, especially him drawing the thorn across his hand. Wowzers!

  5. Intriguing! You painted a vivid & mysterious scene. Definitively a great narrative …

  6. poetrypea

    Oh, this was a lightening bolt of sadness to the gut. I wonder was it meant to be? That’s the joy of poems isn’t it, finding out what your words mean to others?

  7. in the echoes
    of the garden, it could have been
    “shove” or “blood” or “dove”

    A wonderful narrative, no doubt about it. Sometimes words get ‘blurred’ in their sounds when we are so engrossed. Good write, Mark!

    Hank

  8. Poems can be interpreted in thousand different ways ..lovely lines woven..:-)

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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