Published January 5, 2011
I slowly wake, reaching consciousness, though it still feels a dream. Upon opening my eyes I see the tangled green beauty of a forest canopy. Small patches of sky between the leaves show the sky to be grey and overcast. My bed, not a bed at all; but an old stone bench, whose cold, hard surface, offers me no comfort.
Long thick grass, which has all but covered the bench, rustles against my naked body. Turning to stand up my eyes rest upon a brass plaque; its message obscured by times erosion still stands testament to somebody’s loss. Stepping stones, cracked, broken and barely visible in the undergrowth mark a way between the tall moss covered trees.
Intrigued I follow the stones, often tripping and falling as the way becomes increasingly overgrown. As I fight my way through the plants, not even sure where I am going or why I am pushing so hard to get there, my naked flesh bleeds as thorns and braches tear at it.
Exhausted and almost at the point of giving up the fight I reach a clearing. Leading from the clearing are two open paths leading in opposite directions. One direction reveals the now setting sun, almost on the horizon, and the other is nearly dark with the first stars just beginning to emerge. I stand in the clearing for some time. Though my cuts still sting; the painful part of the journey is past. Enjoying the reprieve, I contemplate my path.
Finally I begin to walk; away from the setting sun and into the darkness. Every end means a new beginning and tomorrow I will face the rising sun.
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It is interesting what should and should not be considered poetry. I think this piece falls right onto that dividing line. Arranged in a slightly more poetic fashion (stanzas, lines, etc.) this could easily become unquestionably a poem. In fact, this is what I would above all recommend doing.
That said, I would like to congratulate you on your wonderful word choice and imagery. You have definitely managed to affect readers' emotions in these few lines. I love the last line:
One more thing: though you do a good job with the thorns, they kind of get in the way of the atmosphere you are attempting to create. Perhaps you could instead describe the scenery around the character.
By the way, welcome to YWS!
This is not actually poetry, due to the way you have written it. But if rearange it , it will become a good poem. You really evoked a lot of feelings. I like the way you gradually changed them , from pain to pleasure [ somewhat pleasure ]. The word choice is really good , and makes those feelings intense.
I could picture the whole thing , like a fanstasy scene, but I think you could have gone deeper.
The last part is really good. And I mean REALLY good.
*bows*