Stone

[leftovernachos]

I was drawing at the park, and a butterfly with the most intricate and awe-inspiring markings landed on a stone next to me.
A young kid ran up to admire its colorful wings as they intermittently opened and closed in the warm sunlight...
In my mind, I could not have had a greater thirst for knowledge of this creature.
Where did it come from, what kind of cocoon did it weave, how long will it live?
I desperately wanted to know everything about it, to ask these things of it. I needed to.
As soon as I separated my teeth to begin forming the words, before my lips even opened, the butterfly ascended into flight.
Where was it going? Just another question to add to the writhing mass of string I'd later unwittingly lose an eternity of sleep trying to unravel.
I watched as the butterfly danced away into the park.
The boy ran after, stumbling and weaving through the other people, a look of wonder and admiration on his face.
The butterfly of course, flew off, and the kid returned to the stone.
Our eyes met for half a second, and without any words, we shared a mutual undying curiosity focused on this insect we had both just encountered.
He turned his gaze to the spot on the stone where the butterfly had landed earlier, and his eyes didn't leave the spot where it had been.
The boy was sizing up the stone, I couldn't believe it.
He mustered all of his strength, and though he was struggling to carry this relative boulder back to his mother, or whoever, goddamnit, he was carrying it. Surely this wasn't a keepsake, he didn't want to keep such a huge, heavy stone just to remember the butterfly by, did he?


That's when it struck me.
The butterfly very well could have been the most beautiful thing he'd seen in the few years he'd been alive, and he wanted to remember that.
What a familiar feeling.



I posted this in the mild criticism thread, because that's the skill level I think it's on.  Have at it with criticism, though, I'd like to know what you all would do differently!  I don't even know if it's a real poem, hah.

[cidermaid]

Hi,
I see this more as prose writing.
But that is not to say that it is not some material to make it a poem
Rather than offering crit I have highlighted the lines / words that carried some weight of image / meaning for me.

I was drawing at  in the park, and a butterfly with the most intricate and awe-inspiring markings landed on a stone next to me.
A young kid ran up to admire its colorful wings as they intermittently opened and closed in the warm sunlight...
In my mind, I could not have had a greater thirst for knowledge of this creature.
Where did it come from, what kind of cocoon did it weave, how long will it live?
I desperately wanted to know everything about it, to ask these things of it. I needed to. 
As soon as I separated my teeth to begin forming the words, before my lips even opened, the butterfly ascended into flight.
Where was it going? Just another question to add to the writhing mass of string I'd later unwittingly lose an eternity of sleep trying to unravel.
I watched as the butterfly danced away into the park.
The boy ran after, stumbling and weaving through the other people, a look of wonder and admiration on his face.
The butterfly of course, flew off, and the kid then returned to the stone.
Our eyes met for half a second, and without any words, we shared a mutual undying curiosity focused on this insect we had both just encountered.
He turned his gaze to the spot on the stone where the butterfly had landed earlier, and his eyes didn't leave the spot where it had been.
The boy was sizing up the stone, I couldn't believe it.
He mustered all of his strength, and though he was struggling to carry this relative boulder back to his mother, or whoever, goddamnit, he was carrying it. Surely this wasn't a keepsake, he didn't want to keep such a huge, heavy stone just to remember the butterfly by, did he?


That's when it struck me.
The butterfly very well could have been the most beautiful thing he'd seen in the few years he'd been alive, and he wanted to remember that.
What a familiar feeling.



I posted this in the mild criticism thread, because that's the skill level I think it's on.  Have at it with criticism, though, I'd like to know what you all would do differently!  I don't even know if it's a real poem, hah.

[leftovernachos]

Hi,
I see this more as prose writing.
But that is not to say that it is not some material to make it a poem
Rather than offering crit I have highlighted the lines / words that carried some weight of image / meaning for me.

Thank you so much for reading it and offering feedback!!!!
Just to clarify, what would one apply to a writing like this in order to classify it as a poem? Meter, yeah?

[cidermaid]

I can't recall where they are but buried in the forum are some excellent disussions and comments on what makes a poem. (perhaps one of the others can offer you a link to help find them)
I guess what i was trying to offer was a suggestion of how to start the process of turning this into a poem (as opposed to prose)
What will make it a poem?... if I was on such a quest, having done my free write and then picked out the key words and images, (basically what you have above) Personally, I might next think about what type of poetic form, art (or lack of) might best compliment and strengthen the ideas I have. But then I know everybody aproaches how they create a poem differntly.
At the end of the day - this is your poem whilst it is in the creation process - take ownership of it and enjoy the journey.
All the best AJ.

[Erthona]

Before I go into this, I just want to say that as far as I am concerned poetry is not better than prose, nor prose better than poetry. They are different because they have different uses. They both can provide excellent sometimes transcendent material, depending upon the talent and skill of the writer. It is erroneous to think that poetry does not have to adhere to the same writing rules as prose or any other kind of writing. OK, introduction done.  

leftovernachos wrote: "Just to clarify, what would one apply to a writing like this in order to classify it as a poem? Meter, yeah?"

At the minimum: rhythm/cadence.  

As it is it is more or less a factual narrative, with only a little speculation at the end, one finds little in the way of poetic tropes. Especially metaphor as it is probably the most important tool of poets.

Poems do not have to be based on meter, however if one does not understand about cadence and how to use it, then meter is preferable, as well as the surest way to learning about cadence, rhythm, beat, and so on. As T. S. Elliot famously said, there is nothing free about free verse. Although "free verse" or"free form" is not reliant on iambs as traditional free verse was, poetry must at the minimum have a rhythmic quality that not only support the poem, but energizes it. In prose the narrations or the plot moves the story along. Unless poetry is longer than most of what we see today, it hasn't the space to rely on such devices. Prose can use the mystery of what will happen to pull the reader along. This is generally not an option for poetry as it is slow in developing. Although things seem to be changing, it is still not that that common to see an epic work rely on cadence such as the "Leaves of Grass," by Whitman. With metered poetry it is much simpler. One always has the static form to fall back on if he loses his way. He always knows how many feet of what kind of meter(s) that need to go into making up the line, and it is fairly easy to recognize this.

For me your poem seemed closer to a parable than anything else, although it lacked the objectiveness of a traditional parable. Still it reminded us that the quality to feel awed so easy to come to for children, still function in adults also, if we can briefly achieve that non-judgmental in children. It opens us up to wonder. That sort of motif is probably more common in poetry than it is in prose. In these gray area sorts of writing this is often the case and there is really no objective way to firmly say it is this rather than that.
Personally I would like to see this put more in the poetry camp as I think it will benefit from that. However it can stay where it is and people can deal with it that way. The bottom line is, it really doesn't matter. These definition we put on writing are completely artificial and do not exist in reality. We simply box them up because it makes it easier on our either/or brains, but that's a different story.


Welcome to the site,

Dale

[billy]

for me this is out and out prose. poetry needs more use of either some or all of the following; poetic device such as simile/metaphor, assonance, consonance, alliteration, allusion, meter, rhyme and a host more in general poetry doesn't read like a book though in some cases it does, usually because the metre is subtle. (and sometimes for other reasons) but in general if the world thinks it reads as prose it's probably prose, (three or four fellow poets represent the world ). as cidermaid pointed out there is enough material for a poem in the prose with a little work.

[billy]

oops i missed out allegory, dante's inferno is an allegorical poem that reads as prose to many (me included) but in fact is a poem to those who know.

[Vigilante Mugshot]

After the amount of Robert Frost I just had to study in my high school English class this is a breath of fresh air!

That being said, I have a few ideas.
So, your writing feels a little long winded, it's like you're telling me how your day was rather then blowing my hair back like you could have. I think if you took out all the fluff you would be left with a super cool poem. You can really put a dent in all that fluff by making sure you don't repeat yourself. For example, "the young child" holds the exact same value as "child" because a child is already young. Another thing, you write this from your own point of view, but the focus of the poem is the kid, which isn't bad, but I would talk less about you and more about the kid. The speaker in poetry sort of plays the same roll as a camera filming a movie.

Your on to something here, keep writing!

[JGmusic512]

I enjoyed this contemplation of curiosity itself. It is not always easy to find beauty in the little things but you seem to have no problem doing this. I don't know if I would classify this as a poem unless you intend to restructure the ideas/images into a more rhythmic structure, though I definitely feel the topic is worthy of working it into a poem because it is very imaginative and whimsical. My favorite line was easily "Just another question to add to the writing mass of string I'd later unwittingly lose an eternity of sleep trying to unravel."

This story reminds me of an experience I had one day eating my lunch outside on a picnic table; I was enjoying my sandwich when a beautiful monarch butterfly casually landed on my arm where she stayed for several minutes while I admired her wings and lightness. Just like you I had a moment of curiosity about her life and how far she had come to be there with me that day. She flitted off to another table as I was finishing my lunch while I marveled at the seeming connection we had just made. Sadly, not a minute later a bird swooped down on the table and gobbled her up in two shocking bites! This occurred several years ago but has stuck with me since and resurfaced after reading your poem. Both of these encounters with butterflies serve as a reminder that beauty, life, and basically everything that matters is fleeting and meaningful; I wish more people viewed the world with this kind of child-like wonder that the author shares with the young boy.

Thanks for sharing your words!