Wordless

[JC_Chalant]

Wordless

I don’t know the names of plants
which makes it difficult to describe
scenes encountered outside:
glistened boughs and wet leaf confetti
slight fair afternoons renewed by deluge;
grassy path doesn’t grasp the shivering caress
of blue petals among sandy-blonde strands.

I can’t recall the names of birds
so the best I can do is tell you
about the balance of a hollow pear
on a pencil-thin branch under siege
from fitful gusts; but I’ve left out
the tail, the way it twitches as a cat’s
ears or a TV screen stuck between signals.

The names of clouds escape me, dissipate
into gray passages in my heavy textbook
of thoughts; I see the sun-yellow highlight
bright on the crest of the word to express
this lock of wool tethered to an invisible line
and lured across the crayon sky, unspooling
until wafted – the impression fading to forgotten.

[milo]

Hello there

First, let me say that I thoroughly enjoyed this.

The concept is refreshing yet familiar - not having the words necessary to do what we need to do.  It is well -developed: 3 separate situations (all naturalist) and the metaphor is solid throughout.  For my personal preference I might have like an intro strophe and then a summary strophe but that is not a criticism of the poem itself.

Wordless

I don’t know the names of plants
which makes it difficult to describe
scenes encountered outside:
glistened boughs and wet leaf confetti
slight fair afternoons renewed by deluge;
grassy path doesn’t grasp the shivering caress
of blue petals among sandy-blonde strands.

title is perfect - apt to the central metaphor.  you maintain a loose iambic meter throughout.  This does cause an awkward promotion on "don't" on successive reads but if it doesn't bother other readers no sense in changing it.

perhaps a dash on wet leaf "wet-leaf"
double modification on afternoons
with the informal tone, might be best with article on L7
or maybe not

all line breaks are very good.  language is very good, strong but not overly so.  Well, with the possible exception of deluge which may be a bit too strong

I can’t recall the names of birds
so the best I can do is tell you
about the balance of a hollow pear
on a pencil-thin branch under siege
from fitful gusts; but I’ve left out
the tail, the way it twitches as a cat’s
ears or a TV screen stuck between signals.

so the 3 separate options for not knowing words is important because repeating would get dull but this one feels a little like a red herring.  There is a difference between not knowing something and not being able to recall something and I don't think that is ever supported in this poem.

not sure why the pear is hollow
the similes are nice.

The reader in me spent a little time wondering if the cat or the tv themselves were important but I decided they were not.
maybe change the break on "out" the rest are good.
tone continues throughout, solid word choices solid rhythm.

The names of clouds escape me, dissipate
into gray passages in my heavy textbook
of thoughts; I see the sun-yellow highlight
bright on the crest of the word to express
this lock of wool tethered to an invisible line
and lured across the crayon sky, unspooling
until wafted – the impression fading to forgotten.

so, the names of clouds escaping is brilliant - the comparison of them dissipating much like clouds - love it.
I wonder if you considered "flock of wool" which actually has a double meaning here
I dont know if I buy "crayon sky" 

Overall, the poem is excellent - the sounds, the images, the rhythm, the metaphor are all solid.

For my own taste I would love at least a final half strophe but that is probably just me.

Thanks

[busker]

Wordless

I don’t know the names of plants
which makes it difficult to describe
scenes encountered outside:
glistened boughs and wet leaf confetti
slight fair afternoons renewed by deluge;
grassy path doesn’t grasp the shivering caress
of blue petals among sandy-blonde strands.

I can’t recall the names of birds
so the best I can do is tell you
about the balance of a hollow pear
on a pencil-thin branch under siege
from fitful gusts; but I’ve left out
the tail, the way it twitches as a cat’s
ears or a TV screen stuck between signals.

The names of clouds escape me, dissipate
into gray passages in my heavy textbook
of thoughts; I see the sun-yellow highlight
bright on the crest of the word to express
this lock of wool tethered to an invisible line
and lured across the crayon sky, unspooling
until wafted – the impression fading to forgotten.

The poem has a number of pretty memorable lines (green), but they aren't served well by the rest of the poem  (worst offenders: blue).
The opening draws the reader in, but then you have "which makes it difficult to describe / scenes encountered outside:", which is utterly prosaic.

So that's the first suggestion - cut out the deadweight.

my other observation is that in this type of poem, the reader expects a payoff at the end.  You start with not knowing the names of plants, but is there a nice  little piece of wisdom that's to come at the end of a well told list of things you don't remember? In this poem, there's none, it's just a list. That's a bit of a downer.