Patchwork Leaf

Patchwork Leaf


Do you like my poem?

A backward step,
A trusting fall into its amber arms;
Its crystals contain my bodily form
And I am urged to stay and watch
This immovable waxy prism
Depress the dusty, patchwork linoleum.
And I am now but my own two eyes
With which I have been left
To contemplate and imagine
That which has hitherto evaded scientific minds:
Is there not some elegant answer
To age-old cryptic questions
We ignore every day from shaking leaves?
What of the transition of umbra to penumbra
Of a scratching pen
When tiredness overcomes us
And, gently, lays our heads on our hands,
Hands on books,
Books we so fervently examine?

You get a sense of movement and flow from your poem, which is very good. A few parts of it I don't understand, however, such as "shaking leaves". I like the depiction of color. I would change two things, there are two many "of"'s in "of umbra" along with "of a scratching pen" and one two many "books", instead, try replacing it with something that rhymes maybe. I really like your poem, especially the way it transitions and flows, you get a sense of something happening, vivid scenery, and color imagery that seems to work all together.