I have another practice poem this week. This one was written before last week’s poem, but it was more difficult to write. It came in bits and pieces over the course of a week, then had to be set aside to stew for another week. This poem also doesn’t adhere to any one form of meter, but focuses instead on a consistent number of syllables in each line. I don’t think it turned out as well as last week’s poem – a few lines are forced, I think the tone and themes are similar to those from last week, and I had to fall back on unusual formatting to separate the two stories that took form as I wrote. I still like the idea of the poem though, which is why I’m sharing it.

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Parallel

              And then into the mists I fell.  
 I walked along a silent city street,  
             I felt the ocean ebb and swell.  
 Surrounded by sweltering midnight heat.   

             Sunlit dust motes swirled through green leaves. 
Beads of sweat crept, then sprinted, over skin.  
             Thoughts were hushed by grass in the breeze.  
Shadows converged on corners, dark and dim.  

             A small village on a sea cliff.  
Black paths of patched and winding sidewalk cracks.  
             Tide bringing home the last small skiff.  
Is that someone following in my tracks?  

             Sunset on towering storm clouds.  
I hurry my steps; a distant horn honks.  
             I duck past moss hanging in shrouds.  
I pause only briefly at the cross walks.  

             The cool, stale air of a cavern.  
I stagger, then shake my head in dismay.  
             Coming back at night by lantern.  
Almost home, I turn down an alleyway.  

             I watched the sky as stars appeared.  
I passed the firelight of the homeless camp.  
             I used a pond for a mirror.  
My bag was heavy, and my shoulder was cramped.  

             Fireflies danced within my hands.  
I reached the back entrance of my building.  
             I dug my toes into the sands.  
In the hallway, my world began tilting.  

             I wandered into a sea cave.  
I dropped my keys and stumbled through the door.  
             It quickly filled with crashing waves.  
I threw the bolt and fell to the floor.  

             I climbed to rocks above the tide.  
I slowly crawled across the floor to bed.  
             I watched as rock and water vied.  
It felt as though waves crashed inside my head.  

             Water crashed, but rock resisted.  
My pillow beckoned, my mind objected.  
             Rock sneered, but water persisted.  
I counted sheep but was unaffected.  

             Their meeting made a fine, warm mist.  
I finally fell into a deep sleep.  
             It rose up, and my cheek it kissed.  
I sank into the dark from which dreams seep.  

             The rock crumbled beneath my feet.  
If I delved too deep, what would I find?  
             Rocks froze, waves paused in a roiling sheet.  
Fragments flowed through a hole, and the moon shined.  

             And then into the mists I fell.  
I didn't walk along a city street.  
             I felt the ocean ebb and swell.  
I left behind sweltering midnight heat.  

             The ocean swept me far away.  
Dreams soothed my worries, calmed my troubled thoughts, 
             I sank into the depths to stay.  
Welcomed me back, untied my muscles' knots.  

             Though my return was expected, 
Invited to stay, I chose not to wake.  
             My passing went undetected.  
My body remained in bed at daybreak.