What the Sky Sacrificed

Insouciant Rebellions 10/11/17


What the Sky Sacrificed


The blue, almost transparent sky.

The grass, so different, with its green silkiness

Its rigid lines

Can they touch?

Would they dare?

Could the sky use its fluffy cloud-like hands

And reach out to the stern grass

Touch the greenness of the grass

The bugs eating at it

Eating away

And could the grass touch the sky?

Can it grow so high?

Reaching its maximum size

Reaching out to the wonderful sky

With its bipolar attitude

And difficult emotions

Blue one day

And pale the next

Happily, orange another

And angry red forever

Joined by the moon

And sun

They see

They are the eyes

And the eyes are they

And if the grass

Touched the sky

He risks so much

For they sacrifice their lives

Mere humans survive

But love holds, eternally

Unless a price is paid

Can they touch?

Would they dare?



  • Gary Edward Geraci

    There’s a vagueness in your poem that I can’t quite seem to reconcile. What exactly is the sky sacrificing here? I personally find fault in the premise that the reader should define the objective of the poem (read it and take it however you want). You, the poet, are in the drivers seat. Wouldn’t it be artistic of you to want to take us to that clearly defined destination that you have envisioned?

    • InsouciantRebellions

      Yes I should, but then again this isn't a well thought through poem. I just put whatever I could type up and published it. I didn't care if it made sense or not. That may seem selfish and it may come out the wrong way, but I'm fine with that.

      • Gary Edward Geraci

        In your own defense; your spontaneous writing method probably falls within a contemporary “school of writing” poetry that eschews traditional form, the imparting of meaning, and/or any semblance of order for that matter (sign up for the daily e-mail poem at “” to get a taste of this; especially poems written by MFA professors in the more liberal New York, universities). I personally expect more out of poetry and am deeply saddened by the dictatorship of relativism that have hijacked our young and precious artists. We could all make a valiant difference with what we choose to put down on pen and paper (excuse my metaphor).

      • 2 more comments

      To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.