Singularity

I am clothed in remnants of bygone years,
flecks of memory, happiness, and pain.
The departed have drowned in wells of tears,
in lungs that harvest a quarry of rain.

My path has narrowed to a hopeless end.
I send a raven with anointed wings,
with feathers from a quill that might have penned
a heart-song of wondrous imaginings.

I stretched my limbs as far as they will go.
The time has come for me to sit and rest.
As leaves fall freely and autumn winds blow,
my heart is heavy as the night compressed.

I don’t know if I will visit again,
if this is all there is, the worst or best.
I have strained to survive but even then
failure settled in my quivering breast.

My hands have held the most beautiful things:
a moonbeam as bright as the Buddha’s eye,
a balmy breeze over trickling springs,
and droplets of rain from a cloudy sky.

My eyes have seen through their portals of blue
the broken timbers of lightning’s defeat,
the black and white photographs’ field of view
like voiceless fragments of life in retreat.

My ears have longed for the sound of your voice,
the green wind of hope for a sanguine heart,
for words to awake my soul to rejoice
in moments of joy before you depart.

I dissolve into this poetic pose.
My dress is brimming with the darkest ink,
and I fade to ash like a fallen rose
beneath a crescent moon on heaven’s brink.

Author's Note

Reviews

[Richard🖌]

Anyone doubting there can be beauty in sadness, never read this.

Ya know, Linda Marie?
One of the most impacting aspects of your writing (that has always drawn me back) is knowing such brilliantly original wordsmithing in poetic perfection, along with something ever new, will be here to greet and amaze me again and again. And, surely, as a lover for your kind of writing, all that (and more) is what keeps me hooked … just felt like sharing that. : )

From your choice of illustration here, to every un-wasted word, spot-on rhyme, detailed punctuation that never leaves us lost or wondering, the haunting music, and brilliantly impacting verse … the timbre of it all sweeps through me equally with amazement, satisfaction in realizing when I'm reading splendidly rendered poetry, with a presentation from an artist that, obviously, takes no small amount of pride in knowing she's given her best. All, with the fullest impact to my mind, heart, and emotions, that I'm captured in such a way the world vanishes around me … and, I so fervently welcome the ever captivating interludes.

In this piece, you proffer sad history, a life shorn of beauteous grace, yet, in this soul of insipid tears come such saving grace as:
"My hands have held the most beautiful things:
a moonbeam as bright as the Buddha’s eye,
a balmy breeze over trickling springs,
and droplets of rain from a cloudy sky." You still embrace such wonders life enfolds.

In your penultimate verse is the heartrending ache and yearning for a lost love that seemingly imbues your very fibre, and I know, all too well, this piece will draw me back time and again, as so many of yours have and do.

Then, finally, as the curtain falls, all of You your poem's portrayed reclaims you, as if, forevermore.
Throughout the ambiance of its entirety, there oozes an almost handwringing sense of anxiety I've, yet, e'er felt before from your work … lending and leaving a deeply, empathetically felt need to comfort.
If I were to address every impacting nuance, it would entail pages more … yeah, I know, "Save us, please!" LOL!

Well (shaking my head to wake from the spell), need I even have to say this one will linger?
Thank you, Linda Marie, with most grateful appreciation … wondering how you do it, every time! ⁓ Richard 🍃

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Hearing the sad melody play as I read your review makes me feel so undeserving. I really wish I could write that penultimate verse of which you speak; and yet, if I did, would it be the end? As poets, we keep striving to reach that end; but I know so few of us will ever reach it. The end will reach us before we attain such heights. I am truly touched by your affection, as beautiful as any poem ever written. Thank you.

[Richard🖌]

With a low ⁓ sweeping bow.🍂

[Jellyshot]

Touching and beautiful- the words are flowing but not too flowery and I think I’m in awe of your art form. My emotions are a bit haywire.
Thank you for writing this.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you for the visit and for your kind review. You are new to me, and I will be sure to read your work in return.

[Lorry]

Ive been trying to think of a word beyond poignant to describe the softness and fragility of how this was heard from me, but im stumped, so I'll do what i always do in these situations and make one up...tearachingly-heartbursting... Which is two words, but i hyphenated it into a compound word, so am feeling very self-smily at myself.
The picture just had to be black and white for this piece, which in my humble opinion is perfect for spoken word, unless like me you sound like shrek gargling pebbles.
I think this is a perfect example of why poetry is so different from person to person, yet so much common ground can be found when anothers words connect to our own thoughts and ponderings.
Superb work.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Lorry. I can spend days trying to choose the perfect image and music to go with a poem, and it can be so frustrating at times. The poem speaks for itself; but as an artist, I like to create the full experience through words, music, and art. I want it to touch all the senses: sight, hearing, and feeling. I'm glad that this one touched you, and I like the tearachingly-heartbursting word used to describe it. Thanks again.

[JTD]

I want to go hug my pillow and cry. This reads like a letter from someone about to commit suicide. Very sad, beautiful, but sad.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, JTD. If I can emote sadness to the point where you can feel it to that degree, I consider it a job well done. That's the highest compliment. Thanks again.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

love the line "my dress is brimming with the darkest ink"

quite clever that one...

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you. I was just in one of those sad moods tonight, and this is the result.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

different actors...Portrait has Jennifer Jones and Joseph Cotton...and is in black and white...beautiful, haunting film...

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Jacob, Did you have any problems accessing my page and/or reviewing this poem? Someone contacted me to let me know that they are receiving a phishing scam-security alert when clicking on my name and poems.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

no problem at all.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thanks, Jacob. That's good to know.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is insanely sad...reminds me of an old movie..."portrait of Jenny"
a love that was never to be exchanged to fruition....and life was just memories of all the good things lost.
j.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Jacob. I have never heard of the movie before, but I did go to Amazon and saw it's based upon a book. I think the same actors who played in the Ghost and Mrs. Muir are in "Portrait of Jennie" as well. I've added it to my cart; and the next time I place an order, I will purchase it. Just the description of it makes me want it.