The spectrum of solitude

Even though some might think it, solitude is not that great.

Rain drips from the dark sky,

Like God,

Is dropping inky pennies on the earth.

Little packages of life,

Splatter,

Clatter like horses hooves

Across the veranda of 

Jenny's old house.

The water surges down 

C-r-e-a-k-y 

Old drain pipes.

Bulging out the sides of 

The gutter;

Bursting at the seams.

And with a 

Drip.

And a

Drop.

The rain squirms its way

Into jenny's home.

One drop falls from the ceiling.

Patters Jenny's grey, grizzly mop

Of

A head.

The drops increase,

Speeding up.

For a moment everything is

Still...

        ....

            ......

                  .

   .

    .

      .

Then one droplet cascades down,

With silent finality.

The drop catches the spectrum.

Projecting:

Scarlet

Vermilion

Saffron

Verdigris

aquamarine

ultramarine

Lavender

But then again, they're

Just

Names

In a story

Of science.

But names,

Can be pseudonyms.

Jenny sighs into her coffee.

For thirty years she had 

retreated,

To this place.

She'd inherited

from

her mother.

It was nowhere,

It wasn't even on a map.

She remembered

Her childhood, she

Always wished people

Would just leave her alone.

They didn't understand.

They didn't know,

What it was like.

To see your only friend,

Commit suicide.

She realized solitude is not

Great.

It drives cracks in your 

Conscience.

Until only

Loneliness and

Bitterness are

left.

Abstract,

That is what you become.

The spectrum nodded its head in

understanding.

It had so many

siblings.

But never referred to as

an individual.

Unique.

Always collective

Always

Oh it's the rain.

A baby faced sun,

peeks over the

Horizon

Spreading streaks of golden light.

At Jenny's farm:

No longer rain drips from the sky,

Like God

has run out of cash,

no more little packages of life,

Splatter.

The clattering like horses hooves

Across the veranda of 

Jenny's old house.

Has ceased.

And the spectrum is silent in its

solitude.

Author's Note

By Madeleina-Dorothea Rideaux (a.k.a moi)

Reviews

[mattavelli]

Hello, Madeleina! :)
I enjoyed it, lots of imagery and interesting thoughts. The section about dying for government threw me off a bit.

[iamshadowine]

You should really be proud of this poem! It is so good.... I loved the words you used to create the sense of imagery and an excellent story behind it! While reading it, it felt like I was reading a summary of a blockbuster in a poetic form! Loved it. :)
Keep writing :D

[Maddi]

Thank you. (:

[Saria Lon]

I love the images, patterns, and words you use to invoke your message! I also like the irregular grammar you use, like between the last two stanzas... it works with the flow nicely. Great use of personification ("the spectrum nodded its head..."). I can't think of any criticisms at the moment; I'm a new reviewer, so I'm still learning what to look for. This is a great poem, fantastic job. :)

[viola]

Oh wow! So many images! I usually get lost in long poetry. I didn't here. I love the concept of the spectrum being an individual but a collective--such a neat description of solitude! And the list of colors, they burst in my brain!
If I were you, I might analyze your capitalization. I can't quite follow the pattern of when you capitalize at the beginning of a line and when you don't.
Also I might think about when you use a whole line for one word. Sometimes you use it really powerfully--like in the listing colors stanza, or c-r-e-a-k-y. But other times it just feels choppy. Always make sure there is a reason you are emphasizing the word.
Again, great, great, poem! So hopeful and so sad at the same time!