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.🍂

[Scott Kris]

OMG! I read this and feel like I’m reading one of the greatest poems of my lifetime.

The last four lines could stand a poem all alone.

I’m humbled to even read and be able to give a comment. No observation if mine could suffice to say how raw and living this poem winds within my mind and reaches through my heart into my gut, until it wafts invisibly through my very soul.

Amazing write!

Blessed,

Scott

[Eilis]

The heart has a way of returning even when we think the place it returns to was long since forgotten. This poem makes me think of the battle between mind and heart, in a sense. But also just of crossroads. The places we find ourselves in faced with decisions.

The sense of inevitable alteration is strong, but you always manage to leave plenty of room for readers to find themselves in your story. I suppose I find that to be one of the fascinating things about your style. It is honest and open, but always inviting others to look in the mirror of their own lives.

Haunting poetry. Always so finely honed. Great work, Linda.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you for reading and reviewing, Eilis. Your words are always so inciteful and true.

[barleygirl]

This is awesome writing in every way. V4 stands out to me becuz of your admission of "not knowing" . . . which is the essence of good writing for me. I love it when a writer feels like he/she is making a discovery WITH us, as the words are spilling out for that particular poem. I don't like it as well when a writer feels overconfident about knowing his/her subject. Your poem seems to celebrate how it really is with good writing, how we don't know where it comes from or how it will go or if it will visit anytime soon again! This feels like a melancholy spill about the writing life, but I love how honest your words are (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Margie. I wrote this from the bone harp of sorrow. I was feeling "mighty low" when writing this so I'm glad the words conveyed what I was feeling. This one seems to really resonate with people. Thank you for reading.

[Coyote Poetry]

This is poetry and deep thoughts dear Linda.
"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."
The above lines could stand alone and I believe. We become what we suppose to be. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Coyote.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome Linda.

[Robert Trakofler]

You are a singularity of the most precious sort dear Linda! The resonance flow from these lines is a song of sublime striking sorrow:( But much wondrous is yet to come for you... for the darkest and most narrow paths can lead to many an open field! This poem is lovely and the effect of it draws me so strongly and makes me want to polish my rusty armor and go into battle:) "neah what foul beast could upset this graces vessel... have at you!" Growlss the Fearless Bunny barely able to reach his trusty sword of illumination from his battered and cumbersome armor. He slaps his blade to his chest in defiance to the creature of darkness!

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

… and the dear knight rises to rescue the damsel in distress … you are so sweet. Thank you. :-)

[Robert Trakofler]

The Bunny's creaky bones and tarnished armor is always at me lady's beckon

[DIVYA]

This is a poem that has such beauty in its sadness. Your words caress the reader, drawing them into that dark, haunting world of balmy autumn breeze, of imminent rain, of loneliness and sad longings. Beautifully written...

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Divya. I appreciate your visit.

[DIVYA]

You are welcome Linda :)

[R.E. Ray]

“In the center of a black hole is a gravitational singularity, a one-dimensional point which contains a huge mass in an infinitely small space, where density and gravity become infinite and space-time curves infinitely, and where the laws of physics as we know them cease to operate.” That is a “singularity” in science.

The “center” in your poem is the woman in the black and white photograph, sitting between the shadows, the dim light encircling her. Your eight stanzas and thirty-two lines bring life to this “science,” and paint a mood and emotions of natural beauty, though gray.

I read and see a woman ravaged by history, like a deciduous tree that weathers the seasons, especially winter. They’ve both “worn” color, felt the sun and summer breezes. But, here they stand alone, cold, painted the darkest ink.

Though another person might read death or dying in this poem, I read a beautiful resilience, because the “rose” is a perennial, and it will not only survive but bloom again. This is a phenomenal poem, Linda Marie.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, R.E. There are a lot of emotions in this piece. I'm at a turning point in life right now, and the uncertainty leaves me a bit anxious at times.

[Chris Shaw]

Incredibly sad to read, I felt real pain in your lines Linda Marie. So many good lines here and perfect poetic expression. Your final stanza is memorable. Excellent work.

Chris

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Chris. I always appreciate your visits.

[Chris Shaw]

I enjoy your poetry very much. You have a rare talent :)

[A. Musing]

Beautiful.

Lonely, sad, but honest. I like how you admit to having held, seen heard beautiful parts of life, though you have "strained to survive" (living seems to be like this more and more)...

Yet you've written pain so beautifully.

Thank you for sharing.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you for the first-time visit. I am always happy to meet someone new at the café.