Sad Song

“The clear vowels rise like balloons” S.Plath ~ Morning Song

A favourite song floats into the mind
on a passing whimsical wind,
prompted by a blackbird’s incidental trill
or the postman’s whistle,
and I am there again,
mouth wide open, lungs bursting with the thrill,
in a crowd of hearts beating to the same rhythm
as the heroes of my younger years.
I cling to memories like helium
escaping from a bright balloon,
and all that’s left are words to songs
I no longer have the voice to sing.

Kim M. Russell, 26th January 2021

My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: Beginning at the End

Laura says that, in January, she has been pondering on finales after reciting Shelley’s ‘Ozymandias’ to herself and realising she had forgotten the final lines. One poem led to another, and another, and this Tuesday’s prompt was born.

Laura tells us that there is much advice out there on how to write an ending to a poem and has given us examples. Our challenge is to choose just one of the final lines Laura has given us and write poems as continuations where the poets left off, with special thought to our own final lines. She asks us not to use the lines as titles or within our writing but either cite the reference at the end or place the quote as Epigraph to the start of our poems.  

41 thoughts on “Sad Song

  1. Oh my aching heart this is poignant! The sadness, the ache is so very palpable especially in these lines; “and I am there again, mouth wide open, lungs bursting with the thrill, in a crowd of hearts beating to the same rhythm as the heroes of my younger years.” Gorgeously rendered, Kim! 💝💝

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Reading this work, KR, makes me feel like I came upon a child of God, walking along the road; this poem is stardust; it’s golden, and it lets me get back to the garden (whether I can still sing or not.) Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. a mournful ‘knowing’ that the end is approaching when we can no longer belt out the tunes we adore … sorry you’ve lost your singing voice, I never had one.

    Also like how you tie in SPs balloons, makes it poignant …

    Liked by 1 person

  4. A wonderful response to the Plath line. This is achingly poignant. I think of when my mother died….and in those early months I would hear something, see something, mother’s day cards in stores….and the missing was so strong. The idea of lung bursting with the song…the need to wail the song (the grief),
    clinging to memories (and the helium detail is incredible)…but “I no longer have the voice to sing.”
    This is just a wonderful write.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Very nicely done! A sad ending for those of us getting up in age. I am feeling the same thing. As my hearing gets less and less… singing becomes less and less… now its words and music with a head set!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. “a blackbird’s incidental trills” — what a delightful phrasing! And I was with you all the heart-pounding way, even to the last word. Was it our voices that went, or our youthful exuberance?

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I do relate to this, Kim. Last summer that song in my heart reduced to humming a tune. Nowadays, I can’t even find the tune. I wonder how many people have lost their internal song.

    Liked by 1 person

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