“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.
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! 💝💝
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are so generous with your comments, Sanaa, thank you so much. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are most welcome! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
So sad when the melody is no longer there… to me this tells me of how we can only relate to the rational side of life (eat, drink and sleep) having lost the songs of emotions. Fortunately, as poets, we know words really can sing
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’m clinging to poetry and music, but so sad that I can’t sing any more,, one thing I loved to do.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This made me think of gatherings of people – something I miss so much. It’s like the world has been turned down. Poignant.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I couldn’t cope with a crowd of people now, even though I miss the excitement of a gig or a festival. I’m content to relive it in my memories.
LikeLike
That ending is majestic, Kim. Loved it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Jane!
LikeLiked by 1 person
And curtains laced with diamonds, dear for you
And all the Roman noblemen for you
LikeLiked by 1 person
Swoop swoop.
LikeLike
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I always enjoy your comments, Ron.
LikeLike
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 …
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Kate!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Poignant lament. Let us hope for spring and new songs.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Lisa!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Lill, for getting between the lines.
LikeLike
There are some lovely lines in here,
(and some classic Lou, too. What could be better?)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Cheers Nick!
LikeLike
I stopped there at the middle lines – to miss the crowds – all that sweaty yelling – to feel melancholy for a moment in this lovely piece.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for such a thoughtful comment, Peter.
LikeLike
I love this! You nailed the realization of aging and memories are all that’s left. Wonderful writing, Kim.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much!
LikeLike
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!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Dwight. I used to sing all the time, even in public, and was in a rock choir, which I miss.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, aging has its limitations doesn’t it?
LikeLiked by 1 person
The closing lines made me want to cry, I feel this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much! I made myself cry!
LikeLike
Well that’s both beautiful and sad 😢
I enjoyed this nod to the original poem!
-David
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much, David!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It doesn’t take much to bring those melodies to mind. The amazing thing to me is that I still remember all the words. (K)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Me too!
LikeLiked by 1 person
“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?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Dora. I think it was a bit of both.
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I cling to memories like helium
escaping from a bright balloon.
Love this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hearts beating to the same rhythm … yes. Forever.
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLike