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Final Words of a Bereft Poet

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If I could no longer write poetry, I'd have no need of hands, nor eyes weary from weeping, a heart that lies broken, and a soul dead from mourning. ~ by poet I heard the faint echoes of scurrilous snarls, from my guilty conscience as it spoke. Contemptible remarks rightly aimed at me. What truthful shame those words delivered. "Fatuous one, why does your hand quiver, mimicking the trembling lips of a child in fear? You dare call yourself a poet, but you are nothing more than a joke." Culpability, the culprit that tunnels my mind as my passionflowers shrivel upon tender vines. A cold and empty heart has stripped my soul of its hunger and thirst, its craving need to write. It's my own piffling notion of being a poet that causes me to shiver. Yes, of that I am aware. I weep over the planted fragile seedlings. Their mournful cries for help, I hear quite well. Abandoned by their mother, I who begot them, and for this I am filled with remorse and regret. The mockery invades my aching breast, as it ridicules me as a dupe by saying, "A self-proclaimed bard who gives up the task, should put down the quill and live in disgrace." I'm afraid there is no saving grace for me. No nourishing fodder for my verses to thrive. My heart has been broken and is lost in memories. Without the will to write, how will it survive? It only beats in rhythm to keep me half alive. Rows of sprouted thoughts have begun to wither, dying and drying up in a field of plowed grief while I, their neglectful Sower, helplessly sit idle. As time elapses, I mourn, watching them expire. I’ve fallen between the gaps of my unrhymed lines and see only ashes flying and embers fading in the dark where eyes cannot witness my sorrow. I've over watered the seeds of self-doubt with salty sweat trickling from furrowed brow. I've over fertilized them with tears of frustration. It's damnation I seek, not salvation or redemption. Self-condemnation and torment will out. My ink well of impetus seems to have sprung a leak or a new watering hole I should have found. I've not a drop with which to quench their thirst, no refreshing morning dew, nor afternoon shower to give my wilting stems hope of reprieve or relief. I tried to save them, but half-hearted attempts were all in vain. I've caused them too much pain. Not one more rhyme can I rescue while filled with disdain and suffering from this tragic loss. All hope is gone, and my fear is that I cannot clearly express myself in an emotional voice anymore. No wonder my pages remain barren and blank, except for the horrid Rorschach blots I've spilled. My parchment lies in state, shrouded and entombed in pages waiting to decay. There's nothing more to say except for me to whisper in the dark from this hell... "I relinquish my quill to a better hand than mine, setting it free and pray I may be forgiven my folly. I've been given no choice except to blame myself ~ this bereft poet whose hand once wrote in verse. No longer is my poetry worthy of being read."

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Date: 6/12/2024 1:08:00 PM
your passion for writing is one that I hope never leaves you Lin, you are and exceptional poetess - my muse is awol but I am hoping now i am getting better she will return. hugs jan xx
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Date: 6/7/2024 3:40:00 PM
Lin, your writing is highly creative and I admire your versatility. You will always be a poet and you know it! The muse never leaves the poet unless you let her go. Be kind to yourself
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Lin Lane
Date: 6/11/2024 3:58:00 AM
I’ve never claimed a muse, so bad or good is on me. Thanks for your thoughtful remarks, Andrea.
Date: 6/6/2024 4:45:00 PM
Lin, your poetry is a gift and I am so glad you share your wonderful talent with us! So glad this is fiction and you keep writing and posting! -Hugs
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Lin Lane
Date: 6/11/2024 3:56:00 AM
Thank you for such kind thoughts, Tania. Hugs back.
Date: 6/5/2024 5:34:00 AM
Dear Lin, your raw, visceral poem left me breathless and yet saddened. I really feel your anguish as a poet who has lost their voice that rings through every line. Your self-lacerating honesty are both gutting and beautiful. Thank you for sharing this deeply personal, courageous work. I really believe your talent shines even in despair. - Blessings, My Dear Friend, Daniel
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Daniel Henry Rodgers
Date: 6/5/2024 7:51:00 AM
Thanks, Lin. Sometimes I have too much empathy, and it comes through my writing. It is a most wonderful poem my friend and always enjoy reading you. Blessings, Daniel
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Lin Lane
Date: 6/5/2024 5:40:00 AM
Daniel, I've never been shortchanged in finding fuel for writing poetry. I lacerate myself in jest as some would strike their so-called muse. I've never laid claim to having one. I've written many tragic poems that were based on reality... not so in this one. Thanks for reading me.
Date: 6/4/2024 2:53:00 PM
A stunning poem Lin, your skills with language there in lights. The paradox of course is that the speaker is at complete odds with the creator, each line, each stanza confirms why the author is a poet of the highest order...just a fascinating perspective. Somewhat like looking into a mirror that reflects an anti image, quite a brilliant and imaginative treatment. Sorry to tell you my friend, you're stuck with being a poet and a good one.
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Lin Lane
Date: 6/4/2024 4:09:00 PM
Hello, Paul and thank you so sincerely for your complimentary thoughts. "... a poet of the highest order" are shoes too big for me to wear, but I'm honored to even be considered by you... a poet of your caliber. Merci beaucoup.
Date: 6/4/2024 1:44:00 PM
Your poem exemplifies a deep love of writing poetry Lin, and also showcases fine prowess of the English language, your guilty conscience seems to have evoked a beautifully crafted piece here, can I give 2 faves in one day, hell I’m pressing the button anyway, cheers David
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Lin Lane
Date: 6/4/2024 4:07:00 PM
Poetry has been important to me for so many years. I'm pleased to have you as a loyal friend who always gets my meaning and messaging. Thank you for the fave, David. Admin probably wouldn't notice if you pressed 10 times, since they pay little attention to more important things that take place on the site.
Date: 6/4/2024 12:34:00 PM
Lin, your poetry is always worthy of being read, this is really good, keep the ink flowing and the poetry growing… Beryl
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Lin Lane
Date: 6/4/2024 4:05:00 PM
aww, sweet Beryl. You've always been a special lady. Thank you very much.
Date: 6/4/2024 11:34:00 AM
I too appreciate your poetry also Lovely Lin! Sometimes its way above me and my understanding but the ones l do understand are truly amazing and come from a loving heart! ….Debx
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Lin Lane
Date: 6/4/2024 4:04:00 PM
I seriously doubt that you don't get what my lines are meant to convey, Deb. You've such a kind heart and I value our friendship. Thank you.
Date: 6/4/2024 10:41:00 AM
Brilliant writing Lin. I know it's a fictional write. Your poetry is on another level. A fave for me well deserving of a POTD. Tom
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Lin Lane
Date: 6/4/2024 10:50:00 AM
Thank you for having always been supportive of my poetry and of me, Tom. My quote above the poem states that if I couldn't write, I'd be as withered as the seeds I planted. My passion for writing cannot be denied. I'm very grateful that you appreciate my poetry. Hugs, Mr. Mayor.

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