The night pressed in with a velvet hand,
I was so tired, you’d understand.
All day the world had sung its song,
But not for me—I did not belong.
The streets were lit, the windows warm,
Yet none could shield me from the storm.
I wore my smile like Sharon's borrowed dress,
While hollow winds moved through my chest.
I thought of spring, I thought of rain,
Of all I loved that could not remain.
There was no anger, only release,
A soft surrender, a will toward peace.
I let the darkness close me in,
It felt like love beneath my skin.
Do not weep, for I am free—sigh,
The world was never meant for me.
They sang to stars, to flowers pale with dew,
To hearts that bled beneath the waning moon;
Yet every song they wove from sorrow grew,
Each note a dirge, each rhyme a fading tune.
The world too heavy, pressing on their soul's,
A crown of thorns their tender temples bore;
Love fled like whispers, leaving them to hold,
And silence reigned where song had dwelt before.
Oh, cruel muse, who blessed them with your fire,
Yet cursed their fragile hearts with too much pain,
You led them, blind, to cliffs of dark desire,
And cast them down in seas of endless rain.
In lonely nights, they felt the stars grow cold,
No voice to soothe the ache of barren skies,
The ink that spilled their griefs a tale retold
Of lives unlit, consumed by unseen love.
Yet still their words endure, though they are gone,
A burning flame no tempest can erase.
Through death, they live—each verse, a tender dawn,
Each line a kiss of beauty's fleeting grace.
Why did they fall? Perhaps to teach us this:
A poet's soul must brave the abyssal deep,
To find the truth in love’s elusive kiss,
And wake the world from its eternal sleep.
The night swallowed her, quiet as the sea,
Where the waves carried whispers, heavy and deep—
Sara, a ripple lost in the currents of time,
A flicker gone dark beneath the moon's hollow eye.
Oceans curled their backs to kiss the blue sky,
Choked on salt and her long drawn out sighs, drowning what they knew—
Her words, her marrowed bones, her soft, dissolving light
Faded brown foam, softly entered the night .
What does the earth remember of her?
The ground never speaks.
A wound wrapped in roots, bruised by forgotten feet,
While people, fleeting shadows, scavenge the shore
For echoes, shells, the small dust of her name.
Only the moon, that pale, silent judge,
Still sees the dance of waves, oceans, and sky—
A rhythm born of grief, endless as her loss,
Turning the world beneath a weeping star.
When will there come soft rain, serene and slow,
To kiss the silent earth and make it bloom?
The skies have whispered tales of falling snow,
But rain will banish all the heart’s deep gloom.
The trees stand still, their branches full and high,
While waiting for the tender rain to weep,
And birds in distant clouds still yearn to fly
Through skies where gentle showers softly fall.
I dream of days when petals wake to hear
The melody of droplets on the leaves,
When silver streams reflect a world made clear,
And night’s despair ian liquid dusk relieves.
O' when will rain descend, and hearts find peace?
Beneath the cloudy veil, I wait to see.
I long for that soft, forgotten song
That rain again will come so I can weep.
My toes are petals, pale and small,
Whispering secrets to the night;
They dance upon the marble floor,
Tracing dreams in silver light.
Each step I take, they softly press
Against the earth, so cool and wide,
They know the songs of summer’s end
And winter’s kiss, where we would hide.
They curl within the velvet sheets,
A gentle prayer in twilight's keep,
They know the hush of midnight winds,
The tender touch of restful sleep.
Oh, silent soldiers of my soul,
You lead me where my heart would go.
Your world is too small for me to live in,
The stars are cramped in your narrow sky,
You hem the moon with shadows so thin,
And still expect not even me to sigh.
Your oceans are pools that barely stir,
No deep tides rise, no wild winds blow,
The rivers are tamed, with banks that aren't full,
And I am lost whenever they cease to flow.
Your gardens are lovely, but walls enclose,
The blooms that fade with the setting sun,
I crave the fields where the wild things grow,
But here, they wither and die.
Your world is too small, too close, too still,
I long for lands that you cannot see,
For in your world, I cannot be filled
The space that calls oh so endlessly.
Grace is the glitter of the morning dew,
A silent dance of sunlight through the trees,
The tender touch of petals kissed by blue,
A song that rides upon the softest breeze.
It is the gentleness of falling leaves,
A moonlit path that leads us through the night,
The solace found in twilight's quiet eves,
A heart that dreams in colors pure and bright.
Grace is the way the world forgives the rain,
The way the stars hold secrets within,
The way the earth forgets its ancient pain,
And blooms anew when winter’s breath is slow.
Grace is the peace that lingers in a sigh,
A fleeting glimpse of heaven passing by.
Purple in the sky, the night is clear,
The quiet waves sigh softly in my ear,
A tender hymn of love the ocean weaves,
As twilight gently falls on whispering leaves.
The sea reflects the sky's amethyst hue,
Each wave a lover’s touch, soft and true,
Their whispers blend with winds that softly sing,
Of distant shores and love’s eternal spring.
Beneath the stars, the ocean’s heart beats slow,
In rhythmic pulses that only lovers know,
The moon’s soft light, a silver veil so fine,
Lover's love so deep where ocean and the sky
then entertwine.
In the night, where dreams and waters blend,
The sea’s embrace is where all sorrows end,
And in its depths, where secrets softly lie,
There’s love eternal, purple in the sky.
The roses wilt in heavy sun,
Their petals frail and worn,
Beneath the sky where shadows run,
And leaves are gently torn.
The laughter of the golden days
Fades softly with the light,
As twilight’s silver fingers raise
The veil of coming night.
A breeze that once was warm and sweet
Now chills the lonely air,
And in the grass where lovers meet,
The silence whispers there.
Oh, summer’s end, you're gentle grief
Lays bare the heart’s own sigh.
For even in the brightest leaf,
We see the colors die.
Sarah Teasdale, a poet of grace,
Her words like whispers filled the space.
Born in the year of eighteen eighty-four,
Her life's tale, forever to explore.
A tender soul with a heart that bled,
In verse, her emotions were widely spread.
Love, nature, and longing her themes,
She painted beauty with eloquent dreams.
Pulitzer Prize, her talent recognized,
Yet her heart still yearned, love unrealized.
Her spirit soared, but darkness prevailed,
Inner battles fought, heartache unveiled.
A fragile soul, her battles unseen,
In her poems, a glimpse of what had been.
Her pen a solace, her voice so pure,
A testament to a life's allure.
A legacy left, her verses abide,
In timeless lines, her spirit resides.
Sarah Teasdale, her biography told,
A poet's journey, forever bold.
Sara Teasdale 'MAIDEN'
_ _ _ _
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After death and to long loves forgotten,
Will I still remember you.
Twilight's dream's,
Dream's of love, we both have left unsaid.
I cannot wait here somewhere there,
While you still love someone here.
And the whispers to her from you that I hear,
Are not those of love about us, in truth that I must bare.
Why should I care about rain and or snow,
About your green leaves that were silver and gold.
Or on a bush on that hill that will never be seen!
Or all of the trees that you climbed as a kid,
But summer was ours by the sea.
But lovely my dear, I really cared, I confess to you that I did.
Taken from me as a leaf caught up tossed around in the wind,
And trapped in a wave, a wave none could see.
There we once we're and now we're both here,
Quite, Silent and still, lost in our love and at peace.
James McLain Saturday, October 28, 2017
My poetry project of Sara Teasdale with music is at my website
Dear Sara Teasdale,
I admire you very much,
I love your poem "Planets"
And ''The dragon alley dutch''
I read a poem in my book,
It's called "The falling Star",
And I must ask you how you wrote,
About things both near and far.
Your imagery is great,
Which no one else can beat,
Your poems are so wonderful,
Creative and complete.
I thank you once again,
I'm sad that you're now gone,
Your works were just so beautiful,
Just like a summer dawn!
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