Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Release

Beads fall to my feet in slow motion
only to rise mockingly as if
they could recapture their well worn
position at the hollow of my neck.

Slowly their rebound subsides
into tiny leaps. Then they roll
out of sight beneath the chair
where my mother never sat.

Tears that strangled my throat
rain to the soft pine floor.
They don’t rise to taunt me
but splatter into stars.

© 2004 Joanne Elliott

17 comments:

  1. every stanza is awesome.. nice poem & imagery!

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  2. dang...excellent imagery...the contrast in the beads to the tears...and the tears bursting like stars...love it....

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  3. the chair where my mother never sat..love the transition in your verse..like bri - beads to tears to stars..like a chain reaction in slow motion..

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  4. I love the image of the chair that she never sat in...sad....

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  5. The first two stanzas brought so strong a sense of multiple small regrets, each with a life of their own, in the narrator's relation with her mother. Nicely done.

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  6. Sometimes less is more, here overwhelmingly so. Beautiful, moving writing.

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  7. Very nice transformation of images surrounding tears and sadness in this one. Enjoyed it.

    -Ravenblack
    http://theotherdayplace.blogspot.com

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  8. the blessed transformation of soul-felt weeping...

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  9. Wow, this one hits with great force - in tragic burst of ghosts and tears; the few images most hauntingly rendered. Marvelous.

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  10. like the subtle but powerful lines.. lovely share ~

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  11. The imagery is beautifully orchestrated in this, the end line of the "tears splashing into stars" is really quite breathtaking. Lovely write ~ Rose

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  12. Strangely when I read the first stanza I thought 'beads of sweat' and wondered why they would bounce - quickly corrected my course in the second stanza only to find, and be arrested by, those great star tears in the third.

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  13. Wow! Brilliant imagery here. I could visualise the event and was deeply moved by your evocative conclusion. Great write.

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  14. Joanne, what a beautiful picture in your words. Rebounding... on the floor... your neck... if you lived it... I want to give you a hug.

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  15. Dear Joanne

    Its lovely, emotional and perfect imagery....
    loved your lines...

    'They don’t rise to taunt me
    but splatter into stars.'

    So emotional. Thanks for sharing...

    Shashi
    ॐ नमः शिवाय
    Om Namah Shivaya
    http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/11/whispers-fire-faayar-faayaar-dedicated.html
    At Twitter @VerseEveryDay

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  16. O. My.G_d, Joanne, this reeled me across the dance floor before I ever knew I was on my feet and being pulled into the music of your words.

    The chair she never sat on...

    The beads splattering into stars...

    To say this is great would pale the moon.

    I think YOUR sidebar button will be the 2nd next one to appear on my site!

    xo

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