May she rest in peace, yet her verse never cease ... Donna J. Fennel
"Where is the life that I recognize? Gone away ..."
A POETESS’ EPITAPH® Autobiographical poetry by Donna J. Fennel.
Quilled on this 20th day of February, 2003.
Revised by a winking fireside on March 27, 2006.
I truly seek to make my mark in time with rhyme ~
Hoping it will foster unity of the races of mankind.
Alas, the poetry men doth pen survives long after them.
Yet their ballads are oft buried with their brittle bones.
Companion to flesh, a fragrance fresh of sonnet or hymn ~
Lingers beyond its author, who lay so alone and unknown.
Comes darkest hour, when skeleton turns sinewy and weak ~
For heaven knows, eyes must close for the phantasm of prose.
Too rapidly, the vigor drains from her now fleshless physique ~
As perpetual care prepares the poetess’ lair for her final repose.
Yet her virtuous verse abides, ironically immune to Sire Death ~
It inspires lives and everlastingly thrives, as the generations read.
Her poetry withers not; from it remains an immortalized breath ~
When her limbs lie lithe and low, and her veins can no longer bleed.
Time spirals, yet her verse still seeks solace to comfort those alone ~
As another audience awaits with ardor for this spectered sorceress.
Tho now entombed, her womb protects within its sanguinary throne ~
Her consecrated shroud for her crowd reveals serendipitous artfulness.
Titillating tales she once wove, the stars now stoop forward to hear ~
While soaring sparrows, in awe, suspend staccato in sweetest song.
Tho her soul now leaves her audience reads, as vexations disappear.
All the while, her enchanting poetic hallmark doth the spell prolong.
For her you should naught grieve; although Earth the poetess did leave.
Before her last breath, as she saw Death, her hope was legacy be left.
In hearts and minds of humankind, while her archives motivated lives.
Fulfilling her quest with quill at breast; appealing through poetic healing.
Oft the poetess was bless'd of her effortless prose echelon, and yet ~
Whence she gravitated away from her prophetic poetic promise bereft
There evolved rampart of rueful regret from her insipid, palled parapet
Now longing for legacy beyond death, she bequeaths guests sonnets.
The poetess’ dream is that you heed her message, yea do not berate ~
Finding one’s path towards enlightenment, of which verse does initiate.
Tho sometimes her rhetoric possesses theme unabashed and uncouth
Know well spells and quells she tells mean to reveal reality and truth.
Alas, one need not search beyond to learn what longed within her soul ~
For 'midst cyber archives, she sought to please and appease all lives.
With ardent guise through verbal surprise, spirit was released long ago.
Audience, mourn naught preordained poetess, for in hearts she grows.
Her poetry lives on, tho she will be gone by brink of the morn’s dawn ~
When willows weep and night birds wail, know she wrote of them in life.
If there come day of world peace, realize she rejoices in hymnal song ~
Now ‘mongst angelic poets, she quills ere dolefully like a widowed wife.
As intrepid souls mankind, in time, is destined to travel closing portal ~
Yet for poets, as we know it, our final verse we quill becomes immortal.
For those among us who learn late? We wonder if it was worth the wait ~
Till we entered Heaven’s Gate, would us our audience emulate and adulate.
"In the attitude of silence, the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness. Our life is a long and arduous quest after truth."
~ Mahatma Gandhi ~
"I attempt to make my mark in time with rhyme, wistfully weaving my worddom to the world sublime. I seek to soothe tormented souls, instilling hope in hearts to make them whole."
~ Donna J. Fennel – 2005 ~
"While spirits and hearts we mend through the compassion, empathy, love and respect we lend, know that His angels God will send."
~ Donna J. Fennel - December 27, 2005 ~
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"Every man contemplates an angel in his future self."
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson ~
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