Portrait of a Romantic
By: A. S. J. Tessimond
He is in love with the land that is always over The next hill and the next, with the bird that is never Caught, with the room beyond the looking-glass. He likes the half-hid, the half-heard, the half-lit, The man in the fog, the road without an ending, Stray pieces of torn words to piece together. He is well aware that man is always lonely, Listening for an echo of his cry, crying for the moon, Making the moon his mirror, weeping in the night. He often dives in the deep-sea undertow Of the dark and dreaming mind. He turns at corners, Twists on his heel to trap his following shadow. He is haunted by the face behind the face. He searches for last frontiers and lost doors. He tries to climb the wall around the world.
Tessimond was an English poet born on July 19, 1902, in Birkenhead, Cheshire, England, and died on May 13, 1962, in Chelsea, London.
Tessimond's poetry often explored themes of love, loss, existentialism, and the vast complexity of the human condition. He published several collections of poetry during his lifetime, including "Graves and Resurrections" (1934) and "Selections" (1941). Despite never achieving widespread fame during his lifetime, Tessimond's poetic works have provoked increased attention and appreciation in later years. He is considered by many as one of the great English poets of the 20th century.
For me, the poem's first half beautifully captures the mystery of this life. What is over the hill? Where did the free bird fly? Where will the road lead to next? How can I fit together a string of words to express myself, words that, no matter how well-laid side by side, still miss something?
Then the sharp pivot, the way in which the vastness of the mystery can become overwhelming and, at the same time, suffocating. Can we rest comfortably in not-knowing, not-attaining?
What a terrific poem for this Sunday. Thank you.
I've read a lot of poetry but never heard of Tessimond - amazing -- so thank you very much for introducing me to him. This particular poem I will commit to memory and add it to my repertoire for the occasional poetry recitals I give. The first two lines reminded me of Sheenagh Pugh's poem "What If This Road?" The poem delves into the introspective mindset of the introvert, something with which I have a long-standing affinity.