We talk about the child
we can never have -
the invisible child, the ghost-boy,
the tiny Duke of no-place.
No name or religion, we play a game of colour:
what would it be ? Latte ? Mocca ? Teak ?
Black hair tightly curled - stroke it,
a Resurrection Plant!
My nose and chin. Your sense
of direction. A linguist without doubt,
christening the garden flowers
Bunga, Hana, Blomst.
We walk arm-in-arm,watch him play beside the lake.
He feeds the ducks. He eats ice cream.
His green eyes sparkle. His perfect
teeth (yours) glisten.
At night we dream of a wedding
that will never be
observe the proceedings
in our invalid chairs
(because age will surely wither us
but not diminish our pride).
He greets us with a smile,
a butterscotch carnation fixed to his lapel,
kisses his parents firmly on
the cheek. This dutiful son,
he will not be alone. There are
sisters and brothers - ours
but not ours - to help guide him on his way.
As tall as me you say, and moulded
by three cultures. He takes
his bride into his arms
and disappears.
Comments
AdamDeath | June 17, 2009 - 04:45
Excellent - this moved me. Especially loved the lines :
My nose and chin. Your sense
of direction. A linguist without doubt,
christening the garden flowers
Bunga, Hana, Blomst.
I get a vivid sense of the child - and therefore the sense of loss. Thanks,
Adam
lenchenelf | June 17, 2009 - 08:13
A very memorable, moving poem, thanks atb Lena
Jupiter | June 17, 2009 - 08:32
I like this piece although I'm unsure of how to comment on it. Is it a game to pass the time but without pain or is the dream of a wedding line designed to suggest that there is great longing? I guess I'm just not very good at interpreting sometimes ;-).
I would however like to say that I really like the cleverness of
the tiny Duke of no-place. and fully intend to plagiarise and incorporate the idea into my work at the first opportunity ;-) (joke!) lol.
Thanks for an enjoyable read.
Kilb50 | June 17, 2009 - 19:03
Many thanks for your comments Adam, Lena & Jupiter. Much appreciated.
Cavalcaderl | August 18, 2009 - 08:33
New kib50
This is beautfully put
into sadness surrounded
in this poetic tale poem
of real life. I have a book
Raphaelite she is in canoe
and a candle on the stem.
story she's
looking for her
lost love. A young lad at BRIGHTON
AT THE TIME WAS drawing, it from chalks
I ran home to get camera
rain washed away.it
.was amazing copie from a book
I can imagine the child.
so much. x difficult
to comment on
bless you congrats:
on the cherry, you can buy
a cherry brooch on "Amazon"
"Silver-spun-sand" told me.
but hubby got mine of web.
for my 1st Cherry! on
here Abctales
julie cavalcader xx
Read God Bless this child.to
sorry he is now in 40's