The deckchairs incessantly flapped, black and white
stripes in the brisk, east wind, where an old man
doggedly sat, wrapped in his coat made from best
Harris tweed – flecked brown and green, blowing free.
Each day he would stroll to the sea, walking arm-in-arm
with ghosts of the past, where he and his wife would rest
for a while drinking camomile tea from a cream-coloured
flask with cucumber sandwiches, occasionally.
He smiled as he watched a small child in blue water-wings
shyly flirt with the shore, looking for treasures he’d often
hunt for like barnacled crabs and black knobbly seaweed
that went pop in one’s fingers. Winced as a pain shot
through his jaw – loosened his scarf; his breath rasped
short and sharp; clasped his fist to his chest.
In a moment it passed as the girl with the water-wings
knelt down by his chair.
“You OK?” she asked. "I didn’t mean to stare. If you like
you could watch me. I’ve just learned how to swim …
and you looked a bit lonely,” as she stared up at him
with wide eyes brimful of tomorrows.
“I’d be glad to,” he replied as she threw him the wings.
“Now I can swim, I shan’t be needing these!”
‘Must be in my second childhood,’ the old man mused,
as he watched her chase the waves, which reminded him
of something his father used to say, “Childhood’s a place,
not a time.” Then, in a trice, she was lost from his sight.
With a gulp and a splutter, a wave had knocked her over,
but she’d soon jumped up again, large as life. Then,
that stabbing pain again, like someone dug a knife
between his ribs. As he rushed to help, how he wished
he’d learned to swim. “Swim for me,” breathlessly he yelled.
“Come and get yourself dried!” called her mother, anxiously.
It will soon be time for tea. Thank the gentleman, but nicely.”
“The pleasure’s been all mine,” he replied.
He waved goodbye and watched them go, as the sun
hung low – an orange ball. He walked out to catch it
as it sunk into the sea. Water lapped cool about his waist –
the wet sand, soft beneath his feet. A backward glance
to the beach – the little girl standing there.
“Don’t worry about me,” he cried. “I’ll be quite alright.
I’ve got my wings and though I don’t know how to swim,
you taught me how to fly.”
Comments
tamara (not verified) | January 29, 2009 - 22:39
Absolutely beautiful Tina,
always a breath of fresh air to read each one of your unique poems.
So very many wonderous lines but one that stood out for me-
'He smiled as he watched a small child in blue-water wings flirt with the shore.'
'Flirt with the shore,' struck a chord with me as with all the imagery in your work,I feel like during my reading journey,I am actually there.
The final stanza is incredible and wraps up the whole piece perfectly.
Lynne.x
Nathan Bednarek | January 29, 2009 - 22:50
I think this is your best piece dear Tina. A true masterpiece- this is the kind of writing that keeps poetry alive.
What I love the most about this poem is that it feels truly alive- as if I were the man. This poem makes me feel powerless, makes me submit to its charm.
I must say that this is one of the most beautiful poems I've read in a long, long time and not just on abctales.
The ending is so warm and so peaceful- the feeling almost flies off the page just like the man.
I thank you for posting this.
Love, Nathan.
threeleafshamrock | January 30, 2009 - 01:30
Wow Tina, if you don't wake up tomorrow and find a cherry growing among the seaweed, there is something amiss. Great stuff
Chris X
Bradene | January 30, 2009 - 15:20
This is one super story Tina This for me was a classic passage:- "You OK?” she asked. I didn’t mean to stare. If you like you could watch me. I’ve just learned how to swim …
and you looked a bit lonely,” as she stared up at him
with wide eyes brimful of tomorrows.
Eyes brimful of tomorrows absolutely classic. Val x
MistakenMagic | January 30, 2009 - 17:43
This is so beautiful Tina, I'm speechless!
Though I have enough breath to say that I loved the emphasis on the word 'wings' and the calm, subdued ending that brought the whole poem to a brilliant close, just like the sunset described!
I agree with Chris - I'm waiting for that cherry!
Magic xxxx
jennifer | January 31, 2009 - 22:15
Just brilliant,
especially:
'with cucumber sandwiches, occasionally.'
and
'with wide eyes brimful of tomorrows.'
Just to note that, once or twice, you forget to re-open the inverted commas after the interjection of the 'she said' type stuff..
Truly magical - I could picture the scene and the emotion was powerful, very much so...it oozed from the lines.
J x
Silver Spun Sand | January 31, 2009 - 23:34
It is always a breath of fresh air to hear your inspired comments,Tamara. Thank you for reading and taking it on board so deeply.
Tina x
Silver Spun Sand | January 31, 2009 - 23:36
... and I thank you for all you said, Nathan. You are a great encouragement ... and we, all of us, need much of that.
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | January 31, 2009 - 23:38
I really do have a thing about seaweed. Funny you should mention that. And cherries? Now there's another thing!!! My thanks to you;-)
Tina X
Silver Spun Sand | January 31, 2009 - 23:47
Jennifer - you are a STAR! A true pro and no mistake. Thank you for taking the time out to read and for your expertise and empathy.
T xx
Silver Spun Sand | January 31, 2009 - 23:50
Magic ... you are just that. Thank you for reading and for liking sunsets;-)
Tina xxxxx
MistakenMagic | February 2, 2009 - 13:37
A cherry! They took their time didn't they? Well done Tina! Well deserved!
Magic xxxxx
Silver Spun Sand | February 2, 2009 - 18:04
Magic - thank you:-)
Tina xxx
Nathan Bednarek | February 7, 2009 - 19:50
Ha! The poem of the week! I thought this would be picked as the weekly winner ;-)
Well done again for writing this amazing piece of poetry.
Love, Nathan.
Silver Spun Sand | February 8, 2009 - 08:41
Thanks so much, Nathan. This poem is very dear to my heart so it was a real bonus.
Have a peaceful weekend.
Love, Tina x