Sweet Daughter Mine

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Thu, 09 Jul 2015
  • 5700 reads
18 comments
 
On my desk she perches... eyes 
of ambergris, amidst a sea of red 
and white, posing with 'the worst
yet best, brass band in Mumbai', 
 
she wrote on a rare, and treasured
postcard  home...
 
the players grouped around her; she
in yellow blouse, rucksack on her back, 
and they in red – plumed helmets shone 
as gold. 
 
Almost as if they knew time, for her
was running short – young as she was;
hence this trip...this 'English lady – hair
the colour of straw, with a wonky smile'.
 
Only now it fades – 
her precious italic hand, stolen 
by the mad march of relentless days. 
 
Such strange creatures we are, but 
we’re all the same – pictures we keep; 
 
like eating honey  
off a switchblade knife.
Certificate 12
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Love

Comments

Submitted by love_writing on

Sweet.. bittersweet.. sharp and poignant.

'hair the colour of straw with a wonky smile'

A most lovely and emotive read. Loved the vibrancy of the Mumbai red and gold.

love_writing

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, LW. Your words mean a lot to me.

Tina

 

Submitted by london_calling79 on

Stunning. The poem, the girl and the final cutting image.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, lc.  Means a lot.

Tina

 

Submitted by jeand on

Hi Tina

Such beautiful words - so emotive. Thank you for sharing your memories with us.

Jean

Jean Day

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Hello there, Jean...and as with everyone, memories are for sharing, and so the thanks is all down to you.

Tina

 

Submitted by scratch on

The last two lines are keepers Tina.  I wish I'd thought of them.  Brilliant as usual.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

I know that feeling, only too well, scratch...especially when I read something penned  'by your own fair hand'smiley.

 

 

Submitted by EB on

'Almost as if they knew time, for her
was running short – young as she was;
hence this trip...this 'English lady – hair
the colour of straw, with a wonky smile'.
 
Only now it fades – 
her precious italic hand, stolen 
by the mad march of relentless days.' This says so much. I didn't like the word 'wonky' - seems too hard, even while showing some resentment on the part of the narrator. I wondered if another word might be more in keeping with the loveliness of the lady - Lopsided maybe? But perhaps too many syllables ? 

You tell a tragic story though this precious postcard snap of time running out, yet at the same time manage to keep it real. As scratch said, the last line packs a punch, we are on a knife edge with our dangerously treasured memories, but wouldn't be without them no matter how much they hurt.

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Hello there, EB, and I so appreciate your reading this, and for sharing your thoughtssmiley

As for the word 'wonky'...it was a favourite word of my daughter's to describe her smile after a tumour on the  parotid gland left surgeons no option but to remove the facial nerve on one side of her face.   Apparently she taught her new found  Indian friends (said band members) this 'new word', when they were trying to find a way to describe her distinctive smile.  Mind you, 'hair the colour of straw', was their own invention, which she found most amusingsmiley

My thanks to you, once again, and you are so right about those memories.

Tina

 

Submitted by EB on

My apologies Tina. I now see the importance of the word. Also, I missed that it was in speech marks. Stupid me!

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Gosh, EB...no apologies necessary, not in the leastsmiley  Hope you have a great weekend, and that the sun shines on you and yours.

Tina

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

It never fails to astound me how well you write poetry Tina, it's like a breath of fresh air on a hot Summer's day.

I could just picture your daughter writing back home of her experiences, how she must have shone, an angel to be sure.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Jenny such lovely things to say.  Thank you, so very much...and as for being that 'breath of fresh air on a hot Summer's day...I was going to say the same about yousmiley

Have a peaceful weekend.

Tina

 

Submitted by Denzella on

Hello Tina,

This is another significant poem to add to your collection.  Beautiful but tragic.  Still you manage to write so well and if the poem concerns your daughter I am always struck by the wistful longing that lies just beneath the surface.  I will read some more tomorrow as I am in desperate need of my Tina fix..

Moya.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Moya...hearing from you is always a bonus. Thank you for your kind and thoughtful words...'wistful longing' just about sums it up.

My best to you, Moya.

Tina

 

Submitted by rayjones on

What a beatuful way to share and remember your daughter, so very sorry, Ray

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Ray, you words mean a lot to me, and I hold them dear to my heart.  My daughter battled cancer since the age of nineteen, so very bravely.  Twenty years later her battle was over, but the inspiration that she was, lives on in the hearts of everyone who knew her.

Thanks, once again.

Tina