The Sunday Muse #68
Thank you Carrie for this interesting prompt.
It prompted a bit of a 'tear jerker' response, so I advise a box of tissues.
Photography by Edouard Boubat
Mamma, I hear the waves breaking gently onto a shingled shore,
The sea speaks to me and tells me all our hidden secrets.
Like the times I paddled and it gently kissed my feet,
And cooled me on those hot lazy sunny afternoons.
The times I ran and splashed all along that boiling, frothy surf,
When the air resounded with my laughter and the seagulls swooped and smiled.
It held me gently as I swam ashore that kind and unkind day,
It picked me up and helped me with its loving tide.
It tried so hard to help my Daddy too,
And fought an undercurrent which cruelly took him out to sea.
It's incoming tide lost influence, then the fight eclipsed with sadness,
And my Daddy from that day became just a loving memory.
The shell echoed my loss and with a sympathetic voice,
Crying endless tears of sorrow as each wave caressed and lapped the shore.
The shell echoed my loss and with a sympathetic voice,
Crying endless tears of sorrow as each wave caressed and lapped the shore.
Eddie Bluelights
10 August 2019
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The ocean can be both kind and cruel, comforting or cold. A very sad loss.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Lori
DeleteA sad tale.
ReplyDeleteYes, indeed.
DeleteAs Lori said perfectly, the ocean is bittersweet. You have captured both sides of it beautifully in this poem Eddie. Wonderful and lovely writing, and yes, I needed tissues. :-(
ReplyDeleteThanks, Carrie.
DeleteNot sure why it developed like that but I went with the flow and where the keys took me.
Bless you my kind, wise friend
ReplyDeleteHello, Cloudia, so pleased to see you.
DeleteThank you for your kind comment?
Hi Eddie - those sorts of losses must be so difficult to deal with ... let alone loss of a loved one. Take care ... Hilary
ReplyDeleteThanks Hilary. 😊
DeleteThis is beautiful and heartbreaking, Eddie.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Karen, always great to see you here. I will visit and see your latest post(s) tomorrow. :)
DeletePoignant and full of regret.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Linda. Good to meet you . . :)
DeleteTo still be able to hear the waves as hopeful in sorrow; a strong and melancholy poem.
ReplyDeleteThanks Chrissa. I am encouraged . . :)
DeleteOh my, this was so sad and beautifully written, Eddie. The two end lines are powerful.
ReplyDeleteThank you Sara :)
DeleteThis brought tears. Each person holds their personal seashell story. It is true the sea can be kind and cruel.
ReplyDeleteThank you Susie.
DeleteYes, the sea can be both kind and cruel.
This story is entirely imaginary, so fortunately it is not my story . . . :)
You are a true talent. There. I said it.
ReplyDeleteHi Blue, great to see you. And thanks.
Delete...this is a story I believe you made up, however, so very true for some. Heart wrenching.
ReplyDeleteThank you Margaret. Yes, unfortunately so. . . :)
DeleteHi Eddie, not been here for some time.
ReplyDeleteA very well written piece capturing the different emotions of the sea ... and child. Well done.
Mary!!! So wonderful to see you, just like old times at Magpie Tales . . . Thank you for your generous comment. Popping over to see your's. . . :)
DeleteMy Gran kept a shell like that under her upright piano, of all places! It used to nestle on the bar between the frame and the right-front 'leg' - if that's the correct terminology. I'm not sure which held most fascination - the shell or the piano keys - both magic sounds...
ReplyDeleteThanks, Pen. Yes both magic I would think.
Delete