Posts Tagged ‘memories’

Ravages of Time

Ravages of Time
By Nina Spink

Where is that fresh faced boy
Without a care in the world
save for the latest toy
and the girl in his dreams?
Who saw only challenges and not risk.
His unquenchable thirst for life,
Eager and strong, vital
With limbs that obeyed his thoughts
Now only give way to persuasion and effort.
When food was luscious
Now without taste, a cardboard shell.
Those bright eyes lost to faded and dull sight.
A sharp mind, now struggling to recall

But sit again on a balmy night in earshot of the ocean call
Listen once more to the conversation of the sea
Feel the wind upon those weathered cheeks
And be transported back to the heady days of youth
To brush a stray lock from upturned lips
And to cup her face between two palms
So there in rapture gaze on a love once held
Fragile, delicate but soon to fade
Yet in a memory lingers long … never to be forgotten.


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The Flower of the Garden Gate

by Nina Spink

I grew flowers in my garden
Tending them with love and care
They grew beautiful and strong
Their fragrance filled the air

They were a joy to look on
Both inside and without
The sun displayed their beauty
The rain their scent would shout

My garden was a walled one
With safety held inside
No weeds or exotics ventured
To spoil or there reside

The sun shone and the rain fell
Each season throughout the year
Then one Summer warm and gentle
A new species did appear

Attracted by its fragility
Charmed by its beguiling shape
Its strange and vibrant colours
It adorned my garden gate

And this lovingly I tended
Its frail nature nurtured strong
Enticing birds and bees and beetles
My garden full with song

I grew to love its strangeness
Its raw yet heady perfume
Surprised at passions stirring
A most intoxicating bloom

I didn’t see its tendrils
Spread out to hold me fast
Mistook them for a friendship
Not heart’s sole deadly grasp

All Summer long I lingered
Within the garden safe
Each day and night I’d visit
The flower of the garden gate

Never tiring of its beauty
Enchanted within its scheme
To have found my perfect blossom
I was happy in extreme

As Summer languished idly
My blooms that year to die
I watched them fade before me
Not realizing, so would I

Spring green brought forth its beauty
Yet again my gardens bloom
More beautiful than ever
But lacked that strange perfume

Though many a year has passed
Through sunshine, wind and rain
My gardens filled with flowers
No gate flower appeared again

Now Winter visits my garden
Earth covered with blanket deep
I mourn the passing Summers
For Spring my eyes do weep

And oft times when I glance back
Once beauty held my being
Hot tears of silent longing
Endless flows from eyes unseeing

Despite my desperate yearning
and memories long since held
I am blessed it came to visit
if only once, it dwelled

I should not bewail its passing
But rejoice in err it came
Buying untold joy and passion
Its payment … enduring pain

I will forever treasure
The gift of love so great
With wonder tinged with sadness
Oh! my flower of the garden gate

April 2009

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Damaged Goods

by Nina Spink

Under cover of night, shadows steal,

disfigured and lame, two damaged worlds meet,
taking shelter within each others wounds.
Shielded from harm, a temporary respite.
The pain and hurt carried deep within,
parcelled and neatly ribboned,
masking the grotesque of the memories inside,
the resulting scars fleetingly glimpsed .

Toxins released in the inevitable purge,
disfigured and tortured, the soul emerges,
war weary and battle scarred.
Vulnerable and fragile stands naked,
quaking, distrustfully and emotionally shredded.

Slowly, apprehensively as a child taking first steps,
reaching out to a kindred mind, to be guided, encouraged.

The dark and frayed canvass gives way to a bright many faceted mural,
bejeweled grass trapping the morning sun
offering warmth and energy to the weary soul.
Therein lies hope of a new day,
a clean slate, devoid of the baggage of the night before.

Hovering clouds disturbed by the Autumn breeze,
breathes new life,
A promise of clearer days ahead,
beckoning new pastures, ripe fruits for the plucking.
A re-balance of the distortion in prior years of
the desolate barren land of backbreaking
that stretched far behind into the distant past,
kept prisoner within ones mind
Where only Straight jacketed days extended endlessly ahead.

Now, the gold horizon ever tempting in its infinity,
sends whispers to caress the heart and stroke tired limbs.
Therein lies a promise of self worth and purpose just for the taking.
Fear and trepidation ….bravely …. nervously
I stumble forward to grasp.

Nina Spink

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