Patrick, old and wise, woke to an ocean of fears,
A mountain of dread, but there was a smile through tears,
In his frail hands he held a silvery jewel,
A necklace with 13 Akoya pearls on it,
It had belonged to his dear wife who passed away,
As he touched each pearl a ghostly vision appeared,
The first was a beautiful young woman with golden hair,
“Chase me down through the valley chase me down to the sea,
I’ll let you catch me, under the banyan tree.”
Poor old Patrick drew the necklace to his chest,
And laid his tired head on a feathered pillow to rest.
After a soft plume of time he woke again and smiled,
He held the second pearl in his fingers tight as he could.
Before him stood a black stallion that kicked and kicked,
The rider shouted at him from on high,
“Run you loathsome coward, run you pitiful apology,
I will run you to the ground under the banyan tree.”
Shivering with fear he curled up like a child.
The next morning he opened his weary eyes,
With the shiny necklace still near his trembling heart.
He couldn’t resist touching the third pearl.
Nothing happened for a while, but eventually an angel spoke to him,
“Come with me, my darling, come with me to the sea,
I will sing you psalms under the banyan tree.”
He quickly held the fourth gem as joy rose within him;
It was a child with a cheeky grin from ear to ear,
“Come with me my father, come with me to the sea,
I will win at hopscotch, under the banyan tree.
His memories shined like the moon in full,
As he left the lonely bed and walked outside.
Ages past it seemed and he reached the sea,
His toes were washed with salty blue water.
A giant storm came over him and he looked for shelter.
“Come with me, my son, come away from the sea,
And I will protect you, under the banyan tree.
-
Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: August 26th, 2023 00:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
Offline)
Comments2
Your story telling is mind-blogging and dramatic. This is dramatic poetry... The last two lines must have been from the Lord. There is a saying : in your sleep or dream if some spirit-like thing asks you to follow it, never do so. When my Dad was terminally ill, he said to me once : "I am going to paradise. Want to come with me ?..." "No," I said : "You go alone !..." Although I was looking after him, I was not in a hurry for that fictitious paradise trip. Soman Ragavan. 26 August, 2023.
My second batch of comments on the poem "The pearl necklace” by David Wakeling
See my first batch of comments on this poem.
In his last days, my Dad had plenty of time think about many things. Even in the grip of dementia and Alzheimer, he came up with a masterstroke… He said he was going to paradise and asked if I wanted to join him… But, as I had known him for some 50 years, I was on my guard… A trip to paradise : a foolish or gullible fellow might fall for that. There is a saying : “You can always take one with you.” In your final days, being beyond others’ control, you have the possibility to take one with you. In one grand finale, the old man wanted to shove me into some terminal trap from which I would never escape. Let’s call a spade a spade : the survival instinct is stronger than paternal links… (If the survival instinct is weaker in any circumstance, the species disappears over time… Or, at least that particular individual is history…) In his last moments, if a relative of yours dies clasping your hands, what is the next thing you will do ? Will you say : “OK, I am ready to die, take me with you to the grave” ?!... Man, you will struggle to free yourself. For the sake of argument, even when attending a funeral, if the “dead” suddenly rises, what do you do ?!... At one moment you were pleading with him to come back : when he does so effectively, you cut and run for dear life’s sake !... Hello !… Again, see my poems “Full circle” on this site and “Of ashes and waves” on allpoetry.com Both poems are about my Dad. Soman Ragavan. 26 August, 2023.
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