refining the marshes where gardens struck
gold in the muck of ages
and though time pieces fail, yet there is honeysuckle
tendrils can always tangle up a jungle maze
erasing boundaries beyond limitation 

a strange creation now with the labyrinth gone
Asterion bewildered by such sudden wilderness
harnessed man and beast to seven sisterly stars
each Fall discharging balefully with fine meteoric ire
fireballs of Halloween where the fleet periodic comet
posits over and again indivisibility of an eliptical river 

one mirador with cursory views of long gone faces
can yet trace all who've outlived reflection
some are still here to hear the silent fountain
fortune's rusty squeak of roundabout and swing
giddy giggling children buried in nettles
tennis balls mislaid and rope moldering in a rubbish skip
I go tip-toeing around nostalgia for the lost park

33 thoughts on “the lost park”

1. Beautifully worded poem, of nature and astronomy, a nostalgia of sorts. Greetings.

   1. and the chance to weave some mythology of the minotaur

2. I love how you remember it… so much change in our lives and we need the memories.

   1. lost childhoods and time past woven into the eternal circle of Borges’ elegy

3. I love the seven sisterly stars…..and the tiptoing around nostalgia. I know that tiptoing. Smiles.

   1. The sisters are the clue to the Minotaur! Nostalgia can be cloying so we have to tread lightly Sherry

4. Somehow this made me think of the temple of Angkor Wat, lost in the jungle. Great read!

   1. Read the Borges poem & easier to see the wood for the trees 😉

5. I enjoyed reading your poem

   1. Thank you

6. This has such poise about it…elegant phrasing lifting itself from the page to make you stop and read again and then smile a smile that says ‘i wish i’d written that’

   1. This has to be one of the most heartening comments Paul – many thanks

7. Beautifully penned piece!

   1. Really appreciate your appreciation- thank you

8. Such nostalgia for the lost park….brings back memories especially the squeaky swings.

   ‘some are still here to hear the silent fountain
   fortune’s rusty squeak of roundabout and swing
   giddy giggling children buried in nettles
   tennis balls mislaid and rope moldering in a rubbish skip
   I go tip-toeing around nostalgia for the lost park’

   1. I guess we all have a lost park somewhere Donna

9. A beautiful response to your source of inspiration,.

   1. thank you Rosemary – its a way of discovering more poets and giving me a better understanding of the poems

10. Memories are treasures, and when they’ve been touched by the words of Borges even more so… 🙂

    1. and as he says “All are things of the past. Or are they? “

       1. Yes!

11. What strange beauty there is being lost both in the scene you created and the words playing with us as in childish dreams.

    1. you picked up so well on how I tried to weave the poem- thank you

12. Wow a most elegant poem
    “harnessed man and beast to seven sisterly stars” love this and this
    “the silent fountain, fortune’s rusty squeak of roundabout and swing”

    1. thank you and welcome – by the way, that first one is a reference to Taurus and the Pleiades

13. Especially enjoyed the last stanza…

    1. one we can all relate to 🙂

14. I go tip-toeing around
    nostalgia for the lost park

    It gives lots of personal satisfaction to be remembering all those times of old. Great way of narration, Laura!

    Hank

    1. and some pain and consternation too I think Hank

15. I love this!❤️ Especially that last stanza 😀

    1. yes came over all wistful there Sanaa

16. I enjoyed the mythology and the way you wove this poem. I like the idea of tiptoeing around nostalgia!

    1. That’s good to know Mary – I have a soft spot for mythology – not least the Minotaur/Asterion

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