Poem: Free Verse – “Neverland and Celesetial Beings” #amwriting #poetry 


http://www.science.nationalgeographic.com

——–

The words flitted through my head, 

As many words, words which may never be said. 

I felt the forms of celestial beings, 

The sky alight, starlight and star bright. 

Twinkling stars forever in their journey of millions to ten billion years, 

Black holes it would seem, a stars end, and another beginning. 

Like the words of poets, of mortal men, 

Glimmering sheen; spoken out loud,

Perhaps, for thousands of years. 

One day all words will flicker out, 

One day no one will remember the words, 

Said eons ago, but for His words; the designer, 

All other words fade to pitch, disappear into black holes. 

We wish for an eternity, yet we dream of fantastic world’s — Neverlands,

Our own earth to flawed to be genuine.

—–

I wonder what words we remember most? 

Are they the words of love and endearment? 

Or the words of intense, raging emotions?

The times we screamed as teenagers,

Angry at life, our parents the world.

Or the times we shrieked, like banshees, for our broken hearts. 

Are they words said at a loved ones funeral?

Or are those words always covered up, oozing untruth? 

Maybe, they’re the words of passion and heat? 

Said between, blissful, exultant kisses? 

Were these words in any situation real? 

Said to make us feel better, to feel okay, 

To make us feel that the world was right? 

Yet we keep spinning in our thoughts, beneath the heavens,

Residents of former Eden, spanning the globe. 

Beneath celestial lights, the greatest burning blasts of sun a flame. 

The stars we wish, mean there is and was a Neverland, 

Perhaps, a flying PeterPan to lead us? 

But Wendy, she wisely came back to earth; 

As Wendy, I stay grounded in reality. 

In a necklace around my neck, 

Wearing pixie dust, my hope —

That anyone can learn to fly, and one day find their forever home.

That any child has a home, where they are loved and safe. 

Hoping no one is a lost boy, 

Not without support and a fighting spirit, 

To carry on; their feet on the ground like Wendy — the mother. 

——

Oh stars spinning round the earth, you glow brighter —

Than the pixie dust of tinkerbelle’s sacrifice. 

Brighter than the gleaming moon, off of Captain Hook’s hook, 

Gleam keener than the crocodile’s eyes,  who follows Hook relentlessly.

Who wants to run forever from crocodiles? 

When they have a taste for your flesh, 

They want to devour you whole and escape is a distant goal. 

In real life, they’re too many crocodiles, 

Beneath celestial beings of the universe, in shimmering luminescence. 

Exist terrible creatures of horror and disease, 

Of hate and harms if every kind.

Those whose souls are so filthy, 

You would think they could never be clean.

But the filthy harmers, are rather variant from Hook’s crocodile, 

Imagine the music playing when the Crocadile comes, Disney made famous. 

The ticking of the clock, the crocodile had eaten, 

The metaphor for time always clicking, 

It’s heels along with Captain Hook’s boots.

So we discover, even if we’re Peter Pan, 

Life is not Neverland; even in Neverland, time keeps on ticking by. 

We cannot fly with Tinkerbelle’s pixie dust, 

Everyone and everything ages; we cannot escape this, 

If we were created from a black hole — a Big Bang —

A gigantic vacuum in reverse. 

Maybe, we are as stars gleaming only a moment? 

Mere seconds in reality, than forever, dying out. 

Re-existing in our heavenly home, 

If we followed that one star to the Manger.

And even Peter Pan chose one day, 

To stay home in the real world. 

He realized in an epiphany, eternity was too long to live as a child. 

He saw eternities vastness, in his old -young eyes, 

And said most clearly: “One day I want to die.” 

——

Peter Pan (Disney) – Crocodile Music

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Advertisements

Poem: Tonight


There is no where to go; when you can only say ‘no.’And look down the street knowing you’ll never go that way.

When a desire to say ‘yes’ leaves quietly, and hides in the chamber of the soul. I think too much and write to pour, misery into the air, to see it dissipate. 

Come out tonight, it use to be my delight; now I can’t even drink wine alone, without the proper wine opener.

And I’d be glad to spend some time among friends; but life now has a harsher bent. And living feels so alone. 

It would deplete me to go out, for just an hour or two; the minute I can’t handle it  I start to feel sick.

The moon is in the sky, a lunar delight; it covers my tears, and holds my fears. And it is my ill, the night. 

The stars sparkle vividly; they’re bright spots of joy. But I haven’t seen them, it’s been far too long.

Fire in the nightmare sky, in the breeze, in the house; fire yearns to build up and burn through everything. 

But kept in quiet places, fire can only heat the coals of a life, lost before, it was ever born. It simmers out to ash. 

Unravel life, it’s too complicated, to fix my soul, to fix my body; I’m thirty-years-old tired and worn. 

So, if stay at home again tonight. While the world is alive and I’m still as twilight. I will not mourn, it was never my night.

I’m not the same as I was before, times have changed and barely do I see the sky in blinding starlight.

I’m use to indoor lights that flick off and say goodnight, sleep well, or suffer more.