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Àŧùl Dec 2014
I grow even older,
Every wretched birthday,
I am not contented,
Even I wanted to be Peter,
I want to be Peter Pan,
Never wanting to grow older,
I want to die young,
Not in the decay of old age.

Happy Birthday Atul!

But I have no aim in life,
Have completed 24 years of age,
But not a single person for me,
Who loves my originality,
My real self - the real me.

At first they come,
And then they leave,
They leave behind a scar.
I've completed 24 years of my life today on 23rd of December, 2014.

My time of birth was 8:50 pm IST.

IST or Indian Standard Time is +5:30 hours GMT.

My HP Poem #710
©Atul Kaushal
Abigail Shaw Dec 2014
12 in the dark, I sit awake by the window,
Across from Hyde Park, and the feel of the wind oh,
Sparking a bark, Nana's remarking from below,
Canine matriarch against the boy with no shadow,
Time's flickering by and I begin to rust,
Consumed, I'm high with lust just for pixie dust,
But to fly you must be robust and adjust,
And I can't, though I try, I just look with disgust,
Sitting on the sill, I think of him mournfully,
Hard as I try, I can't think of him scornfully,
Despite the fact that he talks so informally,
He says my name and I know I was born to be,
Part of the family, I think of them nightly,
Tootles, the twins, Curly, Nibs and Slightly,
Second star to the right, it shines so brightly,
Hope he might come back if I ask politely,
He doesn't apologize, he's immature and he's cold,
Lives in a land without rules so he can't be controlled,
But as soon as I saw him I knew I'd struck green-gold,
Peter Pan is a joke that just never gets old,
Don't smile at crocodiles down in Neverland,
And if you hear a ticking clock, hope the ships are manned,
Because there's a high demand for the taste of pirate band,
And if you're not hooked by now then Hook'll tell you first hand,
I flew here like a bird in a night-dress, frilly,
Scared, trying to fight stress, skin like Chantilly,
Found Peter and I confess that the boy's my Achilles,
Now I'm a lost girl treading on Tiger Lillies,
Acorns and thimbles are my idea of 'bases',
And sword fights with pirates are my ***** chasers,
Watching the boys as they fly and admiring Peter Pan,
But he's the boy who can't love here in Neverland,
I wanted devotion, to marry men who were charming,
So I repressed, left my emotion, I left Peter Pan snarling,
My own species no longer, just a common starling,
Caged by age at my window, I'm Wendy Darling.
Just Alice Dec 2014
Always dreaming
Yet never sleeping
She was caught up in a fantasy
She created in her head

Growing older
Yet never growing up
He was always playing
The games where he always wins

She got lost
Wandering in the enchanted forest
And found him
She instantly fell in love
Even when he didn’t offer his heart
And only promised
That he’ll teach her to fly

But she was just a player… a pawn
Caught up in his little game
Just like an innocent fly
Trapped in a spider web of lies

In her pretty little head
She can win the battle for his heart
Cause in a world of talking rabbits and caterpillars
She was the fierce warrior who defeated the Jabberwocky

But as he pulled her out of Wonderland
And brought her to Neverland
He let the pirates with hooks on their hands
Rip the heart off her chest
And served it on a silver platter to the crocodiles

She dragged herself back to Wonderland
Leaving a trail of her own blood
Still believing
Still hoping
That he’ll come after her
But he never did
ajp Nov 2014
Is it selfish of me to
thank God that he
has not taken her
out of her misery?
lea Oct 2014
We all perhaps know how Wendy waved at the night sky,
bid a goodbye as good as a farewell,
at the illusion of a pixie dust-flickered cloudscape
of a voyage setting sail
to dreams and fantasies stretching beyond time and infinitum.

And she was showered with so much
faith, trust and pixie dust,
quaint tiny love-stained lips
promises a kiss and sealed acorn, tight around her neck.
And the sparkle in the glances of her
lovely pair of blue crystal teals
manifest in the whereabouts of a star second to the right.

But the Big Ben struck half past childhood
and play pretend and silky nightgowns are long time over.
Innocence is robbed by a shadow
lurking in the premises of what could have been
for once the clicking of the keys
to the lock and latch of the gates of the yesteryears,
it could not be undone.

The hook of a deceiving treachery
robbed all the glow of a child’s pearl laced smile
and the mere belief of the existence of fairies and the magical mystical boy
who never grew up.
She once laced her hands with his,
past ephemeral and London night,
and straight on till morning.

The desires of her heart got lost in the sea of nowhere,
as it raced against the foolish time;
we all perhaps know how Wendy is never never return
to never Neverland.
Seán Mac Falls Sep 2014
Loser, poser reeks  .  .  .
Psychopathic ego shines,
  .  .  .  Promoting himself.
Poetic T Jun 2014
She was the glittering fairy
In the books,
But those who knew
Of the fairy
Tinker Bell,
Told another truth.

For hook was never after Pan
He was to hook a fairy,
Was his plan.

She had them hooked
On Dust,
Each morning
They would snort the glitter,
Then once again
Before dusk.

Those of weak soul
Could not take the toll,
Blood would seep
from there,
Eyes
Ears
& nose.

Feed to the croc
With a clock ticking,
Also addicted to
Lost boy flesh
Glazed,
Glittered,
Eyes,
Of a hunger untold

Peter Pan  
He flew to our world,
Not for
Friendship
Or for fun,
But to replace those fallen
Dismembered,
Hacked,
carved,
All by tinkers wand.
They were
Feed to the croc,
When all were asleep
High on dust
They never did ask,
Where the others had gone.

Enticed by a far away land,
Those who were taken
Never again to see home.
The lost boys
In a far off Land.

Peter her protector,
From the man,
The one with a hook for a hand.
Stories sing a different tune,
For it was tinker bell
Who magically removed
This limb called hand,
To quench its hunger,
Fed it to croc
Now the beast has a
Taste for the man.

No ill does hook hold
Against Pan,
But a sword
Must be put  
Through this child,
Who thinks he is man.

For hook is the only one
Who can rid this land,
Of the twisted dealer
Of dust,
Who wishes
To enslave this land.
William Crowe II Jun 2014
Io Io
Pan Pan

Wreathed in flowers,
feet wreathed in fire,
eyes twinkle dark,
shining from the lyre

Io Pan
Io Pan Pan

Sun burning red
and pregnant,
possibility, paradox

Io Pan Pan
Io Pan

Sun giving life,
father gives the Word,
He taketh away
just as He giveth
and He giveth
and maketh the grass
green

Io Io Pan
Io Pan Pan

He gives the fire,
He taketh it away

Io Pan
Pan Pan Io

From over the sea
the stars blinking
with rapidity

Io Pan
Io Pan Pan

Lust in the rivers,
hate in the mountains,
the hills are sighing,
the Nymphs are naked

Io Pan

The moon, mother,
matronly marvel
give us the sight
true sight to see
with shining gaze
perfume flowers
in ***** ****** daze

Io Pan
Io Pan Pan
Pan

The marble thigh,
the glass eye,
bathed in blood
on bridal bed of
burning

Io Pan
Pan Pan
Io Pan Pan

Envy the golden python,
throw thyself
towards the golden dawn
bathed in the flowers
of perfumed fawn

Io Pan
Io Pan Pan

Thrusting sword into ferns
of folding, the damp, the wicked
the opened eye
the one hand clapping

Pan
Pan Pan
Io

Reside in the grasp
of the vermillion snake
the vermin moving
in meadows
thorny meadows
lie silent in silver shadows

Io Io Pan

Flowers on the gypsy rod,
fleshy gate of God
bleeding and burning

Io Pan
Io Pan Pan
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