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"barrie" poems
Peter never understood why Wendy was meant to grow up why she had to leave the blissfulness of Neverland If there's an answer to his questions it would be that she was dreaming of castles and voyages and someone to love while he was mischieving pirates,chasing a never setting sun I often wander if I'm more like her, sincere, gentle, a duchess-to-be a young girl who dwells in stories or like the boy who wouldn't grow up, nonchalant, full of lovely wonderful thoughts, Peter Pan,the one who could fly But what did he do when she left? Is she a beautiful memory in a child's mind, why didn't he abandon immortality for love? Here's Wendy, back in Kensington Gardens a lady asking herself what if I had stayed why couldn't he abandon youth for her love? And she will forever remain in his mind as a little girl, who played family with and dreamed but Wendy will be married and will be kissed but not with him. And Peter will always be a chasing dream, a fairyland with pirates and ships, a world of villains, mermaids and the boy who didn't return her kiss. I read, imagining his crooked smile growing up or her staying forever and none of these feels completely right In the end, I am another lost boy who went to Neverland, and flew and fought with a sword, and swam with mermaids and danced around fire with the eyes of Tiger Lilly Sometimes there I return, finding him lost in her thoughts, but there again everyone's forgotten among the things we never say...
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
J.M. Barrie's tale
Sir James Matthew Barrie; My childhood savior, At last we meet. I embarked on a journey To seek out what you said Would be an awfully big adventure And gracious me, you were more than right! This is a paradise. Again, you saved my life. Thanks for showing me the way out.
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Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
Neverland
"All children, except one, grow up" -JM Barrie Growing up is a magical thing more so than staying a child. experiencing the miracle of time and life Looking back at my memories Of great happiness and great strife growing into a new person being a living being that can live and love is a magical thing
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Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 2:57 AM UTC
Untitled
"Think of happy thoughts and you will fly." "Peter Pan": J.M. Barrie
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Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
Thought for the Day XIII
Although the Wrangler has left the ranch, Within our hearts he'll be enshrined, For now he's gone to the last roundup, Leaving the rest of us behind. The sky was the Wrangler's favorite rooftop; Walls couldn't pen him in. To him the slow destruction of nature's Wonders was a cardinal sin. The saddle was his poetry-- His homage to life, a living ode. When not on his horse, you'd see him riding His two-wheeled "horse" on the open road. An expert storyteller he was. How he delighted us with his tales! His theory: a little embellishment Never hurts when all else fails. And write! How the Wrangler could write-- Each of his letters a work of art, A masterpiece of expression, replete With wit and charm that flowed from his heart. Fishing, hunting, philosophizing, Photography, and art to boot: His varied interests, but interest in YOU Was maybe his greatest attribute. Sometimes when his patience dwindled, He could lose it, and who could blame him. His wife, Barrie, had to try To tug on his reins to try to tame him. A legend in his time, he was-- A striking presence wherever he went. And spending money to help other People--to him--was money well spent. Although to the last roundup he's gone, The Wrangler's lasting imprint survives. As we say our good-byes, remember How he enriched all of our lives. -by Bob B (8-3-20)
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Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 4:20 PM UTC
The Wrangler's Last Roundup: For **** (11/2/1945 - 7/31/2020
I wake up and see you. I go to sleep. And see you. I pick up my phone and see you. I see - salty water marks on my pillows, a heaving chest expanding and contracting with a tremble, and I see a gray haze covering the surfaces I no longer wish to touch. I see somber flowers and I see candles that struggle to give off light even in the dullest of days. I see until the pain creeps back in and reclaims my clear eyes once again.
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May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 7:24 PM UTC
A life without Corey La Barrie