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He was a boy dressed in green who flew into the Nursery one night.
He flew in to retrieve the shadow that had gotten separated from him.
He had his fairy and best friend Tinkerbell fly into the room at first.
He followed about a minute later and told Tinkerbell to find it for him.
He watched Tinkerbell fly over a dresser drawer & asked which one.
He ran over to the drawer that Tinkerbell stayed beside & he opened it.
He takes the shadow out & happily holds it in his arms and hugs it.
He tries to stick the shadow on by just putting it on his head and poses.
He then has to pick the shadow up from the floor when it falls off.
He tries again and then sees soap & says he'll use that to make it stick.
He rubs the soap on the shadow or himself & tries to make it stick.
He starts to get very upset because the shadow won't stick itself to him.
He starts breathing heavily & asks, "What's the matter with you?"
He wakes Wendy & she thinks he's crying. "Boy, why are you crying?"
He answers her differently in the recent version from the others.
He just stands up from where he is and bows to her in the other films.
He stands up in the recent version & says to her, "I'm not crying."
He's told in the recent film that he looks like a boy out of a storybook.
He calls himself a "brave adventurer" & Wendy says, "Who cries."
He looks at Wendy and says to her, more sternly this time, "I don't cry."
He asks what her name is, she says, "Wendy Mira Angela Darling."
He tells her his & says, "It's enough for me." when she asks if that's it.
He looks around & asks, "Is this a real house?" Wendy says, "Yes."
He doesn't ask that in all the other versions, they just exchange names.
He does different things depending on what version you watch.
He goes out in the hall in the recent film when a noise interests him.
He tells her some things about himself, like that he is forgetful.
"Second star to the right and straight on till morning." is where he lives.
He tells Wendy this in every single version when she asks him.
He's asked if he gets letters & says in many films, "I don't get any letters."
He says in the recent film, "I don't get any." with a little shrug.
He also says, "I don't have a mother." when told his mother must get'em.
He puts a hand up & backs up when Wendy tries to hug him.
He says, "You mustn't touch me." Wendy puts her arms down & asks why.
He says, "No one has ever touched me." and just looks at her.
He's told by Wendy, "No wonder you were crying." and looks at her again.
He says, "I told you I wasn't. I just can't get my shadow to stick."
He also tells her, "I tried everything. Even soap." points to the bar of soap.
He gets the shadow on with the help of Wendy & is happy again.
He gets a thimble thinking it's a kiss and gives Wendy one to thank her.
He tells her about Neverland & she tells him that she knows stories.
He tells her to come with him and says that they will both fly to get there.
He says before this that he knows fairies & Wendy meets Tinkerbell.
He allows Wendy's brothers Michael and John to come fly with them too.
He teachers everyone how to fly and then they are off to Neverland.
I'm sorry, I think I said before that I was on a Peter Pan kick. Don't worry, I won't write about him again for a little bit. I have other things in mind to write about. Thanks for reading and doing all the others things, or at least one of them, if you did :) Bye!
He wore green and crowed where he went when he was happy.
He could fly through the air by thinking lovely, wonderful thoughts.
He loved to play and have fun with Wendy, Michael, and John.
He was the captain of Neverland, the home of him and the lost boys.
He went from being enemies to one with Tiger Lily and her tribe.
He was swore off and fought with pirates to save the boys and Wendy.
He fought with Captain Hook and cut off his hand, feed it.
He feed it to a crocodile that ticks and follows Captain wherever he goes.
He loves his fairy Tinkerbell and will do anything for her.
He had children clap their hands to save her when she drank the poison.
He said that Tinkerbell did that to save him from Hook.
He was rather forgetful and really hated having to say goodbye to others.
He also didn't like to be hugged or touched by people.
He said this was because he has never been touched and is used to that.
He also has a strong love for his very own shadow.
He loses it at the Darling Nursery and goes back at night to get it.
He tries to stick it on with a bar of soap many times.
He then gets upset and Wendy wakes up, she asks him why he's crying.
He denies doing so and says that he wasn't.
He meets Wendy and tells her about he lives, second to the right and straight on till morning.
He then says that he doesn't have a mother.
He then rolls his eyes when Wendy thinks that, that was why he cried.
He then has to say again that he wasn't crying.
He tells her that his shadow has come off and it won't stick to him.
He then lets her sow it on for him to have again.
He then takes the credit for it and sings for Wendy to say why he's happy.
He takes her and her brothers to Neverland.
He then has to send them home when they all start to get very home sick.
He comes back for spring cleaning years later.
He returns to learn that there is a new child and that it belongs to Wendy.
He is shocked and upset because she grew.
He shakes his head when she tells him and says, "But you promised not to."
He then shakes his head and says, "No."
He does this when Wendy starts to explain to him why she grew at home.
He then starts to get very upset with this.
He asks her in a very recent version what Jane calls Wendy every day.
He sits when Wendy says, "Mother."
He starts to cry and says that it's not alright, meaning she shouldn't have.
He then wakes up Jane from her sleep.
He looks at her when she asks, "Boy, why are you crying?" and denies it.
He tells her, as he told Wendy, that he's not.
He then gets shocked when Jane knows him and he asks her why she does.
He then starts to smile as she explains.
He asks her if she knows any stories, when she asks to learn how to fly.
He then nods when she says, "Lots."
He then asks her if she will tuck him in at night and mend his pockets.
He wants to know if she will be his mother.
He smiles when she says, "Oh yes, Peter, take me with you!" as she stands.
He nods and says, "Very well."
He then tells her what he told Wendy as he sprinkles the fairy dust on her.
He then sings about Neverland again.
He takes Jane's hand and the two of them fly through the window together.
He's a very sweet and gentle British boy.
He never wants to grow up and stays on Neverland in order not to do that.
He doesn't approve of mothers at all.
He says this because he once went home and saw that his had a new child.
He felt as if she had forgotten him.
He rejects Wendy's offer to come with her because of that very reason.
He also knew he would grow up.
He had a big heart and went through so much with Wendy and the boys.
He tells the story of being a child.
His story is about the child in all of us who loves to play and have fun.
He will always be around here.
He will be here and remain in our hearts for the rest of all our lives.
I truly respect and love this story. If you don't know, this was about Peter Pan. The boy who never grew up. He loved being a kid and was so very sweet. All he wants is a mother to love him. And he feels as though he finds that when he meets Wendy. It might seem like a story that is just for kids. But this story is truly for everyone, child and adult. Because it talks about love, honesty, and trust in the best ways. He said that he never cried and was often forgetful. But the truth was that he had feelings and a great heart. So if you ever come across this story, please read it. It's a very special story that I will love for as long as I live. Thanks for reading this, liking and maybe even commenting if you did :) Bye!
wakeupnirvana Aug 2013
I.

I went to wendy's yesterday
and I saw ed on the other day
and he carried with him, a bagful of books
and came along will, and saw him
they exchanged looks
and Will asked for some 'tools'
So came along Kim
who wore too much makeup
and she sat on the chair beside me
to look for boys who she would
hook up with.

II.

I went to wendy's yesterday
and I saw ed on the hay
and he carried with him, a handful of smokes
and he started to fling the smoke and breath in the air Inside his throat.
Then came along will, and saw him
he passed him a light, and gave a wink
they exchanged gifts
and ed asked for more ***
and will handed him, and ed gave his jackpot
So came along kim
who wore shorts and tops that showed her breast
she sat to the chair beside the teenager
and want to flirt with him over the motel
and gave her a wink
as she grabs the jackpot.

III.
I went to wendy's yesterday
and ordered for a milkshake
when I saw ed by the counter with his tray
and he carried with him, a gray bag full of *******
and he started to tuck it between him,
as he ordered a burger and some fries.
Then came along will, and saw him
he passed him the pack, and gave him a smile
they exchanged gifts
and will gave him the cash
and ed stashed the burger wrapper in the trash
So came along kim
who wore a mini skirt and tops that showed her cleavage
She sat to the chair beside the man
and the man smiled and gave her some cash
and gave him a wink
as he follow her to the motel

IV.
For graduation,
I came to wendy's to celebrate
and ordered salads for the day
and then I saw ed outside
handcuffed by the police for selling cyanide
and then I saw Will inside
displeased and gave a sigh
and brought out a smoke
to feel it's air deeply inside his thigh
that's when Tracey pointed to kim,
and told me she was selling some thing
and that she couldn't go with us to celebrate
Because of the baby in her den.
And lewis pointed to ed,
Said he was addicted
to the things that we weren't suppose to take.

V.**
I went yesterday at wendy's
and saw the coffin that was ed's
and saw the gun that Will was holding,
as he began to get the **** out of the man.
I chewed my burger that day at wendy's
and can't help but ask why
why the people was circling
around Kim's body.
By the sidewalk.
Scarlet Niamh Aug 2017
Little Wendy *******, coming up to play.
Walking up the hills, broken,
begging me to stay.
Little Wendy *******, needles to the skin.
Seeping, drip, seduction,
eyes that pull you in.
Little Wendy's soaking, she's drowning in herself.
Sinking, sinking deeper,
addiction beyond help.
Little Wendy's cloaking, she's hiding behind blood.
Dyeing her skin bright red,
swimming, falling up.
Little Wendy's dying, she's tripping in her mind.  
Shooting, lusting, crying,
nectar sweet and kind.
Little Wendy *******, pulse is always on.
She keeps on playing these games
until she's dead and gone.
~~ Inspiration taken from a song I've been loving. ~~
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2018
~for granddaughter Wendy on her first birthday~

mailman delivers a
a small bubble wrapped envelope,
an internet purchase made a long sometime ago  
accompanied by an enjoyable, self-served and self-serving,
"you're a good fella"
          pat on the back        

a spurting act of the what-the-heck,
trigger pulling, self-pleasuring,
donating a few bucks to saving poetry,
****** in by a suckers click bait

sent money to the
   keepers of poems;   
they even give something
in return.

sensible pencils.  

a non-rational purchase;
@ $6 dollars per leaded squib,
a wooden helping kiss rife with possibilities

all for a goodly cause
preservation band society poetic

this one-and-done impulse many weeks ago, 
followed by an immediacy forgeting,
then, an eye stabbing,
a widening wow weeks later
upon receipt
of an unexpected 5 pencil's all poems poetry reciting!

5 pencils. No. 2’s,
on each a phrase,
a poet's name and their singular words parsed
(see the notes).

paired passages from five poets,
deemed and distinguished to be
commemorated-worthy
and
what's more apropos than a dangerous  instrument of a
loaded leaded pencil,
that can be used to add to the  
Ever Expanding Universe of Verbal Liturgy
("and I helped")
.
once briefly dusted off the top of closeted dreamy days,
my notions of acclaim gone, silly gone,
my only marks now are erasures,
tiny rubber sheddings on paper
that's my marker,
a minus mark of deletion.

may yet come the day,
one will one gather up the
many survivors,
poem fauns, all my orphans,
give them to the
Wendy baby,

first,
she to metamorphose those
baby squeaks and  giggles,
weighty weightless poem noises,
clapping, waving, delighted and delighting, kiss-throwing videos and that milk covered face,
into her own living words

all these noises that makes even non-poets
smile ear to ear unabashedly,
nodding in delight agreement
to her own non verbal
original poems
:
perhaps
one day a little girl
will stumble on five pencils,
mixed in within fifteen hundred poems not particularly well hid,
between worthless insurance policies and other artifacts,
memoirs and pointless depositions,
hid between her older sister and brother's
crayoned keepsakes


  with pointed newly sharpened pencils
the very same,
this,
his Wendy,
might add
to the grandpere's poem collection with
pencils begging to be used,
for they are generationally and genetically,
pre-poetically enabled,
weighting the old memories
with new ballast and new balance,
from new verbal babies
all of her own.
What happens to a dream deferred?  Langston Hughes
Won't you celebrate with me? Lucille Clifton
Do I dare disturb the universe?  T.S. Eliot
I'm Nobody! Who are you? Emily Dickinson
Where can the crying heart graze? Naomi Shibab Nye

poets.org
Peter Pan said Wendy -
There's something I want to tell you.
I am neither straight nor bent
But what you might call bendy

Captain Hook stopped reading his e-book and eavesdropped more intently.

Peter knew what his flexible friend meant and spoke to her quite innocently.

Wendy - I am as vanilla as Manilla envelopes in a creamery with whitewashed walls
And identical twin albino Godzillas fighting snow leopards with cue *****.

No gimp suit in fifty shades of grey for me.

I am pretty much hormone-free,
More than happy with asexuality,
Playing pirated computer games on one hand
And others' loves that dare not speak their names which fewer understand.

In my world of dreamery certain flights of fancy pass me by.

I love to fly and you Wendy.

And I love you too Peter - Not Everygirl's Ideal of A Real Man.
But I can understand the attraction of Lost Boys and their toys in Neverland.

We've known each other for all these years,
Shared too many troubles, thoughts and fears
To be anything other than in each other's hearts.

If I never visit Neverland again
I know you will always be my closest friend,
What, where, whenever happens
To the bittersweet end.

May we both be dying for an Excellent Adventure,
If not together then separately.

There is nothing better than to know
That you will always be there for me
No matter how we might grow
Into this 21st century.

And one day I may straighten out
But
That's
Not
What
Life's
About.

Captain Hook put down his e-book and Facebooked a friend...............

And that is where our story will end.
jeffrey conyers Mar 2016
It long been known to many that the black male is a threat to the white race.
Whether real or not.
Many frightful if the hell or vision of abuse from the Civil Rights movement many endured.

Obviously, those violent days if happen today would create WAR.
But one must understand things has changed.
No more butlering and maid days is required for many African Americans.

Which brings us to the Hell of Wendy Bell views.
Which hardly factual but more based on her stereotype based solely on reporting of the news.

Should we be upset?
Should we be protesting?
Which obviously some will do.
Or seek balance of truth within the news.

A great majority know most crime is black on black mostly.
And a majority of greater white crimes gets washed over by the press.
Why?
Cause they don't want the whites to obviously be upset seeing themselves.

The Hell of Wendy Bell lies in her perspectives.
Where in her job she forgot to be less objective?

Truth lies in the justice or injustice of the courts.
Where one race of minorities gets to see the cells?
While one cries about mental issues to avoid detention.

Columbine or the Theater clown, where many was killed?
Than this exposed the truth that Wendy Bell can't fathom.

When counting bodies based upon race.
The facts soon exposed the true face of killers.

Where you find some hiding in bravery behind purchasing of guns?
Like they some westerner type cowboy in the movies.
Which brings us to another truth.

Many parents gets killed more by legal weapons used by white youth.
Deny if you like.
But this mostly the main truth.
Which the Wendy Bell of the world avoids.
It’s thirty years since I travelled back
To wander my childhood home,
To check out the trees I used to climb
And the fields where I used to roam,
I remembered the friends that used to play,
Wendy and Paul and Mark,
And the local bully that had his way
Back then, in the Boating Park.

We’d go up there on a Sunday, pay
Our money and hire a boat,
That fourpence each to the gatekeeper
Saw the three of us afloat,
Each boat had paddlewheels either side
You could turn, and stop or start,
Or spin around in a circle, just
For fun, at the Boating Park.

The Park, laid out in a rectangle
Took an hour to paddle round,
Once out of sight of the gatekeeper
The banks would muffle the sound,
We’d scream and shriek and laugh and beam
As we rammed each other’s boats,
I often thought it a wonder that
We didn’t puncture the floats.

Then over beyond the halfway mark
We lay in the shade of trees,
The sun would sink, it was getting dark
And we’d hear the murmur of bees,
We had to pass there under a bridge
And duck, for the bridge was low,
And that’s where the bully McPherson stood
On the bridge, those years ago.

He’d jeer, throw stones and catcall as we
Tried to get under the span,
Then climb and drop into Wendy’s boat
He wouldn’t have tried with a man.
He’d paddle over the further side
And make her get out of the boat,
Then paddle it back the way we came
Get out, and leave it afloat.

One Sunday I sat under the bridge
With Paul and Mark beside,
While Wendy came along on her own
As if on a solo ride,
The bully tried the very same thing
But we each pulled on his coat,
And when he came up, he couldn’t scream
For the water lodged in his throat.

He splashed about and he tried to grab
The boat, but his clothes, like lead,
Were trying to drag him down, while Paul
And Mark, they stood on his head.
Wendy had clambered up on the bank
Controlled, and well in command,
For every time he tried to get out,
She’d stamp and stomp on his hand.

The paper said it was very strange
That he must have put up a fight,
But hadn’t the strength to pull himself
Up out of the cut that night.
His hands and fingers were shredded, where
He’d tried to climb up the bank,
But the weight of his heavy, sodden clothes
Were the demons he had to thank.

I went to visit the Boating Park
It was just the way I feared,
I met up there with an older Mark,
A man with a greying beard,
He told me Wendy and Paul were dead
Weighed down with a sense of sin,
And the gatekeeper at the Boating Park
Had gone, when they filled it in.

David Lewis Paget
KC Cabauatan Jun 2015
Wendy, Wendy, she gave me a thimble;
She held my world and made it crumble.
The tender orb's icy sheathing starts to melt,
thawed by the enigma's hearth it felt.

The thimble she gave, it dawned upon me;
makes me wonder will she not, or will she be.
Is she the raison d'etre I've long been searching for?
Though one thing's for certain, her thimble, I'm yearning for more.

Her fairness, her beauty, there's more from within.
Surpassing even the cherubic vessel she's in.
Ethereal Perfume, she draws me near;
in the sonorous silence; two hearts twained dear.

She made me, no longer the rougish Peter Pan;
Her thimble transfixed me into a man.
She took me out from Neverland's imbecile bliss;
But for you to see, Wendy's thimble is her secret kiss.
Little Wendy Warson wore her hair down everyday
She never wore hats or hair clips or even burets.
I would beg little Wendy "can I please braid your hair?"
Always resulting in a daring death glare.
On Tuesday, Wendy wore her hair in a bun.
She even looked so pretty, no one noticed her gun.
spysgrandson Nov 2011
Clicking heels announced her presence
in the deepening gloom
where they hid
crouched like cats awaiting their prey.
She stared through the charcoal air
where
they lay
as she clipped closer
to their hungry eyes and teeth.
But when within reach
she spied their glowing glances
and thwarted their advances
with a simple singular phrase
one they would recall for all their days,
“You are already ******”.
Though this would be armor for few
what the predators strangely knew
was that Wendy Howling
gave no thought to their groping greed
for she lived by a higher creed.
And in the end,
when they mounted her motionless flesh
and grunted grotesquely in the doomed dark
Wendy Howling felt no pain
and she knew struggling would be in vain
for her words were true—
their sorrowful souls dug their way through her
to a hell from which they could not be saved
and her tears were not for her wounded womb
but for their eternal doom
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.
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.
Mari Nov 2015
I found myself stranded on
Neverland
with no way to fly
and no star to show me the way
'till one night
as I closed my eyes
a shadow appeared and a boy
close on his heels
they tumbled and rolled before my feet
Boy and Shadow became one
and grinned at me
"Peter Pan"
he said to me
playing a tune
and swore he just wanted
to talk for a while

Laying amongst the tiger lilies
I so adored and staring up at the stars
He asked me to be his
When I asked why he simply replied
"I once saved you from
Captain Hook."
"I’ll keep you safe."
"I promise you’ll never be lonely.”
Foolishly, I agreed
and he took me to his
Hiding Tree
where spiteful Tinkerbell
tried to be rid of me
for I was Self-Composed, Human & Withdrawn,
everything she was not.
He taught me how to fly,
showed me every nook and cranny
of his world by moonlight.
And I fell in love
with the way, his eyes shone like fireflies
and his pure and genuine laugh.
He was enthralling
and magnetic
always so carefree
and reckless

How wonderful it was

'Till Wendy bird came along
for she was Kind, Romantic & Empathetic
everything I was not
all I could do was watch
as they flew through Neverland
by moonlight
She fell hopelessly in love
with his recklessly playful nature
and hypnotic charms

Yet every night
Wendy gazed down
to see the girl
with the crow feather in her hair
laying amongst the flowers she was named
with Tinkerbell by her side.
Whenever she asked Peter why
he simply replied
“She is as Wild as she is Beautiful.
She cannot be contained
by the hollow walls of my Hiding Tree
Nor the boundaries of her village."

Then one night
when Wendy bird left
and Peter returned to Hangman’s Tree
he found Tiger Lily gone.
Every night he’d fly above
Neverland
only to glimpse
her crow feather
but all he found was an empty space
belonging
to her ghost
whispering
"Peter Pan
Take my hand and fly away
to Neverland
where the beast
within
can be free"

Tinkerbell never did say where she’d gone
only to leave her be.
Her wild beast no longer had a home.

Peter Pan
would never see her again
He had broken his Lily's heart
11-4-15
Hope you guys like it
The doors were shut again.

Inside, Wendy could hear him typing. The click and clack sounds of a typewriter had grown monotonous to her, a never-ending drone, so unlike a human heartbeat.

Jack said, “Wendy, let me explain something to you. Whenever you come in here and interrupt me, you’re breaking my concentration. You’re distracting me. And it will then take time to get back to where I was.”

She placed her hands up on the doors and put her ear to the wood, listening.

Click and clack, click and clack.

Jack said, “When you come in here and you hear me typing, or whether you don’t hear me typing, or whatever the ******* hear me doing; when I’m in here, it means that I am working. That means don’t come in.”

Jack asked, “Now, do you think you can handle that?”

Wendy liked to believe the best sound in the world was the sound of creation. Jack favoured the clatter of typewriter keys. Wendy preferred the sound of laughter.

Wendy wondered, with all this typing going on, if she could still keep her place in his heart.
Tryst Sep 2014
Beneath the surface of the earth,
Beneath the green and sodden turf,
Wendy wombat, supreme digger
Raced to make her tunnels bigger,
Pulling dirt with mighty claws
And toiling hard without a pause

Ensconced within her little pouch,
So small they had no need to crouch,
Her children slept, all warm and dry,
As mud and dirt went flying by,
Quite unaware how nature planned
To lend them all a helping hand

For wombat pouches don't get full
Of dirt and mud as mommies pull,
For mother nature in her wisdom
Looked upon her magic kingdom,
Saw the wombats under ground
And wisely turned their pouches round!
Joe Cole challenge for "Natural Creativity".

Wombats have a pouch for their young.  They also spend a lot of time digging holes, and as they push dirt backwards with their powerful front claws, it would fill any normal pouch.  So mother nature, in her infinite wisdom, reversed the pouch, putting the opening at the back.  If that isn't natural creativity, I don't know what it!

First published 17th Sept 2014, 11:15 AEST.
JL Jan 2012
You are my back up
Stick to the plan
No matter what
You are Wendy
and I'm Peter Pan
After I throw myself from the fifth story window
Of some ***** apartment in China town
Wait for the cops and tell them who I am
Tell them that I was trying to go home
To never never land
But I ran out of happy thoughts
Before I took to the air
And when they pull up my sleeves
Pointing at my track marks with a ball point pen
you tell them that was from shooting fairy dust
Straight to my brain
when they ask about my wallet
Any cash or car keys
Tell them their with captain Hook
he stole em' from me
When they ask where I am from
Say I'm a lost boy
And that's all
no mom and dad or sisters
Only John, Micheal, and teddy
Tell them I was best friends with the Indians
and the beautiful mermaids
And when they ask who you are
You're Wendy Darling
The girl who told stories
And kept my head full of dreams
Robin Carretti Apr 2019
Your the one son being rebellious little darlings here comes
the sun drenching delicious but wait those cloudy days
watch out the hunters run ducking our heads like babies
wetting and water squirting beds getting too saucy
  ten O clock playpen the daring duck gourmet sauce
Orange you glad all her rich creme spread across
her penpals
Do you trust those gals too country slick on Newsweek

Getting paid he is the longest laid egg all grilled we are
not thrilled here is the "Chuckie Duckie" doll those *****
barbie collectors they are sitting duck Graphic Artist
Not one quack doll plastic surgeon duck lips she thinks
shes the hot stuff romantic "French" lips up the
"Eiffel Tower" splash splash she is out of cash
Those hot items presidential poll what a lost soul

Too much blue yes attention swan dancers Springtime
Not  the red attention yellow instead ****** please
I need a  journey not the "Attorney" such a ****** case
When you need them they always duck
When they have a new quack case they are ruining
my image
Duck tapesty Carol Kings youve got a friend

I'm feeling yellow homesick on your feather duck pillow
The same yellow tie a different atmosphere Go- Spa
She's flirting do you know where your going how is
life treating you he's giggling way too wild on her
goose chase
  Losing our grip down to her chicken bone hip
Duck season not much time for love being hunted

The Spa  la la ha have Merci' oh la la 'Disco Duck"
The wild ones the only ones quack- quack the
lonely ones
At the waterfront trip to "Chinatown" they let
them hang to dry but why Dad? They are better
like the delicacy shark finn soup we need a Spa
lucky green group Irish eyes are smiling stories
of ducks

I am  not buying do you see duck climb the
          "Eiffel Tower" yellow as a canary
All talk-talk is cheap lets talk French Mom walks
With her pretty duck handle umbrella we waddle
The penquin what a beauty swan feather pen
  But she's the"Prima Donna" look out!

The slingshot Marilyn Monroe wiggles out
                  The "Spa- Ma"
                 Don't  Scramble me darlings
                    Breakfast eggs cagefree
                     *          *          
My little chickadees organic brown on my gown
Spa duckies traveled the whole Atlantic town
The longest pond sleeping like "Rip Van Winkle"
twinkle twinkle
doublecrossed the street you get one dermerit
Sesame street Big bird how many words in duck
vocabulary quack- quack who get's the duck star

Mars from Men women go to the Spa like the bad
omen and they don't leave tap tap chop chop
I want it now!! Its now or never why does she always
get ugly duckling book delivered
Lazy goose she is the spoiled rotten egg how
do we love those  I apples
Carrots are for the eyes Mom always gets bird eyes

My little chickadees the Alaskan cute puppies
Big salute to the cutest duck feet "God Bless America"
  Visa  American Express Daffy Duck in Disney mess
the real picture "Mona Lisa" getting the duck
         Prime  chop minister
"Parliament Spa" prices so sinister
"Eat Duck and Pray" the  southern biscuits
more recruits

My cute rookies those duckier cookies another Spa day
So prim and proper teatime with "Queen deck"
  Alice in rabbit hole-Santa candycane poles cute chick
is homesick you better sent her money quick
The ducky bib the Chinese duck soup won ton
The feather fan she loves her Sushi roll Hollywood
Style California all duck drama
The best treatment duck made carpet

On the "Disney Hollywood" deck "Epcot"
On the futon what diction for a duck "My Fair lady"
Got the whole fortunes bed
The duck on the hill what a fool but the monk
Is the whole spiritual existence
The peacock's longest wait for lobster tails
centerpieces red bird Robin fly Robin Fly

Disco ball fancy tails she ended up up up to the sky
Her duck sunglasses a dozen ***** spin's the disco
The Duck Pop singer wants him back
High price or a short mack duck shooter attack
Food for thought homesick all saucy duck tie waiter
Cinderella rags to ducklings I went to "Woodstock"
Imagine me the teenager chick the duck split

Fill wing concert sky made a hit
The blues love is strange chick-lets are yellow
Like clock work what a duck work out orange          
        Duck handle umbrella               
 Duckies I pledge to you College Preppies
The chick feeder Ain't nothing but a hound dog
      Elvis heart breaker bird-brain feeder

  Moms duck sugar cookies
******* Jack one prize quack quack
 Huckleberry Finn paper boat old billy goat
  In the drowned mans eye holy ducks he delivered
I will blow you down duck horn the day you
were born
Having a third eye one duck Wendy 4 for a 4

Notre Dame church tragic but saved
   The  Easter yellow chicks

To Rome lend me your feathers no secret ears
Sticky Fingers she lost her writing finger in the
pond  OH! look whats beyond so kind
With her duckling apron dress he ducked
The chatty cat "City Dr Seuss"

Wearing duck boots those duck lips played her
like the fancy feast
The teachers pet the ducklings cute darlings
Spa cream she quite the flabber belly dancer
The ballet swan achiever "Spa One Day tripper"
The ugly duckling changed to beauty witch
Holy-land or duck pond Mickey's ears
                   Disneyland

Stand up daffy duck comedian Las Vegas
Godiva Peking duck soup flapping swishing
mess
The Big Ben red whose been sleeping in my
duck wing bed
The car stops he hiccups cute bebops
The guardian angel quack quack any luck
Yummy raspberry pie someone delivered

Christmas Scrooge all tears
New York lights camera I love my
        Serendipity chandeliers
Those duck tear drops last stop
Or you die__your still quacking
       Just in time said I
           Fly Robin Fly

     Saved my baby chick lovely
     Cradled her to love her
          Dr Seuss read
Its about all speculation dreaming need of a nature cool environment ;our eyes up get your cafe favorite cup my baby chicks  words will give flight and I hope you will feel just perfectly right with her duck lips  Quack Quack
Poetoftheway Jul 2018
Ilion gray
poet extraordinary
is away
learning the codes hidden in raindrops

no reason for surprise;

for the mountains of Brooklyn, the Manhattan caverns of Sunhenge^, corridors of narrow focus for trapping the declining sun rays,

neither high enough, narrow blinding,
to keep a good man from doing good things that life provides as opportunities
to do the right thing

he muses that it took five years for the other poets to understand our
poem-dreams;
avant-garde he says,
but I laugh,
never felt more misunderstood
and reply take care, be
en garde!

no matter for he is learning a new language,
the codes hidden in raindrops in a land of wheat
once called Indian Territory and eager
await his return so we may
walk along the Brooklyn shoreline,
beginning from under the Brooklyn Bridge
where Washington’s men escaped a British trap

and he can decode for me the whispery thunderous noises of
NY
showers that come up so sudden,  so roughened, but right now,
the seductive sun blinks in Manhattan windowed towers reflecting back on to our East River as golden blinks of nature

We will walk lost in the absorption of our
different commonalities, holding the hands of
his young son, and my Wendy,
both of them equal in possession of round saucer eyes
that give us poems

He calls me me friend,
I call him brother, teacher, master, better than the best,
well recalling a late night message that bred
a five year conversation ongoing

not everything need be coded
what you read here
it is not coded,
for the raindrops come clear and clean
and the poems land on our tongues
bounce on the foreheads and eyes of the babes, all stored and saved for the future blessings spoken in a single tongue

7/18/18



^https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manhattanhenge
#Ilion codes brooklyn by NY
I was named Peter for a reason
Come on, i'll take you away from the hurt
You'll be my Wendy
As we transcend into Neverland
Probably my favorite short poem now. It just randomly came to me, glad i was able to write it down.
Terry O'Leary Sep 2013
NOTE TO THE READER – Once Apun a Time

This yarn is a flossy fabric woven of several earlier warped works, lightly laced together, adorned with fur-ther braided tails of human frailty. The looms were loosed, purling frantically this febrile fable...

Some pearls may be found wanting – unwanted or unwonted – piled or hanging loose, dangling free within a fuzzy flight of fancy...

The threads of this untethered tissue may be fastened, or be forgotten, or else be stranded by the readers and left unravelling in the knotted corners of their minds...

'twill be perchance that some may  laugh or loll in loopy stitches, else be torn or ripped apart, while others might just simply say “ ’tis made of hole cloth”, “sew what” or “cant seam to get the needle point”...,

yes, a proper disentanglement may take you for a spin on twisted twines of any strings you feel might need attaching or detaching…

picking knits, some may think that
    such strange things ‘have Never happened in our Land’,
    such quaint things ‘could Never happen in our Land’’,
    such murky things ‘will Never happen in our Land’’…

and this may all be true, if credence be dis-carded…

such is that gooey gossamer which vails the human mind...

and thus was born the teasing title of this fabricated Fantasy...

                                NEVER LAND

An ancient man named Peter Pan, disguised but from the past,
with feathered cap and tunic wrap and sabre’s sailed his last.
Though fully grown, on dust he’s flown and perched upon a mast
atop the Walls around the sprawls, unvisited and vast -
and all the while with bitter smile he’s watching us aghast.

As day begins, a spindle spins, it weaves a wanton web;
like puckered prunes, like midday moons, like yesterday’s celebs,
we scrape and *****, we seldom hope - he watches while we ebb:

    The ***** grinder preaches fine on Sunday afternoons -
    he quotes from books but overlooks the Secrets Carved in Runes:
    “You’ve tried and toyed, but can’t avoid or shun the pale monsoons,
    it’s sink or swim as echoed dim in swinging door saloons”.
    The laughingstocks are flinging rocks at ball-and-chained baboons.

    While ghetto boys are looting toys preparing for their doom
    and Mademoiselles are weaving shells on tapestries with looms,
    Cathedral cats and rafter rats are peering in the room,
    where ragged strangers stoop for change, for coppers in the gloom,
    whose thoughts are more upon the doors of crypts in Christmas bloom,
    and gold doubloons and silver spoons that tempt beyond the tomb.

    Mid *** shots from vacant lots, that strike and ricochet
    a painted girl with flaxen curl (named Wendy)’s on her way
    to tantalise with half-clad thighs, to trick again today;
    and indiscreet upon the street she gives her pride away
    to any guy who’s passing by with time and cash to pay.
    (In concert halls beyond the Walls, unjaded girls ballet,
    with flowered thoughts of Camelot and dreams of cabarets.)

    Though rip-off shops and crooked cops are paid not once but thrice,
    the painted girl with flaxen curl is paring down her price
    and loosely tempts cold hands unkempt to touch the merchandise.
    A crazy guy cries “where am I”, a ****** titters twice,
    and double quick a lunatic affects a fight with lice.

    The alleyways within the maze are paved with rats and mice.
    Evangelists with moneyed fists collect the sacrifice
    from losers scorned and rubes reborn, and promise paradise,
    while in the back they cook some crack, inhale, and roll the dice.

    A *** called Boe has stubbed his toe, he’s stumbled in the gutter;
    with broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter,
    the passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads and mutter:
    “Let’s pray for rains to wash the lanes, to clear away the clutter.”
    A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder.

    The jungle teems, a siren screams, the air is filled with ****.
    The Reverent Priest and nuns unleash the Holy Shibboleth.
    And Righteous Jane who is insane, as well as Sister Beth,
    while telling tales to no avail of everlasting death,
    at least imbrue Hagg Avenue with whisky on their breath.

    The Reverent Priest combats the Beast, they’re kneeling down to prey,
    to fight the truth with fang and tooth, to toil for yesterday,
    to etch their mark within the dark, to paint their résumé
    on shrouds and sheets which then completes the devil’s dossier.

    Old Dan, he’s drunk and in a funk, all mired in the mud.
    A Monk begins to wash Dan’s sins, and asks “How are you, Bud?”
    “I’m feeling pain and crying rain and flailing in the flood
    and no god’s there inclined to care I’m always coughing blood.”
    The Monk, he turns, Dan’s words he spurns and lets the bible thud.

    Well, Banjo Boy, he will annoy with jangled rhymes that fray:
    “The clanging bells of carousels lead blind men’s minds astray
    to rings of gold they’ll never hold in fingers made of clay.
    But crest and crown will crumble down, when withered roots decay.”

    A pregnant lass with eyes of glass has never learned to cope.
    Once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry ***** -
    she casts the Curse, the Holy Verse, and shoots a shot of dope,
    then stalks discreet Asylum Street her daily horoscope -
    the stray was struck by random truck which was her only hope.

    So Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
    “The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire.
    Born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire
    where no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
    where faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
    Infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
    Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
    whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood cling, splattered on the spire;
    though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”

    Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
    And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
    with child, *****, her soul dyed red, her body so unclean.
    A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
    in limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
    and all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
    which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.

    Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
    “In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
    neath scarlet trim with black, and grim, behind a robed facade -
    “She’ll burn in hell and sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.

    Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
    but Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
    “The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
    but near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.”
    And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.

The eyes behind the head inclined reflect a universe
of shanty towns and kings in crowns and parties in a hearse,
of heaping mounds of coffee grounds and pennies in a purse,
of heart attacks in shoddy shacks, of motion in reverse,
of reasons why pale kids must die, quite trite and curtly terse,
of puppet people at the steeple, kneeling down averse,
of ****** tones and megaphones with empty words and worse,
of life’s begin’ in utter sin and other things perverse,
of lewd taboos and residues contained within the Curse,
while poets blind, in gallows’ rind, carve epitaphs in verse.

    A sodden dreg with wooden leg is dancing for a dime
    to sacred psalms and other balms, all ticking with the time.
    He’s 22, he’s almost through, he’s melted in his prime,
    his bane is firm, the canker worm dissolves his brain to slime.
    With slanted scales and twisted jails, his life’s his only crime.

    A beggar clump beside a dump has pencil box in hand.
    With sightless eyes upon the skies he’s lying there unmanned,
    with no relief and bitter grief too dark to understand.
    The backyard blight is hid from sight, it’s covered up and bland,
    and Robin Hood and Brother Hood lie buried in the sand.

    While all night queens carve figurines in gelatine and jade,
    behind a door and on the floor a deal is finally made;
    the painted girl with flaxen curl has plied again her trade
    and now the care within her stare has turned a darker shade.
    Her lack of guile and parting smile are cutting like a blade.

    Some boys with cheek play hide and seek within a house condemned,
    their faces gaunt reflecting want that’s hard to comprehend.
    With no excuse an old recluse is waiting to descend.
    His eyes despair behind the stare, he’s never had a friend
    to talk about his hidden doubt of how the world will end -
    to die alone on empty throne and other Fates impend.

    And soon the boys chase phantom joys and, presto when they’re gone,
    the old recluse, with nimble noose and ****** features drawn,
    no longer waits upon the Fates but yawns his final yawn
    - like Tinker Bell, he spins a spell, in fairy dust chiffon -
    with twisted brow, he’s tranquil now, he’s floating like a swan
    and as he fades from life’s charades, the night awaits the dawn.

    A boomerang with ebon fang is soaring through the air
    to pierce and breach the heart of each and then is called despair.
    And as it grows it will oppose and fester everywhere.
    And yet the crop that’s at the top will still be unaware.

    A lad is stopped by roving cops, who shoot in disregard.
    His face is black, he’s on his back, a breeze is breathing hard,
    he bleeds and dies, his mama cries, the screaming sky is scarred,
    the sheriff and his squad at hand are laughing in the yard.

    Now Railroad Bob’s done lost his job, he’s got no place for working,
    His wife, she cries with desperate eyes, their baby’s head’s a’ jerking.
    The union man don’t give a ****, Big Brother lies a’ lurking,
    the boss’ in cabs are picking scabs, they count their money, smirking.

    Bob walks the streets and begs for eats or little jobs for trying
    “the answer’s no, you ought to know, no use for you applying,
    and don’t be sad, it aint that bad, it’s soon your time for dying.”
    The air is thick, his baby’s sick, the cries are multiplying.

    Bob’s wife’s in town, she’s broken down, she’s ranting with a fury,
    their baby coughs, the doctor scoffs, the snow flies all a’ flurry.
    Hard work’s the sin that’s done them in, they skirmish, scrimp and scurry,
    and midnight dreams abound with screams. Bob knows he needs to hurry.
    It’s getting late, Bob’s tempting fate, his choices cruel and blurry;
    he chooses gas, they breathe their last, there’s no more cause to worry.

    Per protocols near ivied walls arrayed in sage festoons,
    the Countess quips, while giving tips, to crimson caped buffoons:
    “To rise from mass to upper class, like twirly bird tycoons,
    you stretch the treat you always eat, with tiny tablespoons”

    A learned leach begins to teach (with songs upon a liar):
    “Within the thrall of Satan’s call to yield to dim desire
    lie wicked lies that tantalize the flesh and blood Vampire;
    abiding souls with self-control in everyday Hellfire
    will rest assured, when once interred, in afterlife’s Empire”.
    These words reweave the make believe, while slugs in salt expire,
    baptised in tears and rampant fears, all mirrored in the mire.

    It’s getting hot on private yachts, though far from desert plains -
    “Well, come to think, we’ll have a drink”, Sir Captain Hook ordains.
    Beyond the blame and pit of shame, outside the Walled domains,
    they pet their pups and raise their cups, take sips of pale champagnes
    to touch the tips of languid lips with pearls of purple rains.

    Well, Gypsy Guy would rather die than hunker down in chains,
    be ridden south with bit in mouth, or heed the hold of reins.
    The ruling lot are in a spot, the boss man he complains:
    “The gypsies’ soul, I can’t control, my patience wears and wanes;
    they will not cede to common greed, which conquers far domains
    and furtive spies and news that lies have barely baked their brains.
    But in the court of last resort the final fix remains:
    in boxcar bins with violins we’ll freight them out in trains
    and in the bogs, they’ll die like dogs, and everybody gains
    (should one ask why, a quick reply: ‘It’s that which God ordains!’)”

    Arrayed in shawls with crystal *****, and gazing at the moons,
    wiled women tease with melodies and spooky loony tunes
    while making toasts to holey ghosts on rainy day lagoons:
    “Well, here’s to you and others too, embedded in the dunes,
Edna Sweetlove Dec 2014
O peaceful moon, shining gently o'er the fields,
In your soft light I see a tree, a hedge, a glistening pond;
And the soft night sounds of rustling reeds and swaying boughs
Intermingle with the nightly warfare of a million creatures.

But hark! From the new housing estate across the park
There comes a rather different sound.  Through an open window
Comes the healthy thwack of flesh on flesh and muffled shrieks of joy
As Isaac and Wendy Bumsenfotze indulge themselves un peu.

Isaac's got his gasmask on, and his rubber flippers too
And (speaking candidly) looks an unattractive proposition
Especially now his skinny chest towers o'er his massive *******,
All four mighty manly inches of it from tip to curlies.

Lying trussed up on their bed, atop its needed rubber sheeting,
Lies Sam, their well-trained patient pedigree crossbred donkey,
Upon whose good-natured, hirsute, unsuspecting person
Nameless atrocities have often been performed in Eros' name.

What are they going to do tonight? I bet you'll never guess.
Well, Wendy's strapped her ***** on and intends to use it first
On Ikey's waiting well-lubricated back end
And then it's Sam's turn and ***** the R.S.P.C.A.

And while Sam is getting poked by loving Wendy,
Old Ike will not be idle: camera-phone in one hand
And mail-order sjambok in the other, he'll record
Their motions and lacerate them both simultaneously.

Underneath his gasmask, Isaac gets a bit sweaty and excited,
And once their party's over all three will doze off:
A truly lovely scene.  But they will be soon by woken by
The morning sun glittering on Wendy's cast-off legirons.
Joanna Charis Aug 2018
Someday, I’ll go to Neverland;
flying to the second star in the right.

You’ll be my Peter Pan,
and I’ll hold you so tight.
Cliffy Buglione Apr 2014
The nightmare voice
is whispering to me again
Telling me you don't belong to me
The acoustics are driving me insane.

I tried to tell you I am the messiah
In a hope that you'd compromise my anticipation
as to be a king
Really I'm just obsessed
And Wendy I'm obsessed with you
I'm only obsessed with you.

Elvis never inspired your prophet
Things were stolen
Sweet scented flowers were crushed
and destroyed - Such beauty left as junk
and tho a ****** was *****
Jesus lit no candles for this punk.

I tried to tell you
I was the only valantine
                               for you
In a hope that you'd pity what is true
from my direction
Romeo and Juliet didn't have a clue
Of love's perfection
But by and by we all take the ride
Just an alibi for suicide
Really I'm just obsessed
And Wendy I'm obsessed with you
I'm only obsessed with you.
Just you
b for short Mar 2016
Hushed, like a morning before sunrise, 
grace floods in without threat.
A sudden flutter of piano keys cues
a story to unravel onto something
so much more interesting
than pages of paper.
To eerie tunes and haunting hums,
she brushes, feather-like, across my eyes—
a pinnacle of innocence
that humbles me to the warmest tears.
She does not speak but tells me everything.
So beautifully, with pointed toes
and arms as weightless as summer clouds,
my imagination falls to her tiny mercy.
The little girl in the light blue dress,
who became
my favorite storyteller.
© Bitsy Sanders, March 2016

For Madeline Jane
Arcassin B Jun 2016
By Arcassin , Chloe , Wolf, SE , soul , zeal , Brando , icy , irie , soulful , strange , and wendy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AB

Not Even I,
a mere human being with limitations and
Wants and needs to stay away from the business
suits that only want the greed and the finer things
Distributing cigarettes to these young kids is what
Nobody else needs,
To live in this wickedness , you'll see,
Where does the tax payers money go?
Learning all of the secrets that rely on history to
Keep us up and about with drugs that we use on
Our day to day schedules for whatever contingency
planned for,
No sign of a Grail to be explored,

Remembering those who have lost their lives in
The wars that gave us the hope and chance we
Needed to make America great proceeding to give
The freedom of speech a new motive behind it,
That's why I write everyday to keep the demons inside,
Senseless killing in America makes my stomach turn in
Ways that I could not fathom dreaming that I could believe
What lies ahead won't be pretty for us,
I guess that I'm delirious,
Pray for Orlando
When judgment day comes , I hope he cares for us.


CZ (Chorus)

Every struggle in life we are built to fight
we know that in the end there will be that light

WS

i'm appalled with the world the way it is
our politicians carry on with the same old biz
protecting the rich, taking from the poor
usurping the world , like our cheap little *****

our city streets are in disrepair
the infrastructure is in a terrible tear
no education, no social equality
and the bill is payed by you and me.......

we're gonna need a bigger boat
to keep this broken thing afloat
don't preach me your democracy
your lies, you vain hypocrisy

give the people back their right
we're mad and ready for a fight
to take away all of your riches
and shitcan all you sons of *******.


SE R

we need an epiphany
a salvation re-orientation,
for will our judgement be
only what we thought?
or is hell what we perpetuate
on soil, on man, in greed, in hate?
we live as if to win is gain,
while poor lay dying,
shows our shame;
we live as if ‘tis loss to weep,
yet this the joy we each should seek…
in loving well the least of these,
to show in smallest ways,
a lighted path to those who’ve strayed
offer hope to any castaway;
might we in doing bring
heaven to this earthly scene?
for is not earth our heaven’s womb,
a battlefield, a testing place?
is not our call to light the dark,
and take our place among the stars?


CZ (Chorus)

Every struggle in life we are built to fight
we know that in the end there will be that light


SS

Who is there minding the store?
We can't keep up anymore
All the news that we now see
Internet and our TV
Tell tales off horror
Tales of woe
How much farther will it go?
Let's be real! Can we talk?
'Bout a thing called
FUTURE SHOCK
Cause this is true... and it is hairy
What's down the pike
Is downright SCARY!
Politicians deal & flirt
Don't matter if they wear a skirt!
Go to Georgia and you'll see
What is set up for you and me
There's some stones
upon that land
Telling all that they have planned

THEY SMILE AS THEY TELL A LIE
THE ELITE WANT US TO DIE.

While they put on a great show
Underground is where they'll go
Let 'em go and live like trolls
Jesus Christ is in CONTROL.

Please consider this my friends
Everything will have to END.
Forget your prejudice and pride
You don't want to be on
THE WRONG SIDE!
Make a turn. Make a start.
Ask the Savior in your HEART!
Then I'll tell you what's in store

YOU'LL HAVE LIFE FOREVERMORE!


MZ

Something fishy in the air what happen to the black one?
I didn't see the fall until I saw Washington..
Women starting to vote and monkeys are still in the zoo?
In the 1950s they called black people apes but now I'm seeing that it's you..
Sense when did money made you feel like going for president?
"We the People" naa more like the congress are voting for you.
I think it's scam so I turn it to the kardashians,
There I find a better democratic presidential view ...why...cause she looks better lying about Mexicans,


BM

There is no one at the other end of your string and paper cup telephone prayers There is no monumental, unconditional love awaiting you between or beyond the stars There is no concern for you in the imagined patterns of the stars, Nor do they carry a plan or reason for the crashing of waves, torrent funnel winds or the malice of men There is no promised land, no reward, no heaven when you take that final step.

But you do have the power of whispers in your fellow mankind’s ear It IS YOU that carry the ability for immeasurable, inconceivable love It is us who write the plan, who give our lives reason and meaning through it all THIS life, this gift of witness IS your reward, your heaven as you wish.

The tragedies have NEVER stopped. The killing, the senseless violence, the hunger of insatiable wrath………. But nor has birth of life in many forms. In dawn, in spring, in hope. We aware, true to ourselves in dismissing of ego stand strong and confident as the Ying, the light, the counter balance........


IS

Sorrow fills this world to it's rim,
Fathers abusing mothers,
abandoning children,
Mother's cry out in pain,
little ones run in fear....
why is this world in such despair?
Born to love, born to hate, to judge, to accept...
though this concept is hard for some,
we live in this world, just hoping to survive,
Coming to the point where you never know
where love and hate draw the line.

Why do parents fight, and the kids are the ones who suffer?
Why do we make war, to find peace?
Innocent people cut down in their prime,
by those who find happiness in other's misery.
From mothers and fathers whose sons and daughter were
wrongly taken from them,
To those who are punished for being human...
Life as we know it, is going to hell.

Trust, hope, security, love, and respect for humanity
is quickly dying... The future, no longer ours to control.
From bullying to ****, to ****** and suicide, Society is no more.... We pray for things to change... for it's now out of our hands,


IRIE

Movement of time collides
with tear drop melody
darkened angel
to final day symphony:

gun blasts in homeland
enter familiar flesh-
different tongues conceal
common threads that makes us

wounded souls call for God
in bomb dimpled lands-
far from American eyed reach
and inside

amidst spiritual sands

Treading with foot print patterns
around rock’s pure holiness
meditating in temples
laden in gold tributes

seeking truth’s distant comfort

guns blast in homelands
families wonder why-

pain embraces consciousness
dripping hints of salvation
into thick Iron pools
of Christ’s calling

red horse not so distant
seven seals awakening
run back to one
it’s time to find love
...

CZ (Chorus)

Every struggle in life we are built to fight
we know that in the end there will be that light


Soulful

How old is the world?
Old enough to ruin the existance of 1000 suns
Old enough to show you what society is made of
Old enough to had withstood the apocalypse and blood shed of the technology, oil , and war on terrorism...
The world is now ruin
Perhaps I should start fron the beginning
When it was human, animalistic, with plants that existed
To understand this..
We use all the resources and save none for the next generation
We contemplate the singularity of humanism
Only using electricity to say we are wealthy
**** animals so harshly
Murdering outselves to show the superiority of the race of humans
Killing the world in which we live...
Getting deeper in to our stupidity
We solidify a type of money
Paper...
Useless, smelly, germy, filled with hate
The money most people need and yet only few gave
The mentality is simple honestly
Don't give but take
No empathy just fake
Because thats how you make it
The tragedy in "third world country"
The ignorance in those who dont update their ios 7
The forgiveness in African mutiny
And the showing of ******* economy
The people had rights they told you
The people had freedom they told you
The people had justice they told you
Until the the world went to shambles when they actually figured out they had a right to seek and destroy a government....they had the right to seek and destroy a crippled foundation for it was seeking to destroy them,


Strange

They came in guns blazing
With no warning
Just the sound of hell raging in ones ears
So many screams then there was nothing
As the first soul was vanquished from its flesh and bones
Painting a blood mural upon the once white walls
Bodies floated down the crimson river as they cried their final tears
One girl prayed to her gods hoping to deliver one final message to her son
He was two and was soon to be motherless
Another young lad was seventeen
So prideful yet so scared as he curled in a ball screaming for his mommy
"I don't want to die" was their last comment,


WR

Tragedy in life arises at birth Does not cease until Life comes to an end We cannot teach peace With one another Mostly because we do not Agree on religion It seems a bit simple And quite concise All we need to do for peace Is love one another And treat each other right
Tragedy always starts out In a human mind beautifully Equivalent to Eve's Desire for the fruit of Truth upon the tree.


CZ (Chorus)

Every struggle in life we are built to fight
we know that in the end there will be that light.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
©ABPoetry2016

http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/06/live-die-repeat-ft-chloe-zafonte-wolf.html
Avalon's Respite Nov 2015
Peter was my hero, and Wendy my first fanciful lust.
We fought villainous pirates and bloodthirsty injuns,
and when danger came near as a dark scary night
we'd grasp just one happy thought and fly away
to a brighter new day, dreamed just for us.

Such a wondrous thing, the gift of flight.
Free, unrestrained... racing the laughing crows.
It seemed so simple I just had to try,
strange how the impossible, is so attainable
within the mind of a child of five.

I turn the old phonograph way up loud,
climb upon the hassock, (added height for takeoff)
I closed my eyes intense on my one happy thought
and singing the refrain to inspire me...

"You can fly, You can fly, You can fly."

I leap...
And for barely an instant in time I really do feel the sky.
Then gravity's reality crashes me hard to the floor.
Just in time to hear them laughing,
my evil older brothers watching at the door.
They had a great time with their haughty jest
I still hear of it today, but that's OK.

We were just kids and they lacked understanding.
For I was in training; practice for a not too distant date.
Honing my inner mind to create the improbable,
even the impossible, making it all seem real.

Today the refrain is no longer needed,
nor the hassock upon which to stand.
With old age comes a far grander experience.

Leaving all trials and tribulations upon the ground
I sit back, close my eyes, silence the world around.
Reaching out with sure confidence for the sky
with that child of five's, unrestrained inner eye.

Thanks to Peter and Wendy and my early lust
those heckling crows are left far behind
in vapor trails of my receding dust.

"I can fly, I can fly
I really can fly!"



© S.Loeding
All Rights Reserved
DC raw love Jan 2015
THE MIND FIELD OF MY PAST
KIM
DONNA
LIZ
RISSA
WENDY
KIM AGIAN
NANCY
WENDY AGAIN
MARY
CHRISSY
FOR GOT HER NAME
WENDY AGAIN
LORI
CINDY
SUSAN
NO NOT YOU
TRISH
WENDY AGAIN
1
2
3
4
WENDY AGAIN
NOW HOW MANY MORE?
r Jul 2014
Elusive
like the wind.
As gentle
as a summer breeze.
With patience and love
I surround her.
Her beauty
like the sun, the moon,
the deep blue sea.
And in her eyes
the mountains
of Tennessee.
She shares her beauty
with us, with me.
I give my love
to her, my Wendy
always and forever.

r ~ 7/5/14
A request poem for my new brother-in-law, Trav. Read by him to my sister Wendy during their recent wedding.  Love you guys.
EC Pollick Mar 2013
As a previous lover of fairytales,
Disney movies
And all things for ages 5-12
I’m horrified to see myself
As a cold, callous woman.
How did I become
This?

Anytime I used to see a field
I took my shoes off
And ran barefoot.
And I soaked the earth into my skin
Until I was something more
Than just a resident—
I was part of this world.

The biggest thing I used to worry about
Was trying to find the next adventure
Which sometimes was right in my backyard.
Now all my wondering
Has to do with why
My electric bill is so high.

I comfort it
With the fact that I am just like Wendy.
I knew my time to grow up
Because Neverland was never the place for me
To stay forever.

But when my time comes
to bear children
I will spoil them rotten
With newfangled fairytales
And maybe I’ll catch them
Flying off into the night
With a lost boy who I’ve known
For quite a long time.

I will teach them to believe in the impossible
with all of their hearts.
Because even though it may in fact
Be impossible
All children
Should see the sky
Before they grow old
and have to live on the ground.
But when they do
I want them to look up
every once in a while
and Smile.
Cliffy Buglione Mar 2014
I was too happy day after day
I was too happy for it to stay that way-
I was too content to stay by her side
Used to thank God every night
But somewhere in the back of my mind
There was some doubt about that girl of mine
But even as I try all that I can
I can't remember what gave it away about Wendy Ann.

I was locked within the love we shared
So grateful of the prison there
But it was joy itself which gave away to
                             uncertainty
Which was destined to be the end of Wendy plus
                                                            ­      me.

I was going in the right direction
I was floating on her affection
My first taste of love's perfection
Was only an after-taste of rejection.
First verse and third verse same syllable, syllable breakdown of 7-13 a line. 2nd verse, no two matching amounts of syllables used. No rhythm or freestyle. No freestyle because it is deliberately freestyle. Last verse all words end in tion. Beginnings of a rhythm Beginnings of 10 9 8 7 syllables but for freedom of expression last line 11.
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...
thoughts on a tale
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
He was blown>>>>
>>>> away_--- from
my lace-up
Is She his blue
Mood tie set any bet
to walk the talk

At your own pace
The lustful wake up she
got the face

The edge of his rim sneaker
So prim who is proper
On the brim of ecstasy
He puts sugar on my tongue

Rumors like the "Talking Heads"
All in the bedding sneaker
Jane of the jungle wild tongue
She races Tarzan swinging sneakers
You and I tripped over dreams the sneaker?
Lip to lip disaster

The "Cyberwar" stepped on melting
Gold *** of tar
The loud blaster she moves the
Starwars so far

He could eat her up
his checkered black and white flag
Like a lobster claw his last draw

The racer mouth sponsor

She was born 2-B that way
sneakers love 3 some run
It's not unusual to have fun
with anyone
Her hands were far gone but
solid as a rock
Rollicking flying his rocket
Racing by her own clock Ms. Hornet


His sneaker loud love feud one
the detail on her sneaker
the wild bird of a bud

He shook me all night long
don't do an
A-C-D-C  on me
The sneaker he got the
Crazy eights
 No prank calls
Her hot buns and
Speaker- Frank-flirters
take me out to the
ball game demonized

The Anti Christ be born again
My sneaker group what a tank full
The Antitank no thanks
You cant always get what you want
and if you try sometimes
Charge all plastic but
sneakers like rubber soul

Visa hot runner Lisa no control
The American Express abdominal press
Shop until she drop's gum-drops
Your head was like a
Rolling Stone Jagger
Bigfoot sneaker Friday 13 size
That girl sweet pea Lea surprise
In the Hell, kitchen she snapped
That purr nightcap like Cleopatra

He's the Mantra so passionate fruit loopier
She's the Mona Lisa unfriendly sneaker
Your happy socks are quick
On his bell-hop feet
The sneaker riddle beat


That long meeting so *******
For time baby blue eyes Frank
on the mic
Like the jitterbug tight-knit
as sneaker print rug
Citron sharp eyes 5 Karat
Spicy hot Chili pepper
poem sonnet

The singer swung
Jazzy sneaker band
Dr. Who wears sneakers drinking
Dr. Pepper

The "Red Apple McIntosh" computer
Such a loud mouth hacker Josh
Jeweled Judy cultured pearls sneaker smash

Or her Stairmaster her
sneaker hotties ruffles have ridges
The juicy burgers dill pickles

Desperately sneaking Susan
sneakers to her affair finish line 
What a Lady Madonna
baby sneakers
at her breast rebel of hearts
I wonder how she manages to
sneaker speed the rest

Her best to out twin any talk
bullseye power walk
Buying the triplex sneaker
The loud talker 4 for 4 fame Wendy
Run like a fugitive your alias
name
Go International quite run
for your money I suppose
His sneakers up on her recliner
It wasn't her better rose
She's the high boot lady ever finer

On E-Bay selling your favorite sneakers
Those Australian Huskies biting sneakers
Such a Paws up against doggone heartbreaker

The in-crowd Flynn or another runner Lynn
Everybody is not a star or wedding crasher
Or even the right sneaker lover

Lady that lives in her homeless shoes
Are we all inside a video game
all commercials

Needing bifocals video begins
 Wynn at Sneaker Con
Joy to the world of the joystick
The sneaker of the Torah prayers of
the Temple
All dots and specs out of sneakers
More zits and pimples
I just want one-half cream
The changing Moon 1/2 Wolf
My man (Mr. Drakar) Howling toenail

French onion soup say cheese
her sneaker what a
no-brainer lightheaded breeze
You come so far sneaker trainer
And a grave site plot famous
brand sneaker
name

A million odds to one name in the
cemetery
****** Mary she flies in her
sneaker like Mary Poppins
Going under the influence
Heres looking at you kid umbrella

Hot Hollywood Taurus Bulldog
runner
We really don't have a name

We are writers and ****
good fighters single to mingle sneaker
Not the homewrecker more like the homemakers
Even sneaker has a voice and walks like singers
Shoeiverse sneaker race
became her living curse
The grin of the Grinch green sneakers
On his sled ride the lucky shamrock

I'm the happy heel
The tigress furry feel skip to my Lou
he ordered the
kids happy meal

Getting a ticket for reckless walking
Lights on or eyes wide shut
Are sneakers running for their life?

More fuel- time we get no alone time
Let's go shopping for the
new sneaker called
(Valentine only) sold one
day the sale
Singing her sneaker song a chip
device to talk back hot male
The 'Calvin Klein" dockers her ball of the foot
tennis sneakers It's her loud Owl ******-hoot

The farm girl Ralph Lauren corral
To rope her in lasso-like with morals
racing horse of different color fashion
I cannot hear you I have a hell
of a tinnitus reaction

  She-Devil bickering.>>> No heart like a sneaker
I am a snake too short to run the mile

I was too busy looking
at her long legs
On the Jet
** Plane
The most popular lady
in her sneakers 

Viper car and strings attachments
Ms. Love lace the shoelaces
with hearts
She is tied to his ankles
like condiments
Like Sweet cherries what a
bomb kicker sneaker
The Southern Belle runner
Be the stunner the trucker roadrunner

Hail to Mary the sneaker
Queen of Sheba
Turn on the radio Country singer Reba
What a sneaker rating ratio

When she bent down the crisscross
Watch out cross my heart trainer

Cross my heart and hope to die
To get slimmer
I am the happy sneaker
all the moods hot goods
(Hey Robin Hood)
stealing a rich man and poor women
which is the witch

One string said pull me the
other one said you feel like a
Chrome lead sleepy feet go to bed

Like Beer and pretzels
What an insane sneaker hazard
Hospital beepers sneaker virus
stepped on the most expensive
Venus, I beg you to run
lips we travel bullets and stars
We just want some fun

Marathon key just one clicker
That strawberry shortcake
Versus the "Cherry Bomb"
The Prince and the Pauper
what a toad kisser
That army tanker hurry up
lunch or brunch
What a Patriot Brady bunch

My shoelaces became like a
firecracker candy bar crunch

Who is the loser lover
or the winner
The long trip almost at the end
of the race
What a rivalry those shot glasses
at random
The sneaker fandom

Smile to me if you're not
wearing anything
but sneakers
My wings the wifi cute feet just
say Hi

No, I saw a man 600 pounds
of Reebok gold way too
much belly roll fat
The Dr. Seuss cat in the hat

Nike in the air Robin
bird skydivers
Dark matter gold diggers
Movie (It) Stephen King
skateboard

Penny feet relaxer
The Wise clown got her
The sneakers comedians
Seinfeld stand up sneaker
To be dead or wed Kleinfeld
Exotic sneakers and
cars he made a home run
Hot hell ring my bell
You made me happy
I got to first base

And you all sync into
one of a kind sneaker
Mom Robin the singer
No, I saw a man-eating
out of his sneaker
His head up in the Nike air
Oh! all hell breaks footloose
computer looking
up the sneaker sales

All I am doing is clicking
with a mouse
Where is my lover
sneaker twin, my spouse
This is about a trip not on an airplane flight more down to earth long walk star gazers or runners and clickers but its a comedy around all names and hot runner shes the firecracker don't  eat her at her game

— The End —