LAST OF THE LOST BOYS

Hidden in a wooden hollow
lost boys answer to one man,
it is not the Pan they follow,
he would be an also-ran.
Lost boys search within themselves,
and not in some delinquent elf.
Childhood will melt away,
no more in Neverland to stay!!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

For dVerse Poets Pub – Quadrille 5 (Using the word “melt”)

OH, CAPTAIN!

ROBIN WILLIAMS 1951-2014
ROBIN WILLIAMS
1951-2014

Your journey has ended,
by your hand and much too soon.
You, the buffoon, the clown, the genius
bringing joy to the world.
But, for what it’s worth, who gave you mirth?
Your torment was an illness,
your illness was your privacy.
In the shadows of a mind so sharp,
that spark of madness run amok.
You had been stuck for a while
and the smile you wore tore your heart
to shreds. We laughed at your brand,
and demanded more of you
but, you had given enough.
It is tough that you didn’t save
some for yourself. We took you
seriously when your dramatics
gripped us. It ripped us as well,
your living hell of which you would tell,
of powders and pills and rivulets
of distilled potions, notions of answers
left un-questioned; too many to mention.
You’ve gone back to the egg.
You have been silenced like Ellen James.
Long did you stand as the grown-up Pan.
You have sucked the marrow out of this life.
There is no Doubt (the) fire has gone out.
It makes us want to shout,
Oh Captain, My Captain!
Thank you for your gift,
we’ve enjoyed it while it lasted.
And in our hearts you will live within a smile.
What dreams may come, you will greet us.
You will meet us with a joke in tow.
We know your journey has ended.
The Genie has been freed.
The Buffoon. The Clown.
The Genius indeed. Oh, Captain,
Bon Voyage!

© Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

BETWEEN NEVERLAND AND OZ

I spend my days in a haze,
one foot in Neverland
the other in Oz.
I’m just a lost boy
who wants to go home.
Shadows have been sewn
and yellow brick roads
show the way, but
I’d just as soon have stayed
in one place. I would shoot
the moon in the lagoon
as I disgraced
the hook-handed bandit,
and once landed in
Munchkinville, I could surely
have stood above the crowd.
But, wicked witches are less bitches
and more just manipulative wenches.
I’m not happy giving claps to fairies
And in the trenches Smee
would flee from a battle with me.
Yet, my heart and mind become unraveled
traveling between Neverland and Oz,
that’s because the second star to the right
is no place like home!

 

(C) Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014

POETIC ASIDES APRIL PAD – DAY 2: TRAVEL

 

WHERE HOPE FINDS ME

Lost Boys Scheming
Lost Boys Scheming

Lost boys never quit dreaming,
scheming of ways to stand their ground
with a new found respect for their abilities;
the agility of a Pan, and the nervous sense
of self not withstanding. Demanding much
from what hope they can muster, they may
get flustered from time to time, but are never
out of the game; never the same, they become
stronger the longer in the tooth they find themselves.
Old gents hold those glowing embers well into their
Decembers. They remain members of life’s fraternity.
Battles waged and lost, and hard-fought victories
over hook handed bandits lands us firmly on our feet,
ready if we chose to roam. But the hope of lost boys will
eventually bring them home when villains are vanquished.

(C) Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014