you asked Why the title was To the Lost Boys . . . and the last line only refers to one . . . there's always another, they show up here and there, sometimes one at a time, sometimes in twos and threes, and they tend to sit around a while, listening to my words, gathering hope enough to light out again
My Review
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Okay! your muse has swam ashore and you are ready to kick a*s. See? it is all in the attitude. Those lost boys should bow down and kiss them toes of yours. It doesn't take, magic fairy dust, but rather...your wholesome presense and whispered voice, to appreciate all that you are. This piece should be encouraging to all the lost boys. Thank you
I like how you draw upon the idea of Peter Pan and Neverland with your illusions. At the same time, you refresh that classic story with poetry that is uniquely yours. Organic lines in the third stanza capture the heart of the season really portray the speaker as a steadfast woman. I really love the first three lines of the fourth stanza.
Clearly the pop culture references are lost in me on this one. Sorry.
Though what do you think of the poet Sara Teasdale?
This piece is a feel-good piece though clearly, with effective lyricism and refrains, bringing a brimming easy release of poetic potentiality!
Out of your archives eh, 2009? What's up with 2013?
Posted 11 Years Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
11 Years Ago
I like Sara Teasdale and Edna St. Vincent Millay. Though Emily Dickinson is the queen of my poetic w.. read moreI like Sara Teasdale and Edna St. Vincent Millay. Though Emily Dickinson is the queen of my poetic world. 2013 is still young, there will be words.
This is a beautiful write, a write about the universality that is motherhood. The mothers pass on the love, the kindness, the nurturing I see that here.
This poem deserves all the good reviews it has got - what I think is really impressive is the way it transports images with direct, strong language, it doesn`t get lost in metaphors but with astounding visuality brings its message across, great poem.
to the Lost Boys
I am no Wendy;
but my voice brings you back to me.
And you sit around my feet,
anxious for a story
or a kiss.
Listening to my words
spinning adventures,
like so much g.. more..