Never Land Again Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Never Land Again

Rating: 5.0


Why there isn’t a sound outside-
The sea is so far away, in a thimble,
In a fairy-tale of threes:
Three little pigs, or
Three Billy goat’s bluff, or
The Pardoner’s Tale- Three petals
Left of limpid seashell,
Because the waves have gone away from here-
They have gone far from shore-
Little girls are putting seaweed into pails,
And there isn’t a mother around-
Will they ever come back from the uncanny
Shoals, or will they disappear like magic tricks?

There isn’t anyone on the swings,
And runaways are not inside their grandmothers’
Cars: I don’t know where they are,
But even here there are plastic bouquets in
Tin horns crawling with ants,
And rows of powdery sororities fast asleep
Like royal crypts;
And sweet, lonely men dancing naked before
Their mirrors,
Physics professors who look like Jimmy Stewart,
Who are my great uncles,
And the heads of their seven day departments,
Water skiing on blacksmithed lakes;

And I am going away too
On a silent ship into a silent room,
Leaving behind all those things that never called,
Leaving behind the most foggy of seasons:
Going to where the gas-lights stay on all night for
Truckers, where lovers always seem to slip away,
Disheartened, where there are always vending machines,
The land striped in fast-food chains and folderol,
Where my father is fast asleep and snoring,
Dreaming of bygone cliffs teaming of conquistadors
And blanketed Andalusians;
Where the motels go quietly rattling;

But where there are no alligators,
Or Mickey Mouses,
The tourists in southerly streaming motorcades;
Or girls who know my name and say it
Like blowing cigar smoke out their nostrils-
But these don’t exist:
The sea has come back like in a silent movie
And reclaimed the good-looks of their leading
Men,
And the sweet smelling stewardesses of
Airplanes never land again:

This is where I dream I belong,
Looking up the chicken-wire tresses of egg-shell
Castles,
Catching soldered mermaids from the shivering bathtub of
The next wave’s caesura:
But the parade is over and the little girls
Have vanished;
There is no one left to throw rose petals:
I am going somewhere they don’t exist,
On a green rollercoaster under the sun of
Super villain comic books-
I am dropping fast and the movie is almost over:
I am going somewhere that doesn’t exist.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ashraful Musaddeq 14 May 2009

Stunning composition. Last line is wonderful. 10++

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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