safe harbor



the places of my youth   neverland 

wonderland   the hundred acre woods    

the wild woods   the secret garden   the 

barn where charlotte built her web   and 

all the people and animals and tinkerbells

and all the make-believe that inhabited

those worlds   made my world that much more 

magical   and my world was already magical   

come the present i look for magic in 

our backyard   or the patio of the vineyard 

sipping wine with colin and his grandfather   

finding much of the greater world unmagical   

more wonderland than not   unsettling

at best   terrifying at worst   allowing myself 

to indulge in revery   and write of worlds 

that are not   i do it for the shelter   the sanctity








Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2021-06-23 at 05:26

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Michael R. Burch
I like your poem. In interesting synchronicities:

"Charlotte's Web" was the first book that made me cry.

I have a poem titled "Safe Harbor" that I wrote for my friend the poet Kevin N. Roberts. It was about finding a safe harbor from the "real world" in the imagination.

Just tonight I shared a poem with FT about seeking out and living in the Not.

I once lived in my grandfather's house in England for two years while my father was serving on an American air base in Thule, Greenland, where dependents were not allowed. I had an Uncle Colin and my grandmother would make wine out of exotic things like elderberries, although I was too young to drink.

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
If the environment in which you find yourself doesn't suit you, build another. Good idea.

Steven Riddle The PoetBay support member heart!
Evocative and lovely. It is very interesting to see how different reactions are to wonderland. ON the other hand, as you point out—surrealism, the dream world, is distinctly unmagical as opposed to some of those other childhood destinations. I love the distinction you make here and the vague sadness of the nostalgia v. the present. Finely wrought.