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Click hereFault
Stranded childhood
Marooned on the island of memory
When the geography of the soul was simple
You were!
And so was the world
( -- with clear, known bounds)
And happy was the belief
That so it will be
Then one learnt -- the days
Are life
And to be alive in the world
One has to do!
Stranded childhood
Whimsies of the heart
From me torn apart
The isthmus of return
Sundered
By the fault of growing up
marginal compared to the poems you posted when you first came on Lit, are you trying too hard? I think so...
The imagery leaps out and speaks volumes more than the words in which it is dressed. A new, powerful voice.
Childhood must be kept afloat by playing with it frequently. One never need be grown up--"stranded". Just consider yourself to be the same person, the child you were born, accruing time and memory, and in growth, not completed. How can one find fault in that?