My Boy

My boy aren’t you tired
Of resting upon cold rocks?
Please wake up, for your own good,
Before your wisdom
Spontaneously combusts.

When was the last time
That you beheld the rising of a crimson sun?
When was the last time, a nightingale perched
Atop that weathered branch by your window
While you harkened to its elfin song?

Sometimes, you should only stare at the moon
Do it my love ere the break of dawn,
Ere the break of fast
You will become my own,
Naught but reflections on a mirrored wall,
And marvel in the glistening dust
All the little things that make you wonder
Where exactly was it,
That you became lost.

You should dance more
And laugh more
As not to cry again, from this moment hence forth
Because you know that you are dying,
Dying since the day, you were welcomed home.

But who was it that first cried “fire”?
Child, Godspeed when asking your mother,
Even after you find her answer
Less satisfying than that of God.

Pray still, for the sake of yourself.
Do not forget that you are the prayer maker
And, forget me not,
For am I not the one,
Whoso alone prays for you and your sleep?
Now be gone.
Before the heralds of the sky,
Remembering what you have done
Begin to crave your soul.

Hey It's 3:41am here in Australia, so if this review isn't coherent, I apologize :3

First, I'm not entirely sure what this poem was supposed to be about. It had no trend, no stanza structure... it seemed to be a mix of random thoughts that you've tried to tie together, but it really didn't make sense. So, I'll review stanza by stanza

Brontes wrote:My boy aren’t you tired
Of resting upon cold rocks?
Please wake up, for your own good,
Before your wisdom
Spontaneously combusts.

So. What exactly are you trying to say here? What is "cold rocks" a metaphor for? Why would wisdom randomly explode?

When was the last time
That you beheld the rising of a crimson sun?
When was the last time, a nightingale perched
Atop that weathered branch by your window
While you harkened to its elfin song?

This was nice imagery. I enjoyed this part, and I wish the rest of the poem was like this. I could imagine this whole stanza and it really sets the mood. The whole first stanza could be deleted and this second stanza could become the first, and the poem would benefit.

Sometimes, you should only stare at the moon
Do it my love ere the break of dawn,
Ere the break of fast
You will become my own,
Naught but reflections on a mirrored wall,
And marvel in the glistening dust
All the little things that make you wonder
Where exactly was it,
That you became lost.

I don't quite get the beginning of this. The last half is great, from "All the little things" onwards was understandable and makes sense. But the beginning... I read it as, "At the break of dawn, stare at the moon. At breakfast, you will become my own. My own is a reflection on a mirror... covered in sparkly dust." I don't get what you're trying to say with it. And everything has reflections. So "naught but reflections" makes almost no sense.

You should dance more
And laugh more
As not to cry again, from this moment hence forth
Because you know that you are dying,
Dying since the day, you were welcomed home.

This stanza is good, because it makes sense. The highlighted part is something you might want to consider rewriting because crying is a part of life.

But who was it that first cried “fire”?
Child, Godspeed when asking your mother,
Even after you find her answer
Less satisfying than that of God.

I really have no idea what this means. At all. I get the asking a question of my mother, but how could any answer she would give me be less satisfying than that given by God? God doesn't speak to me. The last time God did anything miraculous was 2000 years ago.

Pray still, for the sake of yourself.
Do not forget that you are the prayer maker
And, forget me not,
For am I not the one,
Whoso alone prays for you and your sleep?

I broke this stanza into two, as it seems to flow better like this. I don't get who the narrator of this story is. Is it the father? I have no idea...

Now be gone.
Before the heralds of the sky,
Remembering what you have done
Begin to crave your soul.

And this makes me even more confused. I assume by "heralds of the sky" you mean angels. And the only reason why angels would crave a soul is if the soul was pure and the person did fantastic things. What fantastic thing could this person have done? It's just... I just don't know what you were trying to convey with this poem.

I think you should try your hand at narrative poetry. You have a real flair for descriptive clauses, and I really enjoyed the second stanza. But the rest was confusing. Probably because I'm sleep deprived :3

- Jai

Why would angels only consider someone who has a pure soul? No, the person wasn't good nor pure.