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Little Boy

I saw this angelic little boy
eyes so blue, big head of blond curls,
which he'll probable bemoan in years to come,
gorgeous smile

I realise he's on his own,
can't be more than three
I get down on my hunkers and spread my arms
he doesn't hesitate not even for a second
Oh, the innocence of him as he jumps into my arms
and clasps me in a wondrous hug
I try to get him to talk but he just keeps squeezing my nose
and breaking into fits of laughter
he's adorable
I place him down, and take his hand
I noticed things I hadn't seen his little hands grubby
his skin peeling and sore
his beautiful curls all knotted
and bless him, not a nice smell

I decide to walk him around
see can i find who he belongs to
then this woman comes running, screaming
she grabs him, and slaps him
I'm stunned, he doesn't even cry
he turns and gives me a resigned shrug
what I thought was innocence was pure joy
in someone willing to give a bit of attention
this was a little boy who didn't cry
he's mature beyond his years
he's long since learnt no point in tears
as the woman screams "Have ya no children of your own, leave mine alone"

She looks high, I wish I could take this little mite
but what gives me the right
he says "sorry, mommy" takes her hand and leads her home
I just might take that little boy next time he decides to roam

Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
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Comments

something like a combination of narrative, prose and poetry. I really like the theme, but it's a little hard to get a rhythm going here. I would love to see you do this in rhyme, I think it would lend it'self nicely to it. Strong emotions make for great work. ~ Geezer

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Hi geezer I'm a rhymer at heart and this my 2nd attempt at free verse which is not a natural for for me find it very challenging maybe I should see can I make it rhyme thanks so much for gr8 feedback glad u get the emotion all the best x

author comment

Yeah its a great episode and you have some nicely observed details, it's really a short prose piece but i don't think that means it isn't appropriate here. I'd keep it all prose and not have the last rhyming verse. Its not really poetry because it lacks poetic devices inherent in free verse, ie intensity of expression, imagery, word play, rhythm/flow etc. I think the only way to learn how to write free verse is to read lots of it. Your own Seamus Heaney is very good at it.

very sad to see children suffer

all the best
Ross

i don't really know what prose is i just write what i feel lol i was trying free verse here but still rhymed thanks for the gr8 feedback all the best x

author comment

I agree for once with Ross! LOL ...I've re-written your first stanza just as a way of showing you that you could shape this to make it more into freeform. It's good you're experimenting. I'm the reverse, i'm trying to be stricter with my rhyming! LOL

'I saw this angel-
blue-eyed boy
big blond curls
no doubt
bemoaned
about
in years to come'....

It's just a thought...I enjoyed it as a narrative and the twist from angel to little devil half way through the piece.

'Betty' :)

thanks so much Betty so glad u enjoyed and for the informative feedback much appreciated x

author comment

A well told tale full of joy and sadness. How privileged we were in kindergarten in Norway, before EU came along, we could hug and even toss them over our shoulder laughing, like parents; now in GB no one is allowed to touch them for more than a moment, or they will say one is molesting the child. We shall sure bring up little members of a society that way, but lack the spontaneity of love that comes naturally to all children.

I agree with the above comments, but I enjoyed it as it is, even though its form isn't this or that, its prose, and as such I agree that the end rhyming was slightly surprising, it didn't need to.

We had a workshop on the difference between poetry and prose, the borders of each encroach on each other, but when writing poetry of free verse style its the music of it that makes it poetry, either in the sounds, or the repeats, or some kind of pattern that makes it kind of lilt along like a song. I speak only from my own experience of such, I am not specialist on form, that's judyanne who is 'mistress' of that I think here.

Maybe what I wrote about poetry and prose is still in here on a blog of mine, I must have a look.

Love Ann of Norway

P.S. I found my Poetry versus Prose is still on my blog, if you want!

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

Hi must have a look at your blog since i write for fun but am willing to try and learn which is why i tried free verse and i quite like this little story thanks so much for reading and for helpful advice have a gr8 day cheers x

author comment

was very chuffed to see you've transformed this

I saw this angelic (little) boy --little is implied by angelic and said later in the poem
eyes so blue, big head of blond curls,
which he'll probable bemoan in years to come, ---probably, I don't like this N comment, too prosaic
gorgeous smile

(I realise) he's on his own, --more precise
can't be more than three
I get down on my hunkers and spread my arms--like hunkers new word for me
he doesn't hesitate, not (even) for a second---omit redundant
Oh, the innocence (of him) as he jumps into my arms---again redundant
and clasps me in a wondrous hug
I try to get him to talk but he (just) keeps squeezing my nose--'just' is a meaningless conversational filler, I use it all the time but try to delete it.
and breaking into fits of laughter
he's adorable --a bit obvious
I place him down, and take his hand
I noticed things I hadn't seen, his little hands grubby
his skin peeling and sore--needs to be more specific, skin implies all his skin
his beautiful curls all knotted--
and bless him, not a nice smell

I decide to walk him around
see can I find who he belongs to--this seems a very irish way of saying this, like it
then this woman comes running, screaming
she grabs him, and slaps him
I'm stunned, he doesn't even cry
he turns and gives me a resigned shrug
(what I thought was innocence was pure joy
in someone willing to give a bit of attention
this was a little boy who didn't cry
he's mature beyond his years
he's long since learnt no point in tears) --I think ths authorial comment is unnecessary, the reader gets all this from the scene you describe
as the woman screams "Have ya no children of your own, leave mine alone"

She looks high,( I wish I could take this little mite
but what gives me the right)--again N's comment unnecessary
he says "sorry, mommy" takes her hand and leads her home
(I just might take that little boy next time he decides to roam) let the events tell the story, N's comment unnecessary.

My only other crit is you should try to use images to paint the picture rather than adjectives eg angelic, wondrous, gorgeous. The idea is to recreate through images an imaginitve response in the reader, rather than simply an intellectual understanding eg gorgeous can apply to a fashion model, a meal, a horse almost anything but an image eg a smile opens like a flower (not a great image, but you get the idea).

This is a wonderful story, the drama of the high mum and her comment, the details, it's very moving, well told and easily accessable.
thanks for posting
ross

Hi Ross I reworked this about 3 times made changes and each time I want to save the changes it reverts back to original format I don't know what I'm doing wrong any advice x

author comment

I really appreciate your comprehensive feedback I will take all your advice on board thanks Ross for being so kind with your time all the best Susan x

author comment
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