Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

"Littleton" [Rewritten for rhyme pattern #1]...

Littleton’s son, Littleton’s son
His father loved to beat him
The poor kid was a bastard-child
Born of just a whim

Pokers of fire, glowing red
Were instruments of torture
Burning flesh and salty tears
On one so immature

Red Beard, Red Beard is so feared
No one knows he’s haunted
His daylight hours are dreadful
His nightmares keep him taunted

Stained cloak of dun, clutched closer still
Backyard grave is guarded well
Littleton’s son is buried there
In his father’s private Hell

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Last few words: 
In the interest of making it more SS, I compressed and shortened Ron's work. Hope I didn't violate the spirit of the workshop rules. ~ Gee
Editing stage: 

Comments

This was a hard one, until I looked at all the pieces. Then I put them back together as best I could with Freddy Kruger in mind. LOL. The sing-song little ditty [I can't remember the words that they used], was just the thing! You are right, I can imagine some little kids making up a rhyme like this as they skip rope. Thanks for your comments, ~ Gee

Please acknowledge critique and comments.
They are a vital part of our community!
Critique or comment today!

author comment

It's great how you left the heart of it in there.

Thanks!

Ron

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

until I got it right. I knew that I had to get the whole story. I liked it very much and I wanted to do it justice. Glad you liked what I did. ~ Gee

Please acknowledge critique and comments.
They are a vital part of our community!
Critique or comment today!

author comment

People often pay for their wrongdoings by creating their own hell on earth. I think you're the first in this shop to use this particular pattern in a rewrite and it worls well here..................stan

Glad I did it right. Looking forward to the next phase. ~ Gee

Please acknowledge critique and comments.
They are a vital part of our community!
Critique or comment today!

author comment

I think Gee did a wonderful job with my piece. Still I think my last quatrain is stong and blatantly an inspiration of Gee's:

In a frenzy, he smashed his door to run
he found naught outside, no stars, moon, or sun
Littleton screamed kneeling clutching his gun
Hell is first lonely, each made for just one

While surely not the most accurate critic of my work. I think the last quatrain kicks butt.

Ron

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

but i thought we were supposed to make our rewrites less ss
what a hoot

but really, you had no choice with ron's write - i don't think he could write ss if he tried (that's a compliment ron btw just in case you were wondering - i'm talking stan's version of what ss is for the purpose of this workshop)

anyway gee
i really love this write

but would you put ron's poem on here too so we can see it to compare?
love judy
xxx

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

Littleton's fun was to torture his son
The hearth fire roared but of heat there was none
space where old angers restore, cold, unwon
paths worn ancient scorn, past hurts redone

old manclutched his cloak of stained and worn dun
sweat poured small rivers, he could not outrun
grave in backyard guarded by Littleton
if death is pain's surcease he's just begun

pokers in fireplace, glowed red overdone
knew flesh cauterized meat slowly spun
until eyes grew film and life was undone
tearful and fearful all sanity shun

long red beard assures he's feared, not outdone
though daytimes are dreadfilled, his nightmares stun
waking hours haunted towers rerun
murder isn't easy when it's your son

In a frenzy, he smashed his door to run
he found naught outside, no stars, moon, or sun
Littleton screamed kneeling clutching his gun
Hell is first lonely, each made for just one

Rewrite
Littleton's son, Lttleton's son
His father loved to beat him
The poor kid was a bastard-child
Born of just a whim

Pokers of fire, glowing red
Were instruments of torture
Burning flesh and salty tears
On one so immature

Red Beard Redbeard is so feard
No one knows he's haunted
His daylight hours are dreadful
His nightmares keep him taunted

He smashes doors, outside he runs
Knees jellied and gun clenched in hand
No stars or moon or daylight
A lonely Hell, is where he'll stand

Stained cloak of dun, clutched closer still
Backyard grave is guarded well
Littleton's son is buried there
In his father's own private Hell

Since Ron was so upset that I deleted that verse, I decided
to write one to replace it. I stuck it in where I thought it should go.
~Geezer

Please acknowledge critique and comments.
They are a vital part of our community!
Critique or comment today!

author comment

I was never upset. My concept was that this man did something dire (killing his son) and found that he couldn't escape the hell he was in, though he'd been there for some time without knowing. I'm sorry if you thought I was pissed. Not at all. The reason I responded as I did was because of this quote:"Hello
Workshop critique: RHYME PATTERNS (part 1) let's begin
People often pay for their wrongdoings by creating their own hell on earth. I think you're the first in this shop to use this particular pattern in a rewrite and it worls well here..................stan"

My intent was to make it clear that the 'personal hell' was the climax to my original write. I never meant anything by it especially to you. I thought you treated my work with genuine respect and did a good job doing it.

Ron

BlueDemon77

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

think you were pissed, just a little upset that I left out that one verse. You are right, I tried hard to treat your work with respect. [Not that it didn't deserve it]. And I did try hard to do it justice. Thanks for the acknowledgement.~ Gee

Please acknowledge critique and comments.
They are a vital part of our community!
Critique or comment today!

author comment
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.