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When Once I was Ten ~ (September Contest)

She, the lady, comes and calls,
Calling as the evening falls.
By the bright of firelight
She, the lady, comes at night.

She, my mistress, comforts me
And shows me how I used to be
She, my mistress, snugs me so...
She, my home of long ago.

 

Where I lived when I was ten
I sometimes think of there, and then,
When I'm drowsing in my chair
My dozy thoughts go back to there.

I rest nearby a fireside glare
Glass in hand and here is where
I think of things I used to do
When I was merely eight and two.

This was when my world was new,
In the hours before I grew,
Out the door and down the way,
This is where I used to play.

When all the words I used to say
Concerned such things as came that day.
All the songs I used to sing
And all the joy that they would bring.

No more I live where I was king
Yet still the memories from there ring.
I've been aside so long a time
Yet still the memories from there chime.

So as I dream of days, sublime;
As recollections higher climb;
I sometimes, now, remember when...
And how I wish that I was ten.

 

 

 

 

 

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

It must be so very wonderful to have a childhood memory of a home you loved, this is so very musical and I really enjoyed indulging in your childhood memory.

Thank you...Teddy

I look forward to reading your entry in the September contest. It is quite difficult to personify a place I think. After the contest I will remove the prologue and just keep six stanzas aa,bb, bb,cc, cc,dd and so on.

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Critique is a compliment
Kind regards, Alan
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author comment

Hi Alan, I love your "song of childhood". Yes, having lovely memories of childhood helps one get through any tragedies that come later on.
Your end rhymes are perfect, the content is clarity itself and I like everything you share with us.
To whom does the prologue belong?
Best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

I am pleased that you enjoyed 'When Once I Was Ten'. 'She' (in the prologue) is the memory of a childhood home personified. The prologue doesn't follow the rhyming pattern of the body of the poem, so hopefully the reader separates the first two stanzas from the remaining six. I will probably dispose of the prologue later and shorten to only the six.

.......................................
Critique is a compliment
Kind regards, Alan
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author comment

if I was ever ten... nice piece you have here. Seems like soooo long ago. Your rhyming is spectacular!

Thanks for looking in. Ten? That was sixty years ago for me, remember it well though. First time I rode a horse, first time I fired a gun, first time I had my own dog ~ and (I think) the first time I ever encountered Rudyard Kipling ('The Way Through The Woods'). Ah yes, I remember it well.

.......................................
Critique is a compliment
Kind regards, Alan
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author comment
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