Notes About The Poem

Meter - Mainly Dactylic Tetrameter, but with some variation to give a "Free Verse" feel.

Rhyme - A mixed,  transitional rhyme that crosses over from stanza to stanza to give it a "Free Verse" feel.

Thanks,

Gene.

Billy

On a street long ago 
with a sidewalk and curb, 
Back when houses seemed huge, 
In a child's wide-eyed way.
 
On a screen porch, played quietly, 
As not to disturb. 
For my mother was having 
A headache that day.

All the front yards were deep, 
Nestled back from the street. 
With a walkway of concrete 
And large, shady trees. 

Every morning, I waited 
to yell, then retreat, 
When the giant man walked by, 
never noticing me. 

All I knew was the little 
They let children know, 
That he lived with his mother, 
On the far side of town.
 
He was big and slumped over 
And walked very slow. 
Not a person remembered 
Him utter a word. 

As he passed by our walkway, 
I readied my shout, 
Then remembered, "Play quietly", 
Mom's head hurt today.
 
I recall as he stopped, 
Slowly turning about, 
Then he started his blunderous
Footsteps my way. 

I was puzzled and frozen,  
A chill up my spine. 
When he reached our front steps, 
I could hear mother say,
 
"Hello Billy", then ask 
if his mom was okay,
As she latched the screen door,
Nudging me back away. 

Mother always recounted 
What happened that day. 
And she spoke of the good heart 
That lay deep within.
 
It was only that once 
I missed shouting his way.
Billy worried, not hearing 
His four year old friend. 


Gene Bourne
08-17-14
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Carney Avatar
November 29, 2014 at 7:53 AM
This is a side I have not seen....prose, and the discourse had me enthralled. My thoughts were invaded by Boo Radley in "To Kill A Mockingbird" ..... often times on site things we may initially perceive with fear are instead a person showing concern, but may have a large or unusual physical appearance. Very good Gene. The rolled and read almost meter-like but in prose. Thanks, but also, hoping and praying for you, that you are well. Happy Thanksgiving. Thomas
Mcdaid Avatar
October 28, 2014 at 11:10 AM
love how you penned this gene beautifully painted piece
Costello Avatar
August 31, 2014 at 11:17 AM
Gene- so much imagery, description -you brought your reader there watching the memory all unfold-lovely write. :-) Christine
Bourne Avatar
August 31, 2014 at 2:49 PM
Thanks, Christine...This poem is only one of very few poems I've written that is biographical and actually happened... I would yell once. When Billy didn't react, I would yell one more time, "Hey, Mister Man". The fact he never reacted, I thought he never heard me. I found out he indeed did and my "yell" was part of his morning routine....Your friend, Gene.
George   Avatar
August 23, 2014 at 7:55 PM
Love this...love this... You have captured a childhood memory...the kind that sear themselves upon the very depth of our soul...never to be forgotten. Truly Wonderful writing, Gene. bfn Your friend in poetry, Elaine
Bourne Avatar
August 24, 2014 at 12:59 AM
Thank you very much, Elaine. This is biographical and I was the four year old. I think I always yelled, "Hey, Mr man". Those and other special moments do sear themselves forever in our minds. Billy was "shell shocked", as they called it, from WW2. This had to have been 1959. Again, your comments are much apprecated...Your friend...Gene
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace