Prose poem - Moving Day

[Cooper]

Moving Day

As I carried the final box into the house, a small child appeared in front of me beyond the gate. His face and clothes were dirty from hours spent outside, and there were no shoes on his feet, only exposed soles that were black underneath. He looked up at me and asked,
‘Do you want to play?’ and at this harmless question, I watched the small boy, kneeling in the dirt, gaze softly towards the ground. ‘I’m sorry,’ I replied moving nearer to the house. ‘I’m too old, too busy for that now’
The words had no effect on him, as he knelt his hands were twisting, as if carefully weaving a ball between. When I looked closer my eyes observed a dark spider making it’s home there, the boy blissfully unafraid. I wondered for a moment how many other people this boy had asked to play, and enquired,
‘Where do you live little boy?’
‘The house with the flag’ he replied, there was a small pause before he continued, ‘would you like to hold him?’ He turned and presented his cupped hands to me, still kneeling barefoot in the dirt.
‘I’m sorry‘, I said, now at the door to the house. I’m too old, too busy for that now.’ As I stepped inside I caught sight of him and his friend being shooed away by my Father.
When all was quiet and boxes empty I went outside again to look for the boy. I found no trace of him and saw no flag fly. I sat thoughtfully for a while by the gate, staring into the Earth and its insects. I saw that for all our countless number, the boy had not found love amongst his own. Instead cherishing those which are trampled underfoot and strike fear into so many.

[wildmountainthyme]

neat and tidy cooper. good wee read, that's how the world is sometimes, pretty sad.
dan

[Suzanne]

The ending was fresh. I know it was not happy and fresh but it was not what I expected.
The piece reminded me, somehow? of Shel Silverstein's "The Giving Tree" which has a different sort of sad ending.
I liked the simplicity of the words, it would have lost something intimate if you would have gone into a lot of descriptive detail.

Thanks, nice work,
Suzanne

[Oskar]

Yep, definitely written from an outsider's point of view. You've produced a rather poignant scenario that you manage to unfold in a measured way. Your last line message is a good 'un, but perhaps a little too strident in tone?

I agree with Suzanne about it having echoes of Shel Silverstein. You reminded me of this little beauty -


The Little Boy and the Old Man

Said the little boy, 'Sometimes I drop my spoon.'
Said the little old man, 'I do that too'.
The little boy whispered, 'I wet my pants'.
'I do that too', laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, 'I often cry'.
The old man nodded, 'So do I'.
'But worst of all', said the boy, 'it seems
grown-ups don't pay attention to me'.
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
'I know what you mean', said the little old man.

[brianedwards]

Hi Cooper,

More prose than poem I think and definitely not a prose poem. It is also riddled with cliche and redundant modifiers.

B.

~

[Raine]

I have to agree with Brianedwards with regard to cliche and the over use of language. I also failed to fully engage with the characters so come the end I really didn't care. This however, might just be a sad reflection on my aging cynicism and certainly shouldn't be taken to heart.
People frequently advise aspiring writers to keep trying but often the problem is that they are trying too hard. That's what's wrong here I think. It's nothing that can't be fixed.