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A Barefoot Boy

Rating: 2.8

A barefoot boy! I mark him at his play --
For May is here once more, and so is he, --
His dusty trousers, rolled half to the knee,
And his bare ankles grimy, too, as they:
Cross-hatchings of the nettle, in array
Of feverish stripes, hint vividly to me
Of woody pathways winding endlessly
Along the creek, where even yesterday
He plunged his shrinking body -- gasped and shook --
Yet called the water 'warm,' with never lack

Of joy. And so, half enviously I look
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Me Poet Yeps Poet 10 May 2019

/, /, / Lead kindly into the night with hubby aright be faithful all night and life be a good wife nothing and no one but your husband is right he will take care of you only if you always lead him KINDLY into the night till twilight all your life and I was right me poet yeps poet

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Me Poet Yeps Poet 10 May 2019

, , , , , , , , , , , , , Lead Kindly Into The Night - Poem by me poet yeps poet I once composed LEAD GENTLY INTO THE NIGHT A poem for a Virgin who was always afraid of a man was married and taken away to a far off land she had none of her trusted ones at hand thus me poet yeps poet

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Terry Craddock 05 June 2015

Yesterday Years: Eternal Childhood Fleeting this is the dream childhood to play endlessly during eternal summer days to barefoot explore get indifferent dirty delight in adventures imagination interacting with internalized nature swimming carefree days like an otter orbits waters leaping from bank to streams surface to depth wonders before adulthood responsibilities cage close opportunity windows Copyright © Terence George Craddock Inspired by the poem 'A Barefoot Boy' by James Whitcomb Riley. Dedicated to the poet James Whitcomb Riley.

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Terry Craddock 09 October 2014

This is the dream childhood, to play endlessly during summer days, to barefoot explore, get dirty, delight in adventures of imagination interacting with nature, swimming carefree days before responsibilities of adulthood, beautifully written.

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John Richter 09 October 2014

The Great Child's Poet! I lived in his home town for years as a younger man. I've always pictured him sitting upon his porch on a warming summer day, as I suppose was most customary in his day, as perchance neighbor children out to play, might slovenly come round his way. And he with great authority might say, the things that make them boys at play....

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Ramesh Rai 23 December 2013

The poet has poured all his soul.

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The poet is drawing mere comparisons between the sound produced by the barefoot boy's toe-nails and that produced when those who have pocketbook clasp on it; the poet isn't saying this has one. The poet closed his with a simile, not a metaphor. This poem is the epitome of an imagery - the poet creates in the reader's mind the scenes surrounding this boy at moments, from the start of the poem to the endings.

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M Asim Nehal 25 August 2016

I agree with your comments...........

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Xelam Kan™ 09 October 2013

Words run before eyes and tragically shaped......... super

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Alistair Graham 09 October 2013

Alas, today no change since yesterday, the barefoot boys and girls kicking pocket books up into the air to nowhere to nothing while, half enviously men look on

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Stevie Taite 09 October 2012

Don't mean dog eared, rather flipped back clasp of the pages of the notebook. A great last line to the metaphoric theme of the poem as a whole

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