Trouble

[ellajam]

Hi, Ribo, welcome. The more I think about this one the more the rhyming couplets suit it as it remains a child's tale through to the end. The boys are hellbent on destruction as shown by their actions at the gate, yet they "accidentally" burn down the barn, sticking to their story: We were careless boys, not arsonists. This put it to me as a story told right after the fact rather than years later, justifying the choice of rhyme scheme. Some notes are below.

Edited version 1.1 - below thanks for the feedback...thinking about other comments...


The path behind our childhood home
ran fast to trouble unbeknown.
A farmers gate, a barn of hay,
lay in-wait that sunny day. I believe "in wait" is correct. August might be an interesting choice in place of sunny.

With tales and waves to Mum and Dad,
we took to where we should not had. For me, this line is too twisted for the sake of rhyme to keep as is.
Mum thinks we’re going to the park.
We promised we’d be back by dark.

The gate was rusted, old and iron,
but scale it not for want of tryin’. Barely understandable, again forced for rhyme.
Push and pull and shake and crack,
the gate lay down, now at our back.

A harvest moon one week prior,
had filled the barn to top, no higher. "No higher" seems there just for the rhyme.
We scampered hay-bale, slid and fell.
Jumping, tripping, all was well.

Laughed and rolled from bale to stack.
Time it fell right off the track. "It" seems to be there just for meter.
Sunlight dimmed and now was gone,
back home to rush. Come on! Come on! Why not "we rushed back home"?

Leaving fast, we flashed a match,
to find our way out from the patch.
A stumble over rake and scythe,
took the fire from our eyes. "Took fire from our hand and eyes"?

Oil from tractors mixed with straw.
A fuse to light, our barn - no more!
A blaze to see for miles around,
and then us running to the crowd.

-----------------------------------

Original post below:

The path behind our childhood home
ran fast to trouble unbeknown.
A farmers gate, a barn of hay,
lay in-wait that summers day.

With tales and waves to Mum and Dad,
we set our feet where we should not had.
Mum thinks we’re going to the park.
We promised we’d be back by dark.

The gate was rust, old and iron,
but scale it not for want of tryin’.
Push and pull and shake and crack,
the gate lay down, now at our back.

A harvest moon one week prior,
had filled the barn to top, no higher.
We scampered bail and slid and fell.
Jumping, tripping, all was well.

Laughed and rolled from fort to stack.
Time it fell right off the track.
Sunlight dimmed and now was gone,
back home to rush, come on, come on.

Leaving fast we flashed a match,
to find our way out from the patch.
A stumble over rake and pitch,
took our fire to the ditch.

Oil from tractors mixed with straw.
A fuse to light, our barn - no more!
A blaze to see for miles around,
and then us running from the ground.

I think some of the odd language and twisted syntax hinder the reader. The poem is very close to successful, I think you could edit this into something that reads beautifully.

Good luck with it.