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CHRISTMAS EVE 1878

Soft grey winter twilight
Creeps slow down from the hill.
Carters, backs bowed, lead horses
Another day's toil fullfilled.

Plough traces sing in frosty air,
Hooves splash and plod through mud
Down lanes spread thick with icy slush
Past thatched roofs dark as blood.

A day free on the moro,
The day of our saviours birth,
A day free from hard toil
But for farmhands little mirth.

Free for all but one boy
Young Fred just ten years gone,
For rooks don't rest at Yuletide
He'll protect seedlings from early dawn.

He'll trudge the many acres
Tin can in icy hands
Shaking, rattling, thin pitched cries
But still the rooks will land.

From dawn till dusk on Hunchback hill
Chilled through by driving sleet
He'll toil and labour end to end
Cold, hungry nought to eat

'Cept for old raw turnips
Scrapped clean of mud and worm
But nothing can assuage the pangs
For a shilling each week earned.

At last cold dusk falls with the sleet
He can run three miles home,
Kick off his muddy boots in shed
Then into firelights glow.

And Hunchback hill is forgotten,
At least till the very next day
As a little boy scoffs steaming rabbit pie
Then dreams rooks on his pallet of hay.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
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Comments

The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet's computer artificial intelligence:

The poem "CHRISTMAS EVE 1878" demonstrates a strong sense of narrative and place, effectively transporting the reader to a specific time and location. The use of sensory details, such as "Soft grey winter twilight" and "Hooves splash and plod through mud" creates vivid imagery that enhances the overall reading experience.

However, there are a few areas that could be improved. First, the rhythm of the poem could be more consistent. Some lines are noticeably longer than others, which disrupts the flow. For example, "He'll trudge the many acres / Tin can in icy hands" could be revised to maintain the same syllabic count as the surrounding lines.

Second, while the poem does a good job of creating sympathy for the character of Fred, it could benefit from more development of his character. The poem tells us about Fred's circumstances, but it doesn't give us much insight into his thoughts or feelings. Adding more of Fred's internal perspective could make the poem more emotionally engaging.

Lastly, the poem's language and diction could be more consistent. The poem mostly uses simple, straightforward language, but there are a few instances of more complex or archaic language, such as "moro" and "nought". These instances stand out and can be distracting. It would be beneficial to choose one style of language and stick with it throughout the poem.

In conclusion, while the poem has a strong narrative and vivid imagery, it could benefit from more consistent rhythm, deeper character development, and more consistent language.

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Hello, Alex,
Another wonderful and informing poem. You take us back to a place and time of dedicated hard labor, little financial gain. I went google-ing and discovered what "carters" are, but I tried without success to find Hunchback Hill. Is this a real place? Your title ushered in the theme of the poem, and the imagery and language followed the mood. I felt the cold slush and freezing sleet on Young Fred (a nice touch in giving his name), and felt his exhaustion and relief after eating his rabbit pie. A vivid trip back in time. I may dream about those rooks tonight, too.
L

Thanks for your remarks. Hunchback Hill is not, (to my knowledge), a real place. We do have many such places where I live but I liked the name Hunchback. We have a Bully's Hill, Hangman's Hill and a Bleak Down (Where my Great Great Grandfather was born) among other wonderfully named places. And, it is said, apart from Ireland the Island has the greatest population of Rooks in the UK. Have a Merry Christmas L, and not too much of the falling down water. Alex

author comment

Merry Christmas to you, too!
L

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