Old Ice Cream Man

Started by Old Man, January 02, 2018, 05:41:22 PM

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Old Man

I was playing with my brother in our bare feet

  The old ice cream man was coming down the street

He was pushing a cart, and ringing his bell

  It was a sound we both new well

We ran to the house to get a dime

  then we got back just in time

He had silver hair, and ragged feet,

  and when he smiled he had no teeth

  He would sell us ice cream,

with a wooden spoon,

  And tell us stories about the man in the moon

now those days are gone

  but his memories are not.

I remember him dearly, he want be forget

  Now i am getting old, and have aching feet

like the old ice cream man

  That came down our street


Hi Old man,
You might want to read again as you may find some typos, that need your attention.


If this is your first poem, then I have to say you have talent. I love the picture that you paint and can relate to many of the images you conjure up for the reader to enjoy.

There's some technical stuff that needs addressing, but it might be too early days for a lot of that right now.

As Biola already pointed out, you need to fix a few typos and I think with some effort you could improve upon the rythm of the narrative.

Keep at it. This is a promising start.
Daan Katz, Author - Where the Magic Happens
Join my facebook group Daan's Magical Worlds


Hi Biola,

It was a sound we both new well--Knew

I remember him dearly, he want be forget won't be forgot

Yes indeed Biola--we grow into understanding and empathy. Warm memory poem.

Old Man

Thanks everyone,  been out with the flu