The Pedophile

I thought we might try writing in ottava rima — an Italian form that, in English, usually takes the form of an eight-line stanza of iambic pentameter, with a rhyme scheme of a-b-a-b-a-b-c-c. The most famous poem in English that uses the ottava rima form is probably Byron’s Don Juan.

The Pedophile

The man gazed at the soft flesh in the night
Under the neon lights of the city
The sickness caught his eyes, tainting his sight
His little soldier became fidgety
Brown hair, grey eyes, long legs and skin so white
Soft flesh right on the cusp of puberty.
He was excited, so delighted, and
Thanked Lady Luck, for it was unplanned.

How did the littles stimulate him so
Uncontrollably urged to commit sin
Their innocence, perhaps, kneeling to blow
Like mini Pied Pipers of Hamelin
Or was it the look their faces could show
Or the tingle of the hairs on their skin
Their ignorance hid them in bliss, it seemed
And when the wool was pulled away, they screamed.

The ostracism of his kind, he couldn’t
Understand, when God had made them this way.
Close to the little, he knew he shouldn’t
Act impulsively and pounce on his prey.
Almost there (candy smell!) but he wouldn’t
Be able to, alas, it was too late!
The little attracted his protector
So the pedophile turned and found a whore.

Attribute: Times Square at night by maveric2003CC-BY-2.0

(NaPoWriMo 2013 #9)

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