Cannonball

[Yjack123]

This poem makes perfect sense in how you say how can you stop a cannon ball. You can't. Well, you can. But this is figurative and literal. The poem has little effect, and much interest. Is that what you mean? All the energy of a cannon ball, and none of the sense in shooting it off? The theme of the poem seems to be rooted, and routed, in the line: He never knew just how to be with his potential energy. And that seems to be the whole fault, or flaw, with the poem. It has energy, and meaning, but no substance. Am I wrong? I wonder if you could explain. Just enough to let me know if I'm on the right track.

---

Rumbling nights are dark and cold when you don't believe a thing you're told. That line stands out to me as good. The most interesting line in the poem, because I can relate to it. Still I wonder if English is your first language, or your language at all.

You made me smile.  Yes, English is my first (and only) language.  

I knew "Bobby" except his name was Alfred.  An abused child who lashed out and went down in flames at a young age.  I guess if I have to explain it I didn't do a good job in the first place.

---

I can hear an English accent, of someone who speaks English some way, somehow. But it's still so broken up. Do you not have any way of framing it I'm missing? Or is this just how it is? I like to get a little bit of information, it doesn't hurt to get a little bit of frame.

Sorry, pure American.  My intent was to give snapshots and let the reader fill in the spaces.  Allowing you to put your own chosen face to Bobby; an abused child who lashed out.  I didn't want to do all the work for you.  If I missed the mark, then I did a poor job of painting.