Nowhere to go, and nowhere to live
He sits with his bowl, how much will they give
two pound would do, to get through the day
the shame of their whispers, all aimed his way.
A suited man goes bye, he turns away his head
too disguisted to look, he speeds on to his bed
he moves along now, on a lead his only friend
on once again, down the road with no end.
He finds a new pitch, somewhere near park lane
the people look on, as though he's insane
The hours are passing, the bowl still empty
He looks at the people, he knows they have plenty.
He thinks about leaving, anouther place to beg
then his senses arouse, to a tap on his leg
The young woman asks, why should i give?
Because he said, you can help me to live.
She looks at his face, behind all the dirt
theres a person inside, beneath that ripped shirt
It wasnt always this way,thats what he said
as to confirm, the thoughts in her head.
She opens her purse, and gives him five pound
thank you he said, but I'll still sleep on the ground
she asks about shelter, just for a while
they wont take my friend, he says with a smile.
Then from from his pocket, he gave her a letter
It told of the times, when things were better
walks in the country, floating down streams
It told of times, when he had dreams.
When he had food, and slept in a bed
when he had a life, not just in his head
she knelt on the ground, how stupid had she been
To give him five pound, why couldn't she have seen.
Five pound wasn't the answer, o what a fool
in building his dream, it was but a tool
he put out his hand, his gloves full of holes
he spoke of her kindly, a reversal in roles.
A man then approached, 50p in the bowl
if only he knew,m what was in your soul
take care of yourself, she said her farewell
she knew in her heart, he would lie where he fell.
Feeling so week, he gets to his feet
he tugs on his lead, my friend we can eat
he rolls out his bag, and closes his eyes
but he cant see a future, however he tries.
There's no life for him, thats how it seems
He falls asleep now, theres one in his dreams
for seven hours,hes the king of his land
but when the sun rises, his reign will dispand
Submitted: July 29, 2013
© Copyright 2023 daddydoyle. All rights reserved.
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Modelwriter
We often forget that homeless people are still people. A lot of people have lost their homes in this economy- and their jobs.
Mon, July 29th, 2013 11:05pmAuthor
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Yes we do, that's why I wrote this poem to sort of express the fact that beggers are still people they still have feelings and it hurts when you say mean stuff about them, thanks for your comment:)
Wed, July 31st, 2013 3:46am