As I drive away from the park
where I've been sitting
looking at trees, and writing,
I see him squatting
atop a wooden table
in the gazebo near the pond.
He wears a hooded jacket;
a small back-pack clings
to his hunched shoulders.
It's only 4:15. Already
the cold hunkers down
and the slow mist comes in.
I wouldn't like to be homeless
tonight, I think, shivering
as I drive away.
[Poem #94]
[Poem #94]
Shared, years later, in Writers' Pantry #37 at Poets and Storytellers United.
Comment from original posting:
ReplyDeleteJannie Funster 15 November 2012 at 02:16
Rosemary who lives in New South Wales, I am very much enjoying your poems today as I cruise your blog for a graphic befitting your sidebar button for my site.
This one is especially touching.
I wouldn't like to be homeless either.
xoxo
Thanks for the re-share. I posted a re- re-post myself, this week. Solid work, clearly captured and relayed.
ReplyDeleteMost large cities and towns have their share, certainly Adelaide does. Most are benign and don't push their luck by overtly begging which can be annoying if you see them almost every day.
ReplyDeleteStrange to think this poem is from over eight years ago. I wonder what became of the homeless man, where he is now. I would like to see more of these verse sketches, Rosemary. I like the brevity of description of both human and setting, especially the small back-pack that ‘clings to his hunched shoulders’, he doesn’t have much but it seems to weigh him down, and the way the ‘cold hunkers down’ as if in sympathy.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Kim, for the encouragement. OK, I'll share some more.
DeleteWould I even recognise that man if I came across him now? But we still have a number of local homeless people. I donate food to an organisation that helps – but it's alleviation rather than cure.
Really vividly sketched word art, Rosemary. I hope wherever he is, he's getting by OK. And yes, it would be nice if countries could focus on curing the problem. I know my country is a looooooong way from that, sadly enough.
ReplyDeleteThe homeless is a reality, even in this age of covid19 with sparcily peopled streets, there are still there, lurking in the shadows.
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday Rosemary
Much💛love
Where is he now, I wonder. A bittersweet slice of poet's life.
ReplyDeletethis is a very vivid and honest sketch of a person.
ReplyDeletei like the project but i don't think i will be able to do it daily. :)
This is so touching. Your poem so beautifully captures the moment. In my city there is a community of homeless under a highway overpass that is mere blocks from the city's glitzy epicenter. The incongruity of it all never ceases to amaze me.
ReplyDeleteI wish I could say I haven't experienced this (what seems like a gazillion times). There is so much homelessness in New York City.
ReplyDeleteLike Colleen, I also wonder where he might be today...
Wonderful to read this ... I also would to know where he is. Going to check out your 2008 posts, should be fascinating. Cheers.
ReplyDeleteThe pain of the homeless. The city where I live is filled with them. Such a touching portrait of a young man trying to live in impossible.
ReplyDeleteWhat an interesting project. It would be fascinating to watch it grow ... on so many levels. It really captures the imagination. I can see it being incorporated into a variety of mediums.
ReplyDeleteThese are the invisible people where we sometimes look through them. A wrong choice or random act that went a different way and I would be in the same situation.
ReplyDeleteIf each of us lend a hand, they may find their way out.
Your poem is beautifully done. Vivid imagery, too. The part about it being only 4:15 yet so cold and misty sticks with me.
ReplyDeleteI know both people in this poem: the homeless person, and the speaker, for I have been both. It's strange to see two sides of one's self.
ReplyDelete