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Below is the poem entitled Dearth which was written by poet Christine Phillips. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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He squats the entire day,
extending his empty cup.
Cold sweat oozing from the pores
of his slack bristly white face,
yet he crouched spiritless,
hoping for kindness to tumble.

Desire split his dry lips,
but he stoops without a murmur,
parting the busy shoppers,
roaming up and down the Plaza.
He makes rhythm with his cup,
a somber rhythm that plunges into the ground.

People pass by in a rush and ignore his plea.
Without warning a weight, falls upon his head, 
and he collapses to the ground.
His weary eyelids stop throbbing,
the sweat drys up ,
and mercy plunges desperately
into his cup, but poverty stares.

©2013 Christine Phillips

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  1. Date: 3/30/2013 3:02:00 PM
    So sadly true this written requiem,has humanities perhaps another name,Dear Christine.