Hobo

He’s usually there – at the intersection Disheveled and dirty With blistered lips Beaten mercilessly by the blazing sun Day after day I can’t look him in the eye But nonetheless he approaches I raise my hand to deny him a rand Unmoved it seems – rich bastard Do you know how it feels? Without a word he speaks! His presence is stark and powerful And he begs of me A multitude of questions Which only he Can answer

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Mark Peterson

Date: 4/30/2016 9:43:00 AM

This topic is one of persistent concern to me, and you've handled the subject well, conveying the most vivid images and depth of feeling. As human beings we should never assume contentment until the last us is fed and cared for. We could do it, but don't. You might like my poem 'Piteous the Legion' or 'Looking Down.' Dankie vir jou pragtige gedigte en totsiens.

Susan Palli

Date: 4/30/2016 4:28:00 AM

Powerful write! Could see the scene and feel the emotions of the two characters. Well done.