Laura Mckenzie Poet Free verse

Malady of the Unknown

Stern faced and threads of meager means
Hands worn and thirty 
Eyes that have lost their shimmer 
The legs that he stands on, getting thinner 
Striving for bread? Or really a sweet bottle of wine 
All in good time 
All in good time 
As he begs for a dime 
Crowded streets, crowed faces
Most carefree in their hidden spaces 
Blackened nails 
The scent of sweat and booze
They cannot bear to stare into his face 
No, for they fear they may wake one day in the same state- 
of retched disrepair  
Or is that they just don’t care?
I wonder does he feel any hope?
As he goes about jostling his carriage of left over junk 
Rain falls on the crowded city streets 
As they look down all you hear is his shuffling lonely feet

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Vince Suzadail Jr. September 14, 2008 at 4:12 PM He may have been a father, a brother and definitely someone's child. We are less human when we turn our heads. "Whatever you do for the least of My brethren........". This world needs people who care. God Bless. (I'm still allowed to say that until the liberals have it banned). Oh!! I'd say it anyway. God Bless. Vince P.S. Tell your daughter thank you MUCH!! Vince

Heidie Buys September 12, 2008 at 8:10 AM A very compassionate poem and so very well written. Love the last two lines, it lends a poignancy to the poem. Very well done. Regards Heidie

Kristin Reynolds September 11, 2008 at 3:29 AM So sad. They, like everyone, are all different. I do know by experience that some actually like living that way, or have grown to like it, some have gone so far inside themselves the outside world does not exists anymore, and some have lost all hope - I feel for those who feel there is no hope - so sad, love Kristin P.S-thanks for all your kind kind words! :)

Brian Strand September 10, 2008 at 11:48 PM Like the contrast in the penultmate line Laura.Rgds Brian & thanks for your welcome comments

Carrie Richards September 10, 2008 at 3:51 PM So sad to think that there are so many out there, just like the one you describe in this poem. While we sleep in warm beds, where are they? A question we need to ask more often, and do more to change what happens. Nice work for bringing in to our attention once more.! ~Carrie

Deneen White September 10, 2008 at 3:48 PM someitmes this is what a homeless person wants, sometimes it is not by his own design, some just give up hope of a better tomorrow or does not know how to start over again, nice write, take care D-nyce