John Lusardi Poet Free verse

Mr Ragged 2024

Mr Ragged 2024

The unsteady slow winter moon,
trudges towards a freezing night;
riding on winds back,of shadows feint,
blowing out the days diminishing light,
                             It is !
A pencil sketch in many pleasant hues
sharp strapped; as a barbers razor,
lined out,in a distant vanish point,
cloudless,pained in a subdued flavour,
                              Oh yes!
Wood pigeons pair for the chill; it comes!
Clocks are sleepy now many unwound,
all along the water spilled fountain; the
sparrows thirst sip for a familiar sound.
                               Then !
The street seems to carpet up its cobbles,
It narrows; and tunnels into fast black,
bully boy cats prowl; and growl all clawed,
local dog snoozes, it snores on its bed of sack.
                                There on -
a lonely street corner cardboard damped,
barley lit; Is home once again to Mr ragged,
chatting in an alcohol tongue; a dialect to rats,
brittle veined, slow flowed,  pave stone padded,
                                    Soon !
Morning seeps in; spilling quite secondhand,
It slept long and sexed; under voyaged stars,
not fit for purpose! It breaks over a penciled hill,
49th street corner bustles, Mr ragged lies very still.
                                  Some cry

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