Tonytocaa Camacho Poet Narrative

Notes About The Poem

Old Man Phil

A house 
Is a house of course
But a home is a home
Wherever you go
Wherever you come from
Be it  roof overhead or
Park row bench
With my pigeon friends
Pondering
Where I go next
Be it plains
In  euro Spain
Be it lights 
Of Manhattan
 skylights
While Shadows hunched over
Singing the blues at night
My home 
Against white graffiti walls
Faceless
Women clamor around men
Negotiating favors
And flavors amore
Where is my home
Not here
Mabye there
Hell i dont care
I don't know
I see an angel
In disguise 
Woopie
Excuse me 
Mr. sir
My good man
They call me 
Phil 
Wonder if you can 
Spare a dollar bill
Some change 
Want to buy
A bottle of Wild Irish
For old time sake 
What do you say my
Friend 
Want to rest my head 
Weary feet
And dream some 
More while I drink
My rose and 
Forget where I 
am....

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Camila Encarnacion June 17, 2023 at 7:03 PM I love this poem , it flows . Tonytocaa Camacho June 17, 2023 at 7:23 PM Why thank you Camila hope you read others you may like ,peace tonytocaa

Lindsay Laurie February 20, 2015 at 9:40 PM G'day Toneytocaa... A solid write on a depressing subject. I can't help but go with this poor soul towards the abyss. Thanks Tony - Lindsay Tonytocaa Camacho March 3, 2015 at 8:36 AM Thanks,Lindsay..touchy subject indeed something I love to write about,that's needed hugs Tony Tonytocaa Camacho March 3, 2015 at 6:50 AM

Jan Allison February 20, 2015 at 1:31 PM deep and sad write Tony - yourportrayed the desperation and loneliness of any homeless person - the park bench and pigeons or merely a shop doorway and often these poor souls are either drink or drug dependent as are the people they mix with - so tragic :-( a 7 from me XX hugs jan xx