Best Homelessness Poems

You all walk past me and you don't bat an eye,
Not even when you can see the pain in my cry,
You tar me with the...

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Etched in my soul
is the peace of a lonely ruin,
an old chapel on the skull
of a hill surrounded by pastureland
and wind-swept trees.
Below a lake stretches...

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*Had to bring this one back. Like my Poe poem, this one follows (haunts) me wherever I go. It is my favorite lyric that I've...

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Unsung Hero – The Soldier

Warily he stood at the corner,
Wondering which way to turn.
A weary smile on his faded brow,
As he held out an old...

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a city 
hungover 
wakes slowly 
to silence
and lights that 
keep watch
over night

the red
and red amber
the green
amber 
red
on still streets with
no traffic in sight.

railings and
stone steps...

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From the window of my chic city office, lost in thought, I gaze out.
The pedestrians scurry like frenzied ants below, caught up in their bustling...

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"Backhand"



You have turned me
inside out, cut open
like a tennis ball
I used to beat backhand
along with the racket
hard against the garage wall

To make sense of it...

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America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged...

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"Fraudulent"



A writer writes of people 
walking lonely dark streets
begging for bread, shelter and cold without all

like he’s been there
trudging up and downhill knocking on doors...

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I don't want to say goodbye

I want to say I tried

I leave you with these prayers

These ashes that I see, that haunt me in my...

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Five Tomatoes Away

Five tomatoes away
from devastation.
The bullies bully me.
They give big breaks to
corporations-While taking
unfair shares from citizens
and cutting down on
pensions and "Social Security".
I have no...

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Gaslight me, baby.

I don't want to hear the truth. Tell me you love me. Say you need me. Promise you'll never leave me. Convince me...

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When letters wait to pounce on a blank page,
when thoughts crowd the mind like frothing scum in a pond
I keep wondering what poetry is to...

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brittle stained jagged fingernails
scratch against the splint hairs
of a cold weathered wooden elbow

an impatient clock had sapped
a once supple leather coat

now requiring constant mending
as homeless...

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THE POUND


He looked at me with cautious eyes
As I walked by his cage
The white whiskers on his face
Attesting to his age

I wandered down the row...

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