Best Homelessness Poems


Premium Member Clubland

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 
lead down to a 
basement 
where graffiti
conceals a
locked door

and where bins
overflowing
with bottles
and chip trays 
spew half eaten 
food
to the floor.

a pigeon
whose body
attempts
as it struts 
to try
to catch up 
with its head

flaps and then
makes for
what looks like
the inside
of a sandwich 
set free from
its bread.

as blocked grids
and clogged gutters
sip dregs 
of drain water
left over 
from midnight's
wild rain

there are blankets
in doorways
and the red
red and amber
and green
amber 
red once again.

Premium Member The Decayed Ballerina

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 unraveling posed an inevitable ending

torn pockets spilled over
with a plethora of dead letters

hope had long ago delivered 
its final walking papers
 
without care of return receipt

handmade trees with news of unease 
spun unmercifully 
into the arms of a brisk fall breeze

birds began their escape 
into the mouth of another sun

a slow rise from a patinaed throne
on a benched park seat

a myopic vision of how cracks 
are formed on overused and forgotten streets

she walks alone 

to nowhere

a decayed ballerina

the place she is seen as most complete

Just Sitting Here

I’m just sitting here drinking coffee.
The morning air is so crisp and clear.
I know there’s so much going on out there
While I’m just sitting here.

Too many people are roaming around out there
On a day they’re destined to roam.
They’ll push their carts up to garbage bins
Too many people – who have no home.

Too many children are left unattended
Because their parents have sold out to dope.
Too many children in reckless situations
Too many children – too little hope.

Someone’s loved ones are saying their last goodbyes
In a hospital room filled with tears
As they each have to deal with losing this person
This person they all loved for years.

My heart is weeping for all of them.
I’m just a person who really does care.
And someday I’ll do something about it
But right now – I’m just sitting here.
© Joyce Dale  Create an image from this poem.


Ukrainian Prayer

If my tears were a river
Would they flow to the sun?
Would they laugh, would they chatter 
And before its course run,
Would they open to an ocean 
Holding childhood dreams?
And in the tides of that ocean
Could they bring back what’s been? 

If my sorrows were a rainbow,
Would they bright my gray skies
Across a ceiling of blue, 
Lifting hearts ever high?
And give light to the pilgrim,
Give cure to the frail, 
And to the families of homeless; 
Warm bed and a meal.

To my ears sing a song,
Sing it out far and near,
That division and greed
Shall no longer be feared.
With a chorus of freedom 
Ringing all thru the land,
Where all who can reach out
Will offer their hand.

Time tells us tales
How these tyrants are doomed.
Dear brothers, dear sisters,
It can not come too soon!
We search for the dawning 
Of that glorious morn,
When hands of the Lord
Will repair what's been torn.

When the children can laugh,
When women no longer hide.
When men can stand tall
And with face to the sky.
This war will be ended
With a treaty of love.                  
Where all will surrender       
To the Glory above.

This is actually a song I have put to this public domain tune: youtu.be/UPS28ijF-ls   Also try "Farewell Angelina" by Joan Baez for inspiration. 

Featured: PoetrySoup Home Page - Week of 1/24/22
© Ken Rone  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Homelessness, Taoistically Speaking

Social uselessness is a virtue of its own,
Those we cast aside, glance at and then away from quickly,
Lest they notice, and smell our guilt,
Are free to live immodestly,
There being no need for posturing
When one's invisible.

Trees that grow lumpen or misshapen
Are left to live long and go unfelled,
Never to be transformed into pencils and park benches.
They carry on, in love with the sun,
Spreading their arms to embrace the sky
Season upon season;
The children skip over their roots 
And lovers loll beneath their boughs,

Their shade relieves the weary,
Their age comforts the old.
No carpenter's ambition
Will ever reach their wondrous hearts,
Then, perforce, transform them.


When they kick you, unwanted 
Out of the hospital psych ward,
Your illness not important because you've done 
Nothing to make the newspapers,
You can wander like a prophet, complete in yourself
Living your truths without needing an apologist.
So it is with those we look away from,
The odd shapes among us who don't fit our spaces.

There's more to be seen by looking between things
Than can be found by looking straight at them;
The unshaped space around us speaks with an incessant tongue
Interpretable only by the spirit.

So if you really want to slip the blindfold for a change
To see the ones hovering around the fringes,
Start by studying their shadows;
If they should deign to speak,
Listen with your eyes,
If you want to feel them,
Reach deep inside yourself and rub the sore spots
You spend the day denying.

Reflection sustains reality
Like dewdrops on a leaf.
Try to understand this like a lesson and you'll fail,
But accept it without judgement;
It will come to you.
No man finds more truth than he who looks for nothing;
This is writ upon the bark of twisted trees.
Read it, then know what wisdom is.

Homeless

Homeless, 

Homeless becames your name 
Because you decided to leave your Home. 
Coca-cola is no more your favourite  drink  
Because you are addicted to  Cocaine. 

Street is straight but 
Sleeping on the street you don't  look Straight. 
Weed pushed  you to speak foolish Words,
Which provoked some Wisers.

Working in a good company , 
Failing  to organise a place to stay,  
Repute bad your Work. 
You start to hate good people who advise You. 

Life in the street is an open danger to your future bright Life,
Winter is a hard moment for homeless people
 Who wish to be on the streets
 And who don't Want. 

Coming out of the street means
 Progress to new Commers, 
Homeless on the streets  today, 
Because you want to build a new Home. 

Homeless for many years,Because you are drug addict 
And kept escaping  rehab centre. 
Homelessness  now, because of poverty,  
Or because of some major incidents , 
Or because you are  Jobless

Some homeless people became very important leaders Somewhere, 
Assist homeless people , learn their reasons to be on the streets,
 One day you or one of your  relatives, 
 Or friends will be Assisted. 

February 21/2023
Poem by Alfonso Warally Ngengethe Mussabwa Chris 

MESSAGE: Not all people want to be on the streets. It is  the beginning of the bright future life of some hustlers in big town. 
It is the comfort zone of some failures. 
It is a comfort zone for some poors
Learn to help homeless people as you don't know more about your future.


You Don'T Diet When

You Don’t Diet When…


You don’t diet when
You “shop” at a food bank
With never enough for tea.
No readies for treats,
No lattes or sweets,
Nothing extra for you or me.

You don’t diet when
You live by a gutter,
A newspaper lining for sheets.
Sleeping bag if you’re lucky,
And a patch not too gusty,
Or moved on to another street.

You don’t diet when
Your kids play truant,
Get pushed into gangs and take drugs,
Use knives, lose lives,
Live outside the law
And make you feel desperate and sad.


Copyright Emily Joshua

Premium Member Homelessness

We're down on our knees
Begging you please
For wanting a which way to go
Are you listening at all
Uouve forsaken our call
Oh why is your answer so slow

                    Chorus
Are we worthy of peace and tranquility
We need but a token from thee
We're not striving for wealth
Just the way things are dealt
Seem a little unfair don't you see

She's tired and she's weary
In truth it's just scarey
Don't know where she'll end up tomorrow
She's black and she's blue
Try'n'a think what to do
As each avenue's led her to sorrow

       Chorus

He just wants a house
He'll be quiet as a mouse
You won't even know that he's there
A real fixer-upper
He'll sing for his supper
Now tell him if you think that's fair

       Chorus


So if you've a plan
For this ordinary man
Then wont you just, please, let me know
I'll take a yes maybe
For me and my baby
As we wade through the sleet and the snow

     Chorus to fade

The Streets

Is he invisible to the naked eye,

Can’t she be seen by the passers-by,

The track marks on her body,

Follow them they tell a story,

Full of heartache and purgatory,

 

We look but nobody thinks to stop,

Judged and moved on by the cops,

No, where to turn no, no one who cares.

Attack beaten and were totally unawares,

 

Starved, cold, full of constant nightmares,

People watch, with disapproving stares,

The evil of the streets turn them numb,

How did they end up with this outcome,

 

No shelter, no water, no food or fauna,

Begging, but they seem to be poorer,

Just a sniff a smoke a needle a drink,

What if its not and there’s another link,

 

The streets are cold it chills them within,

But we all just judge there so called sin,

Tomorrow he could just drop down and die,

Without a thought a prayer or even a sigh,

 

Are you just another to walk on by,

Will you be a shoulder for them to cry,

To hear their story to hear their plea,

I no which I am but your not me.
© Sarah Cope  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Brother Billy


You are gone and I am okay.
In fact, I wanted it this way.
For you, life was a machete.
I always wished you to be free.

Leaving us for months, sometimes years,
made me often spill grieving tears
or scream aloud my sibling's plea.
I always wished you to be free.

I lived with a broken heart stain
and thought with an aching brain strain.
Was such fated for you and me?
I always wished you to be free.

Even though due to a health lack,
I was glad events brought you back.
Three years joined before death took thee.
I always wished you to be free.

Forgotten

Ding dong, hear the bells of Christmas.
Wind songs of the holiday.
How many bells are ringing 
How many bells are singing
A sad song that belongs to yesterday.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way.

How many hearts have wandered to the alleys?
How many minds have simply gone astray?
A face that once held laughter
Spends Christmas in the park
Hypnotized by Christmas bells 
That ring and sing till dark

If only they could bring back yesterday…
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way.

Eyes that used to sparkle 
Have hallowed with time.
No one was there to listen 
No one could spare a dime.

The children of the past – they don’t remember
The happiness that came with each December.
They don’t even know what made the minds go astray.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way.
© Joyce Dale  Create an image from this poem.

After Karaoke

music lingers
streetlights
shine stars
man and woman
sleeping in shadows
the library’s closed
an intimate voice
on the radio
as I drive home
midnight
the spell is cast
midnight
as I drive home
on the radio
an intimate voice
the library’s closed
sleeping in shadows
man and woman
shine stars
streetlights
music lingers

Premium Member Homeless

HOMELESS 

Every sentiment gradually or suddenly gone,
Smells in the kitchen, that graced the home,
Every precious little treasure, given great care, 
All that once was, no longer there.

Like a boulder a victim of circumstance,
tragically beholding the loss at first glance.
At the stake of a man’s pride and dignity,
A blow below the belt, and cut down at the knee,

Who knew that all that there was, was at stake,
For the right, for the wrong, to selfishly take,
The walk out the door and down the street,
Aimless existence, the bittersweet.

Sentencing now done, a living suicide,
The living dead to the world, just trying to survive,
Restore to the man a reason to be, 
More than just existing, another day to see,

In a car, on a bench, under a tree... 
Whatever the reason, however it happened; homeless.

Untitled #60 / No Homelessness

The would be no homelessness
no poverty, no delusion
if men would but make their homes underground.
Tell me, what is the moral of this story?

Premium Member Acting on Impulse

Friendships, wordy scripts, cameras, microphones and venue blips. Call security, no need to be shirty, let's go again.. scene five, take thirty. Action. Cut. Time for tea. The bar is closed but coffee's free. The waiting patiently never ends. We chat we laugh. We're making friends. The brushes flash across my brow.. my shirt is steamed no creases now. As runners jog and sound men lean. I've learned my lines, we're quite a team.. with birthday Sue and sooty Dave.. the risks we take favour the brave. It's all been worth the sweat and tears, a hundred props of seventeen  years. With actors, crew and faithful few. The final shots to rave review. A shout hooray and rapturous clap.
For Acting on Impulse.. it's a wrap x

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace