Best Sweeper Poems
In days gone by, people said the pipe cleaner
or the black wandering man
with shackles and dirty brushes
When he arrived at the house
in Grand Street number seventeen
A small boy opened the door
He stood wide-eyed
and measuring the big black-clad scary man
who smiled with unusually white teeth in a dirty face
Chains and brushes forged from steel he wore
"Hi, do you remember me from last year ?"
"No, the boy said
but the priest has told a lot about you
on Sundays at the church"
I’m freedom’s beckoning call light as air, an elemental being
Set adrift beyond the universal light beam, a speeding
Bullet shifting, suspended by my own spiritual uplifts
Bending in the stratosphere by raw forces
Gravitational pull.
A streaming particle of matter flowing in the
Mystical elemental current of my own existence,
Untethered I’ve cut the silvery threads of the
Timeless, a creature of thoughts abandonment.
A unique butterfly of distinction, flying amongst
The light waves of illusion spreading my wings
Of clarity, touching the stars in gentle graces
Movement.
In flights liberation climbing levels of enchantment,
A swaying anomaly tossed, passed between earth
And sky, a castaways silhouette lingering afloat the
Breeze of sensuality, with the heightened senses
Of pleasure ultimate recklessness, I’m at liberties
Jurisdiction beyond the touch of man.
I’ve joined the flocks of the enlightened ones,
Moths drawn to the dreaming flame, that burns
With fuel of inspirational grace.
Rippling wings transcending, behold the marvel
Of lunar beings, evolving, rising beyond the
Embankment of physical resistance,
Translucent fluttering monarchs brushing
Against the gates of God’s kingdom on high.
Flying insects of humanity, buzzing in a whispering
Chorus ushering in lyrical verses praise,
Announcing the arrival of these ascended.
Reaching through the vaulted grates of heaven,
The lord’s angel reaches out to touch these mortal
Wings of inspiration, and harken to listen, as
The Soft music loaf’s upwards, flooding the floors
Of this golden divide.
At twilights intrinsic hour of contemplation these
Dreaming beings of enlightenment drift as floating
Confetti ever lightly descending, cascading into
Their mortal fleshes vessels beneath, leaving the
Realm behind, but oh what visions of inspiration
Have these butterflies of remembrance relate,
In poetic excellence, cannot be captured
Within the nets of mankind.
I’m freedom’s beckoning call light as air, an elemental being
Set adrift beyond the universal light beam, a speeding
Bullet shifting, suspended by my own spiritual uplifts
Bending in the stratosphere by raw forces
Gravitational pull.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
he sets about his task~gathering the last of autumns leaves
Brother, garbage sweeper,
Don’t sweep anyone’s hopes away
They’ve tossed into the streets...
Tears, you know,
Cannot smudge
Our Avenues...
Folks on the whole
Keep their regrets
All bottled up...
No you can’t guess
How they feel
When they don’t go outside...
Those garbage pails
You’ve emptied out for years
And years and years, are mute
Witness to your feelings...
So why allow anyone
Who thinks only of his stomach
To bother you?
Brother, garbage sweeper,
please don’t misunderstand
My words...
I never intended
To humiliate you ....
What’s the difference
Between us?...
Brother, garbage sweeper,
Don’t sweep anyone’s hopes away
They’ve tossed into the streets...
Tears, you know,
Cannot smear
Our Avenues...
© Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Paris, 10. 05.1999
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Richard Vallance , 2002
In rapid succession, I jab my push-broom
Through footpath in which I walk life..."ch..ch..ch"
Clearing debris, so when i'm barefoot, I don't...
step on shards of glass.
Aye happy to be called big Billy's sidekick
Clearing up the mess ,if Billy failed to do the trick
Always calm and controlled,never showy
He quietly contributed to Celtic's glory
Short in stature,big of heart
He surely played a Lion's part
Never one for the starring role
Keeping the defence safe his guiding goal
Clearly the best supporting act
With Billy that was his pact
We are talking of the great John Clark
Who helped create the pride of Celtic Park
The Chimney Sweeper
by Anna O’Hora-Bimbot
Do you know somebody like me?
Covered in soot
Tired and weary
Nobody to care for me “deary”
I travel by foot
I pull myself up
Before the day turns to dawn
I shiver and shake
Stomach rumbling, I yawn
I keep my mouth shut
And I follow my boss
High on the roof tops
I’m scared but there are no buts
My hair they have shaved
So the flames won’t singe
I slide down the funnel
They don’t care that I cringe
My name is Tom Sild
I’ll soon be seven
I’m a chimney sweep child
My work is no heaven
Do you know somebody like me?
I see her very early in the morning daily. She is a young sweeper with blue uniform properly. The street is very clean by her art only. She sweeps the street for an hour lonely
... I admire her sincerity in the job honestly Many of them salute her noble work freely. She expects nothing from the people largely. Her honesty is appreciated by all worldly
One day she has become unconscious near a house The house belongs to a high society people actually. But the couple have helped her gladly She has become normal and do the work normally
God sends an angel to the world firmly
Who cleans the lovely heart of the people finely. I never forget the greatest service of the woman highly Thank god for sending her to the earth deeply
Oh god, what a lovely creation she is! God's creations are marvelous and fantastic. Sweepers are really boon to our modern society. No one is equal to their wonderful service.
I saw leaves falling
And I noticed months had passed
I saw a lot of leaves falling
And I knew the weather was very dry
I heard the leaves
Sobbing under my feet
And I knew they were feeling
So sad to say goodbye
To the greenery of the neighbourhood
Then I saw a lot of leaves
Blew away by a sudden strong wind
Then I remembered the sweeper
Who had worked here for so many years
Suddenly, instead of raking up the leaves
My tears started watering the leaves
Which would never turn lively fresh again
As they are just like the kind and hardworking sweeper
Who was once here
And now had gone forever