Written By: D. Collins 5/7/24
Goodness in people dominates from the inside out.
Dismissing downtrodden people is not what it's about.
To avoid panhandlers' people would take a different route.
To ensure their lack of bathing didn't land on their suit.
Goodness is generational and not in every child.
Some have that "Gift" while others run wild.
It is the biggest diamond, along with a hoard of gold.
That one God-Given thing that could never be sold.
It's either in you or it ain't to be exceptionally good.
A different kind of liquid running through your blood.
A human characteristic that cannot be duplicated.
It reciprocates love rather than unwarranted hatred.
You Did It Unto Them,
Ye Did It Unto Me
Miracle Man
3/10/2023
I’m besieged by panhandlers on the street,
With extended hands and with signs they greet.
I seldom fall for stories they’re dishing,
But asking is more gainful than wishing.
Many have chosen the wrong path in life,
looked upon by some as being lowlife.
But some can’t fit society’s framework,
and need help finding continuous work.
Matthew 25:40 King James Version
40 And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.
Signs flip, lights flash, bells sound
humming pollution rides past
“BREATHE” “DON’T BREATHE” warnings.
Tattered clothes hide the lives of panhandlers
erase their memories and ours.
John G. Lawless
©9/4/2021
I see her walking in front of my shop.
Wears a Miniskirt,
Worried face,
Skin and bones.
Asking for change.
I usually, ignore panhandlers.
That day, while looking for change.
I asked:
What’s your name?
Diana Murphy
Diana Mary?
How you know my middle Name?
Mary? it is a beautiful Name.
Only a few people call me by that name.
Her eyes full of water.
We had a small profound conversation.
then, I tell her that she is not alone.
She thanks me.
As she is leaving
I heard her saying:
“I’m not alone, I’m not alone...”
After, a few weeks.
I see her pass by the shop.
Hi, Diana Mary Murphy!
She looks at me in amazement and said:
How can you remember my name?
Do you know how many people I see daily?
Nobody cares about my name!
"Those are the little things"
I love you!
I love too, I reply.
then she goes away.
The story may continue…
"Those are the little things"
Resolutions confront me at the...
End of each year, but we're such
Strange bedfellows. I hardly make them!
Once in a blue moon, I snugly
Lasso them, but I always end
Up severing the rope within months
Those I've kept I'm proud to say
I've kept seemingly for posterity; one example
Offering a helping hand to those who
Need it desperately, panhandlers especially
Savoring every moment with family and friends
Resolutions Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Matt Caliri
Date written and submitted: 01/15/2020
Homelessness
Homelessness is not an illness, People have lost their damn minds with a bunch of silliness. People who are homeless get stereotyped as Alcoholics, Mentally ill, Panhandlers, and Drug users, Whoever says this about all homeless people is a bunch of losers. The homeless take care of each other and give a little shove, We share what little things we have with each other with lots of love. Some in today's society are wanting to push the homeless away out of sight are out of their mind, People who look down on those who are less fortunate are not so kind. Let's reflect on the that Jesus Christ our Savior had no bed, He was homeless, and didn't have anywhere to lay his head.
Are you truly homeless and hungry?
The cardboard sign with crooked letters says you are...
I only have a red light's time to decide.
Some say panhandlers make a good "living"
...are you one of them
Your clothes are dirty and raggedy
but your eyes are filled with fire and piss
am I just feeding your lazy veins
or a man hanging on the edge of the abyss.
I've only a red light's beat to decide
I splash a few coins in your palm
and notice your nails are cleaner than mine
I think I've just become your red-light sucker,
oh, well-goodbye and good luck- blood sucker?
i have kissed beneath summer’s sweltering
fragrance your array of spackled decay
in lovely gardens; sweet roses weltering
plundered and plucked; an incidental lay
beneath your satin I have run my fingers,
trembled as famished breasts groped my
own; your mellow poetry still lingers
imperviously enriching - and when i try
to kiss another i feel your haunting roots
encroaching my tingled thighs and i shake
beleaguered by your lavender; heat shoots
through laboring reeds sprouted mistakes
pale panhandlers passionately proposed
then by your tender
i’m awaiting... (so you suppose)
4/8/17
There; in the waterfall,
I join many tears.
My tears pour from aching knees,
burdened with hearts of solid gold
preaching equality; from voiceless
leaders.
Panhandlers, clutching symphonies
in four lines, covet
corners that prey upon my
peace- just their day job.
Every check-out has a glass jar on
the counter; seeking tithes for
lost humanity, messages carried on wings
of doves; perched upon the waste
of capitalism.
Pushcarts; fleeing swarms of drones,
fear the key-stroke, a thousand
miles away.
While twitters and tweets stare from
vacant eyes, entombed in halls
of congress.
I smile too; red dawn is upon us,
and sunrise brings the tides
of truth
that will flood
every
shore
of
tyranny.
10/19/13
A beggar cannot dare expect fabulous gifts.
His impolite joshing keeps logical men nervous.
Old panhandlers quite regularly start to upbraid virtuous women.
X-rateds yield zilch.
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