Wednesday, August 26, 2009


In the evenings
And mornings
If you've seen me
Bent low
To the ground
With a scowl
Darkness settling now
Whites of my eyes
For the sun to come

Are yesterday's knots
They hold much clout
But my soul
Is cast in doubt

In the evenings
And mornings
I mutter stories
And untold glories
But they are deaf
Bereft of love
Hope vanquished
On the wings of a dove

The street's my bed
I bow my head
With great assurance
I live
Money's not God


Kilauea Poetry said...

Beautifully evoked..I felt myself being drawn in to this reality with such feeling. Nice job- thanks for this-

septembermom said...

I do feel like I'm right there in that hopeless world of the homeless. Very sympathetic and much truth revealed here. Well done.

Judith Ellis said...

Thank you for the remembrance of these. You tell an unyielding true story of many. Their sheer determination is mind-boggling. Indeed "money's not God."

Kay said...

powerful, woeful

Chase said...

"I live/Money's not God"

Beautiful. Thanks for this, I loved it.

Anonymous said...

'The street's my bed
I bow my head
With great assurance
I live
Money's not God'...

How do you weave lines with intensity like this?
Amazing piece of poetic intelligence...and yet so meaningful!!
Beautiful....Loved it:))

workerv said...

Amazing! Amazing! Clap..Clap..Clap. The greatest
expression of understanding another is to be
able to walk in his shoes. In your case to speak
for them. Be Bless! NO money is not "GOD"

Nadege said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Nadege said...

hey again, write girl. what i wanted to say
w/o typos -

write girl this poem, is the most compelling
poem I've read this year. charged with your
innate ability to see through the veil of life,
others, and the cycles {inner-horrors} we all
endure. amazing.

Saadi said...

The last line akes the spot light! Good work!!