ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

STREET PEOPLE


He spent the night with strangers
who survived on lies and jests.
Ragged folk inured to danger
in their world of hopelessness.

He learnt to read between the lines,
and disregard the rest
of those who silent fell through cracks
and were not socially blessed.

Those misfits of society
whose only shade was black.
Those wraiths of darkness yet unseen
who never could go back.

Hopelessness, drugs, and cheap booze.
Sad long days with these they’d fill.
Their worn pockets full of mumbles
which others did not thrill.

And yet were one to look inside
to see the inner man
you’d find one not so different.
There but for grace I am.

In the company of strangers
with none who call me friend.
The homeless misfits of this world.
where will their story end?



Maureen Clifford © 12/10

Ah Maureen - society are often all too quick to judge these people, aren't we?
Your poem reminds us to look beneath the outside appearance.

I could never understand the goths that hang out on the city streets - until I had a girl live with me for a couple of months who hung with them, and I heard some of their stories. I wrote a poem for them titled 'The Lonely Child' - probably posted it on the old forum, but will re-post it.

Catchya
IRene

Thanks Irene, we all need to remember that we are very blessed compared to those whose home is the streets

Cheers

Maureen