Street Insanity

Street Insanity

A Poem by Ani Ashford
"

Street people: Some begging, some con artists, some in such desperate need, yet they have been turned out to fend for themselves. Most people do not want to see the pain, the need, the desperation.

"

Ordinary, is this small woman
in pony-tail and ragged jeans.
Unconsciously, my eyes focus __
SNAP! I connect to her face.
 
 
Speaking in hushed tones, hands gesturing,
she meanders slowly in between
the figures on the city street.
People wear indifferent masks.
 
 
A quarrel begins with civil words.
The volume builds in hushed crescendo;
Two voices speak from one body,
evidence of the doppleganger.
 
 
Ordinary, is this small woman
in pony-tail and ragged jeans.
Her arms flail wildly in the air
at the invisible Janus-twin.
 
 
Loudly, her angry voices bark dark
disharmony at walls of cement.
She navigates the sidewalk
as if on autopilot.
 
 
Silent are our awkward gazes;
blinking eyes stare, some avert their glance.
We look to sky or down the street,
insisting this person is not there.
 
 
Ordinary, is this small woman
in pony-tail and ragged jeans.
Unconsciously, my eyes focus __
SNAP! I connect to her face.
 
June 28, 2001

© 2009 Ani Ashford


My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Reviews

I feel like I know her; these days with everyone shouting into a Blackberry, you have to look twice--but you captured a lost soul and society's reaction to her. In another time and another place, she might have been honored as a seeress...

Posted 16 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is a perfect description .. I used to see a lot of them in London ...and had a particular little lady called Rose who I bought bacon butties or cups of tea .. she must have weighed only 5 stone wringing wet ...

Posted 16 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I agree that they are ghosts, wraithes upon our street of life. And it is true that some are honestly down on their luck, only needing a helping hand to begin again. But it is also true that some are the con-artists as you say. Those, have chosen that life.
But there is still a third. Those that choose, but do not beg. they walk with their packs and walking stick and sometimes a dog, along the great highways. Travelers, nomad, choosing natures company over that of their fellow man.
I liked what you did with this topic and poem. I think that people need to be more aware of these folk over all, and as a country find ways to promote help, be it shelters, job training or medical attention.
Wonderful words. :)

Posted 16 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

227 Views
3 Reviews
Rating
Added on March 1, 2008
Last Updated on September 9, 2009

Author

Ani Ashford
Ani Ashford

Blaine, WA



About
In 2015 I became a widow,, trying to survive.. I sold the house in Seattle, and bought 5 acres near the Canadian border. We call it Rowan Hill Sanctuary. I am a trained artist. My art work has been m.. more..

Writing
BLUE BLUE

A Poem by Ani Ashford



Related Writing

People who liked this story also liked..