Under the BridgeA Poem by Lorrimana poem about poverty and homelessness
Black Space
(eyes without a face) Poverty lingers like an ill gotten taste giving up her secrets to no man; teaching lessons in life at every turn. Poverty taught me to be frugal how to beg, borrow or steal live on £1 a day to eat once a day the truthful instinctual perusal the unreal zeal blocking the thoughts of hunger the puerile senses; the basics on how to feel. In the near dark I found you sheltering from the storm under the bridge just like I was wrapped in mottled harsh cloth sitting on cardboard for warmth. You spoke many languages had a degree in anthropology and a penchant for gambling and alcohol;
we shared a bowl of disregarded noodles in the rain. © 2014 LorrimanAuthor's Note
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Added on September 22, 2014 Last Updated on September 22, 2014 Tags: #poverty #homelessness AuthorLorrimanGlasgow, Scotland, United KingdomAboutjust some bearded fella with words to share (all works on here are written by me and as such all copyright is in the legal realm of my name) more..Writing
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