HOMELESS POETRY

These are poems about the homeless and poems for the homeless.

HOMELESS POETRY

These are poem about the homeless and poems for the homeless.

Epitaph for a Homeless Child

by Michael R. Burch

I lived as best I could, and then I died.

Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.

Homeless Us

by Michael R. Burch

The coldest night I ever knew

the wind out of the arctic blew

long frigid blasts; and I was you.

We huddled close then: yes, we two.

For I had lost your house, to rue

such bitter weather, being you.

Our empty tin cup sang the Blues,

clanged�"hollow, empty. Carols (few)

were sung to me, for being you.

For homeless us, all men eschew.

They beat us, roust us, jail us too.

It isn’t easy, being you.

Published by Street Smart, First Universalist Church of Denver, Mind Freedom Switzerland and on 20+ web pages supporting the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities 

Frail Envelope of Flesh

by Michael R. Burch

for homeless mothers and their children

Frail envelope of flesh,

lying cold on the surgeon’s table

with anguished eyes

like your mother’s eyes

and a heartbeat weak, unstable ...

Frail crucible of dust,

brief flower come to this�"

your tiny hand

in your mother’s hand

for a last bewildered kiss ...

Brief mayfly of a child,

to live two artless years!

Now your mother’s lips

seal up your lips

from the Deluge of her tears ...

For a Homeless Child, with Butterflies

by Michael R. Burch

Where does the butterfly go ...

when lightning rails ...

when thunder howls ...

when hailstones scream ...

when winter scowls ...

when nights compound dark frosts with snow ...

where does the butterfly go?

Where does the rose hide its bloom

when night descends oblique and chill,

beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill?

When the only relief’s a banked fire’s glow,

where does the butterfly go?

And where shall the spirit flee

when life is harsh, too harsh to face,

and hope is lost without a trace?

Oh, when the light of life runs low,

where does the butterfly go?

Neglect

by Michael R. Burch

What good are tears?

Will they spare the dying their anguish?

What use, our concern

to a child sick of living, waiting to perish?

What good, the warm benevolence of tears

without action?

What help, the eloquence of prayers,

or a pleasant benediction?

Before this day is over,

how many more will die

with bellies swollen, emaciate limbs,

and eyes too parched to cry?

I fear for our souls

as I hear the faint lament

of theirs departing ...

mournful, and distant.

How pitiful our “effort,”

yet how fatal its effect.

If they died, then surely we killed them,

if only with neglect.

The childless woman,

how tenderly she caresses 

homeless dolls ...

�"Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Clinging

to the plum tree:

one blossom's worth of warmth

�"Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, fallen camellias,

if I were you,

I'd leap into the torrent! 

�"Takaha Shugyo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

What would Mother Teresa do?

Do it too!

�"Michael R. Burch

Keywords/Tags: homeless poetry, homeless poems, homelessness, street life, child, children, mom, mother, mothers, America, neglect, starving, dying, perishing, famine, illness, disease, tears, anguish, concern, prayers, inaction, death, charity, love, compassion, kindness, altruism