The old man scratches his beard. His beard
is wisps of silver thread, woven into a smattering of grease.
The wind rebels in invisible screams across
the gloomy skies. Rain falls upon the sidewalk, pooling into a gentle river.
The old man sits in the river. He wears a
shiny yellow raincoat, which repels the beaded rain droplets. His legs are
covered in rain pants; yellow, to match the jacket. On his feet he wears shiny
boots made of gummy rubber. If only...
The old man sits in the river. He wears a
torn old t-shirt. The writing is so faded the words are lost in age. His legs
are exposed in his jeans, the denim is shredded. His feet are soaked; they are
only shielded but old rotting meshed runners. The man shivers, as water penetrates
him like cold icy needles.
People cruise the mirrored streets in cars
and crusty old trucks. None, ever look in his direction. Except to taunt and
tease.
He’s alone, sitting in the rain. He licks
away the raindrops but they have a salty taste.
I have a soft spot for the homeless. I saw one and it just broke my heart so I had to write about it. I cannot image, living on the streets and nothing to show for. Please review.
My Review
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Wow. That was deep. Short but very emotional. Your use of description and the fluency in your writing is astonishing. There were only a few minor grammatical errors, but nothing serious. I loved the ending: "He's alone, sitting in the rain. He licks away the raindrops but they have a salty taste. He's eating his own tears. I have nothing, is his final thought. He dies on the street."
The world can be a cruel, brutal place at times. People forget about the poor and needy; they are happy to get on with their own lives, not caring about the people who are unfortunate or inferior to them. There are just so many people who are homeless and sick, that nobody cares anymore. But it is a very difficult problem to fix. It shows a really good perspective on how people perceive one another and the dark isolated cruelty that streets provide for their inhabitants. Very touching and intense
This should been longer but super , it is ashame to see our own people like this Where is justice when the taxes and Lotty have all the money , you cant blame the world only the people
As you probably know I don't often read or review stories. Your title drew me to this one. It is as much a poem as it is a story. This type of story cuts directly into my heart drawing out the expression of compassion which I try to keep under the surface. I read this with tears in my eyes. Lonliness is mankinds worst affliction. To be in a city of thousands yet alone is just so awful! I get a sense that you have much more to write of this man and this may well be an outline of a chapter. You have a huge book within you just bursting to come out. Do us all a favour and give it a try.
Wow, i can really relate to your feelings, some of us take our cushy little live for granted and yet we forget about those less fortunate, it's wrong that people still live like this, so much for a civilised world.
Great work though, very thought provoking:)
Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.
- Carl Sandburg
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