They Called him Carter...

Inspired...

They Called him Carter...

Cart-er was named for the shopping cart he would push

filled to the brim with treasures and trinkets he'd collected

trash to many , to Cart-er they were golden tickets perhaps

Cart-er was not a drunk..... just homeless by choice

he had a family, yes... a daughter and one sister

that was the talk around town

Cart-er depended on no one and asked nothing

for years we saw him walking the boulevards

leaning over his shopping cart, favoring his left leg

Cart-ers cart had an American flag on the back

worn and tattered, attached with duct tape

I often wondered if he was a veteran but never asked

everyone just waved to him as they passed

Cart-er could often be seen sitting in wind-blocked moments

quietly talking to himself, sad eyes scanning everything slowly

side to side as if he was taking mental photographs

making memories and friends with the brownstones

the cracks in the sidewalks and street lamps

noting quietly to himself each sound

as the city quietly turned out the lights and slept

Cart-er was a perminant fixture around these parts

everyone pretty much knew his name

well the name his lifestyle had branded him with

little else was known about dear sweet quiet Cart-er

Cart-ers number came up on a Saturday

they found him wrapped in a blanket near his cart

on a cold Sunday morning in November..

a heart attack they said and I cried when I read the news

tears for Cart-er, tears for myself, tears of a poet

found amongst cart-ers treasures

at the bottom of his cart beneath the old blankets

under the aged newspapers and recyclables

three bound notebooks in plastic bags

pristine condition

each neatly inscribed with a place and timeline

each filled with expressive substance in lyric form

metaphoric  language in calligraphic style

worded fluidity with no limitations

each word each line each page flourishing

the nobility of Shakespeare

with the contemporary style of Frost

Cart-er was not a drunk, or a bum

he was homeless by choice

spending his time really HEARING life

listening to each season as it passed one into the next

befriending the brownstones, each brick, each cinderblock

he knew the exact time the crickets begin their chirp

when the swallows begin their migration

Cart-er knew the names and ages of all the neighborhood children

which street lamps had been replaced in the past five years

he even knew the different shades and hues

of sunsets at different times of the year

Cart-er was not a drunk or a bum

homeless by choice

Cart-er was merely a forgotten poet

 

and they called him Carter

 

bj smith

aka shallimarRose

 

 

 

 

 

 

For more shallimarRose Poetry titles visit my table of contents in my blog...

 

Bits of Me...Table of Contents by title...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

We were going out for quick MacDonald's Breakfast meal when we saw a man on an old beat up electric wheelchair out in the rain holding a sign that said "Will Work for food." On the back of his chair was an american flag battered and wet I don't know if he was a veteran but about the age to be a VietNam Vet would be. Being a compassionate person I went and bought him a cup of hot coffee and tried to give him a $20.00 bill. He took the coffee and as he was warming his hands thanked us for the gesture and politely declined the cash.. He was not a bum. he didn't want a hand out. He just wanted to work.. He wanted to feel useful, to be needed maybe. To be noticed.

The carter in my story may be fictional but there are so many Carters in the world around us.. I think we tend to look the other way in many cases because of fear maybe. The holidays will be here before we know it. The Next time you see someone on the corner or in the parking lot look them in the eye.. Show them they matter.. Why not buy a sandwich or a cup of hot coffee ... Just my thoughts..

If you enjoyed this story please share it. Thank you, shallimarRose

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I hold people for many years. Never look down at another. We don't know why they have given up. I enjoyed your story. In Monterey. Many beggars were working the city. I remember one day the coffee house girl had two flat tires and no money. I gave her what I could. One of the beggars came up to her. He was a regular customer. He handed her 200 dollars. He told us. He made 500 dollars a day and appreciate the kindness and smile of the coffee house girl. He walked way. There are good people with us. We need to open our eyes. Thank you for sharing the excellent poem.
Coyote

[shallimarRose]

I am gla I logged in today Coyote.. I have been very ill and not logging on at all since December..
Yes there are alot of homeless here also .. Well I guess everywhere.. hugs, Rose

[Randy Johnson]

Even though Carter is fictional, you've made him sound like an awesome guy. Great poem.

[shallimarRose]

Thank you Randy for coming to read. Your poem got me to feature this again. Rose

[Michael G. Smith]

Great testimony to this man. I try and take time to say hi to these invisible people buy them lunch and dinner sometimes. Most ask for some spare change, but I love to see their eyes light up when I had them twenty dollars. Thanks for this poem it is wonderful way to end the night.

[shallimarRose]

You're most welcome Michael.. Thank you for reading. xo Rose

[icelandicblue]

This was such a touching story. We often see people as one dimensional and yet there are treasures hidden beneath the most surprising surfaces. Of course our shared humanity is the most precious treasure of all.

[shallimarRose]

Thank you Anne for reading and your nice comment.. xo Rose

[Itiswah Ditiz]

You're welcome Shallimar :) I am not Blue though lol We both have similar display pics and I think you just noticed that rather than my name. :)

[shallimarRose]

Please accept my apologies.. I am sitting in the dark at 1:30 am and could not read the light names under the blue butterflies.. Rose

[Itiswah Ditiz]

Anyone could be a Cart-er. I really liked your story/poem Shallimar. Thanks for sharing this. I find a lot of "Cart-ers" have much insight and wisdom. We all have things we go through in life and to be judged for them is not right. Some chose to be for various reasons and some have no choice at that point in time. It's shame though. I read a statistic that showed in all of America, for all the houses abandoned across the nation, those houses could house each homeless person in the States, twice.
I like and agree with your comment (the girl who mentioned McDonald's in her comment. :)
Thanks for sharing your writing with us all. I think the whole world needs to see and understand things like this.

[shallimarRose]

Thank you again for reading Blue.. Im glad you enjoyed and relate.. yeah I toyed with whether or not to list this as a story or a poem.. But hes a poet so I thought Poets should read.. :) Rose

[shallimarRose]

OOOps sorry.. your not Blue..

[Itiswah Ditiz]

lol it's all good :P

[Pryde Foltz]

Thank you for sharing. Everyone has a story don't they. Great write.

[shallimarRose]

Yes everyone does.. thank you for reading.. Rose

[Lydia Shutter]

"spending his time really HEARING life
listening to each season as it passed one into the next
befriending the brownstones, each brick, each cinderblock
he knew the exact time the crickets begin their chirp
when the swallows begin their migration"

Ofttimes the poets who are never discovered are just like Cart-er. I actually knew one and I would loan him money at the end of every month till he got his check from the VA on the 3rd of the month. He always paid me back. When we found out he was hit by a car and died, we were all very upset. They are the wordsmiths of our time....and they never get a chance to have their words read. Your story shows so much compassion. Heartfelt and lovely. Lydi**

[shallimarRose]

Thank you so much Lydia.. I was not sure you would want to hunt this down. I am glad you did. Sorry your carter met with such an untimely death.. xo shallimar

[Einstein Noodle]

In my youth I spent some time zig zagging my way across the country on my thumb and train hopping skills. I was fortunate to have met a couple of Carters during that time. Its an eye opener to know that not everyone on the streets are there as derelict or by circumstance; but by choice. I dont think there are many; but they are certainly there. Your poetry/prose honestly touched my tear place a bit. You made Carter very real to me. Nice write says i :)
E.

[shallimarRose]

Thank you so much for reading EN... We take too much for granted in this life I think... Especially in this day and time so many are homeless and hungry.. Perhaps we assume someone else will buy that cup of coffee ... but what if no-one ever does? shallimarRose

[Ravyne Hawke]

This is beautiful, Rose.. I love the repetition in this.. it helps to break up and emphasize parts of the poem. I know many Cart-ers here in Tulsa OK.. many are vets, many have lost their jobs and everything else too.. My husband and I help as many as we can. Never know when that could be either of us on the street like that. Thanks for this wonderful, inspiring poem!

[shallimarRose]

Thank you for reading Lori.. I think Carter is everywhere.. xo