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

[B-poet]

A very creative & truthful write. It's like the moral of a story type of write. Nice work. A fine write & read. :)

[shallimarRose]

Thank you Brian.. Yes I think you are right in a way.. It has a moral or a lesson to be learned. xo

[ba_mcfarlane]

Do you mind if I link it to my Facebook page. This is heart rendering and poignant. You are the Queen Poetry Machine!!

[shallimarRose]

Send read requests here.. link it to your Facebook.. put it in the local paper .. lol I want my message to get out. yes its fine if you put it on your Facebook... thank you I'M honored Brian..

[shallimarRose]

Yes of course you can Brian. Thank you. I feel honored. xo

[EvErEyEs]

This was sincerely heart warming and full of truth.
I have so much compasion for those who are less fortunate its just a shame that not everyone takes the time so make someone elses day a bit more cheerful. No one is more than any other in this world, unfortuanatly we do not all get the best of lives but we still have hearts and feelings.
Loved this read :)

[shallimarRose]

Thank you for reading Eve.. Yes I agree.. It takes so little sometimes to make a difference in someones life but in this fast paced society we neglect to look... shallimarRose

[Frieda P]

Such a wonderfully poignant lesson in your poetry here shallimar, there are so many in this situation now and not for lack of trying, just terrible circumstances for some. A touching story about a woman I spoke to who was homeless, I asked her name, she cried her eyes out, said no one had ever asked her name before. Sinful really. Very moving piece, thanks for sharing.

[shallimarRose]

I went through a similar thing with a woman at the elderly home where I volunteer.. She seemed to have a sadness.. just sat and never spoke holding a teddy bear. There was another lady in the wheelchair beside her talking to her but she would not look up. I asked her her name and she looked up at me and said "MY name" I said yes honey your name.. Tears streamed and she said "my name is Wanda" and I hugged her.. In the mean time the other woman looked up and said Wanda? I see her for months I never knew her name she never talks.. NO one talked to Wanda or knew her name they just all thought she was with dementia.. :( sad

[Ruth]

Oh goodness, this made me tearful, those souls easily forgotten seem to have a history too and no-one sees it, or rarely does, this moved me, fantastic poem! xx

[shallimarRose]

I am glad this moved you in some way honey. Thank you for reading. xo

[Jack...]

Your words are so very true dear Rose. I often wonder how many gifted poets. musicians, sculptors, or just thinkers live among the homeless. I think we would all be amazed if we just took the time to talk to them. For 16 years the company I worked for gave each of us a ham every year for Christmas. Each year I would take the ham to an area under a highway overpass in downtown San Antonio that was home to a group of homeless people and give it to them. At first I was met with skepticism, but after that, though the faces changed, I had been come to be known as the ham man. It made me feel good. Very nice Rose.

[shallimarRose]

We collect coats, hats, blankets etc and take them to the homeless shelter in the winter. I make it a point to acknowledge them always if i see them and I will buy a sandwhich or a cup of coffee but hesitate to give money in most cases.. I just don't want to be supporting a drug habit or alcohol addiction. Its difficult to tell who is real. Here there are rings where you may see a pregnant woman or a lady with small kids asking for help.. then they give the money to the leader.. I almost want to say pimp because thats how it feels.. Thank you for reading Jack and the little story of the Christmas ham.. xoxo Rose

[Keith]

Beautifully told and thought provoking. Never judge a book by its cover. I was in Columbus Oh just after 911 and I saw a fellow in a wheelchair much as you described. However, his USA flag was just huge and trailed gloriously behind as he motored down the footpath.

[shallimarRose]

Thank you Keith. Not all but I believe most are just people down on their luck.

[Cassie]

This is a very very nice story which got me engrossed the whole time i was reading it. Thank you for sharing

[shallimarRose]

you'r welcome.. Thanks for reading.

[Anand Sehgal]

Cart-er depended on no one and asked nothing
for years we saw him walking the boulevards
leaning over his shopping cart,

A common man depicted so naturally. brilliant work.

[shallimarRose]

Thank you for reading. shallimarRose

[Cody Williams]

I really like the back story:) Very nice poem!

-CW

[shallimarRose]

Thank you again Cody.. Rose

[Cody Williams]

No problem!