The Tramp

Wrote this in school ,I think in 1985. Nothing has changed!!

Still, he sits, on the park bench,

Head down, arms folded, legs crossed.

Taking no notice of the passers-by,

He sleeps on 'till the days die.

He wears a dirty brown hat on his grey head,

To keep off the cold as he grows old.

His long black coat, worn with wear,

Shows some signs of great dispair.

His thin dark shoes, two of a kind,

Once very many and very grand,

But now these two, ripped right accross,

Also show signs of some unfortunate loss.

Suddenly he's wakened with a prod on the arm,

From the park-keeper ,who says 'move on'.

As the sun sets, he staggers away,

Wondering if he'll be back the following day.

Reviews

[matrixmark]

This was brilliant. I am sure we have all seen this stereotypical kind of tramp at least once in our lifetimes. You described him so well and the settins which you placed him were perfect. When reading this piece, I did find myself asking - how does the social status get to where it is in this poem. Whathappened that was so bad i renders them homeless on a bench with brown bag.

A good piece. Read between the lines and you get a more deeper questions which I guess will never be answered - sad but hey...thats life.

Keep writing.

Mark.