A challenge for the writers was to write a poem without using their own voice. The first poem is the voice of a homeless man. Another poem is the voice of a door, and another is the voice of a table knife. It was a different kind of challenge and I think you'll enjoy the poems.

 





I Am Homeless



I am homeless in an affluent city
Do folks realize how cold it can get
In the woodsy hillsides late at night
After the sun has gone down?


I struggle all day to keep warm
Sitting in the library reading a book
People pass by but do not realize
I have nowhere else to be.


I've applied for jobs in town
But I list no phone or address
How can I be contacted
If something becomes available?


My life's possessions are in this bag
And the backpack I haul around
The churches provide soup kitchens
But hunger is always with me.


I walk the streets looking for work
But who will hire such as I
With no place to lay my head
I'm not worth their taking a risk.


Thank you for your passing glance
I see the pity in your eyes
The coins you proffer help a bit
A cup of coffee is mighty welcome.


I pray (yes I do believe in God)
And ask for health for if I'm ill
How will I buy medicine?
How will I survive?




© By Frannie (Frannie516@comcast.net)

 




 

A Lone Leaf



Tis cold out here I do decry
All my friends have gone bye bye
I the lone leaf on old fig tree
Why have they deserted me


Wild winds they blow and still I stay
Wonder if I'll drop today
Where did all my friends go off to
I hang here alone and blue


All night and day I hang around
Someday soon I'll be on ground
Dang that bird in this old fig tree
Went and pooped upon poor me





© By Sharon (Sunyskys1943@aol.com)

 




 

Life As A Knife



Goshdarnit, here I go again,
And I hardly finished with brunch,
Just back, comfy in my drawer, when
Someone else decides they want lunch.


On a fresh napkin I am laid,
Along with a spoon and a fork,
Sunlight flashing from my clean blade,
Sharp, and ready to go to work.


I hear the toasterís pop nearby,
And I can even smell the bread.
Into the mustard jar go I,
To apply a nice even spread.


Liverwurst and a slab of cheese
To the sandwich are added now.
I slice right through, nice as you please -
Other utensils donít know how.


I do it nicely, wonít complain,
For Iím used to this around noon.
As usual, it leaves a stain,
But itís to the dishwasher soon.


The spoon canít spread very well,
Being more useful around soup,
Shaped so, almost like half a bell,
Itís also handy as a scoop.


The funny fork, tines in a row,
Is great for stabbing into meat,
But it canít do my job, I know -
Sloppy slicing is never neat.


Just an all around simple knife,
With a slightly serrated blade,
I havenít drawn blood in my life,
Despite all the slices Iíve made.





© By RickMack (rmrickmack@aol.com)

 




 

Old Red's Goodbye



So, this is how it all ends,
I, who was once so admired,
Shiny and new, the top of the line,
And then my first owner expired.


I wrapped myself around you,
And took you on the road,
Safe and smooth and dependable,
When you - you dared leave your abode.


I'll say this, though, you cared for me,
Kept me fixed and oiled and shiny,
When I knocked, you took me to good old Steve,
"He's rattling" you'd tell him quite whiny.


It wasn't my fault I got ripped apart
By thieves in the broad daylight
And now you're walking away from me
And leaving in the dark of night.


Here on this lot I may get "crunched"
But I hope I'll have a new life,
So what, go on, walk away if you must
I'll please some new young man and his wife.





© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)

 




 

Gleaming White Wood and Clear Glass



AAAAAAAAHHHHHH! Here I stand,
All gleaming white wood and clear glass.
I have improved the whole block by my presence.
I stare out at the people who pass.


I hope those fuzzy cats leave me be.
I saw the scratches on the old door.
You'd think they'd put a door in for them.
I hope they don't get any more!


OH NO! They are going to slam me!
'Cause that's how the old door shut.
Don't you do it Swampetta...
I'll knock you right on your butt!





© By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)

 

 

The Voice of the Uninsured



I am the voice of the uninsured, but few people listen to me.
I am an unpopular voice among a sea of hopeless faces; don't you see.


The ER is full of voices asking for help that falls on deaf ears.
If you have no insurance, you'll get a band aid and an escort to the door; I fear.


No money for a $150,000.00 operation needed for your spouse.
I'm sorry, but you can try this or that and get referred back again by some louse.


The endless voices cry out and wait as no help comes forth to rescue them.
Their sound is lost in a sea of bureaucratic red tape and uncaring people in high places who sit in judgment and condemn.


For a look at how the uninsured get the run around, watch the following movie.
It will give you an idea of how it is in real life for the uninsured, and this is just the tip of the iceberg.


John Q is a 2002 movie starring Denzel Washington as John Quincy Archibald, a father and husband whose son is diagnosed with an enlarged heart and then finds out he cannot receive a transplant because insurance will not cover it.
The title is a reference to the term John Q. Public, indicating that the struggles in the story could be experienced by any average American. Nick Cassavetes directed the movie.


A protest against the policies and hidden procedures of many of today's insurance companies,
John Q also stars Anne Heche, James Woods, Ray Liotta, Eddie Griffin and Robert Duvall, among others.




© By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@comcast.net)

 

 

              

 

              

 

 

The Presence and Absence of Summer



Studio Portrait ( 12 Authors )



Satin Sheets



Today We Live



Deaf Music



Red Rose, Red Rose





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