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POEM: DOWN AND OUT

Down and Out

Image result for weary and homeless

Who cares enough to notice the penniless?
Who cares how they became all so ripen?
Griping you hard to their desperate chest,
Having no choice, such icy grips they have,
Limping and crawling from spot to spot
.

Flames my chest to see such doleful pleas,
Smokes my heart to hear them cry out loud,
‘‘Oh how will I succeed, Oh how do I live?”
“I crave you with every breath I got in me”
Sees us as barons and empresses over them all.

Old and weary, young and weak are some,
On the roadside beneath bridges for warmth,
Looking for love at all angles they can find,
Without buddies, without family without us,
No one knows no one cares no one sees.

Lay undernourished by the gutters of streets,
Lay on the side walk miseraly resting bones,
Clutching hooves passing by near and far all day,
Gets hit rushing to cross to beg yet more woes,
Feed on scrap and wear tatters of the ruined.

They have nothing that matters to the rich,
Pleased with whatever they receive with hope,
They sit from break to night and night to break,
For any dregs coming their way as it comes.
If they all disappeared will you care where to?

No one wants a pauper for a pal these days,
With faces as pale like out of oxygen for days,
Targets of hunger, cold and feeble with epidemic,
One smile can transform a paupers life for a lifetime,
Let them in as they knock, give the little of yours.


By Bassem Ayamore

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POEM: DOWN AND OUT

Down and Out Who cares to notice the penniless? Who cares how they became ripen? Griping you to their desperate chest, So jamed and bashed crossing to beg, Limps and crawls from spot to spot. . My chest flames to such doleful pleas, Clutching hooves strolling thier way, Smokes my heart to hear them cry out, ‘‘Oh how will I succeed, Oh how do I live?” “I crave you with every breath I got in me” Old and weary, young and lanky, Resting beneath bridges for warmth,  Feasting on scrap wearing tatters, Without buddies, no family, nor us, No one seem to see or care little. Having nothing that matters to the rich, Pleased with what they receive with hope,  From break to night, twenty four seven, Lay noisy tummys by slumpy gutters, If they disappeared who cares where to? Miserable basking on side walks, Faces pale like out of oxygen for days, Targets of hunger, cold and epidemic, A smile can warm a paupers lifetime, Let them in, they knock, share your little. By Bassem Aya...
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