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A Poem by Hippo

Homeless people in London


They lay on the pavement, wrapped tightly in paper and card;

Life sleeping rough on the streets during winter is hard.


No food, no money, no job, no falult of their own;

Living on the street isn't their choice of home.


Wearing layer on layer of I'll fitting clothes to stave off the cold;

At desperate times routing through bins for something to eat scraping off the mould.


Queuing outside a shelter for some food and a bed for the night;

All the spaces full, back on the streets with people walking blindly past, not aware of their plight.


Huddled two and three in a doorway, the smell of stale urine in the air;

Being pissed on by party goers who don't even care.


Some sit and beg with their possesions in shopping trollies stacked up high;

People with no comprehension of their problems sneer and remonstrate as they walk on by.


Some make donations and take time to chat and pass the time of day;

It's often the salt of the earth people, who strangely enough earn very little pay.


Perhaps they see something that the affluant choose to ignore;

Yes that's right, a human being, wrapped in cardboard, freezing cold on the floor.

© 2010 Hippo

Author's Note

Anything that would help me improve

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What an emotional poem. They're often the forgotten souls. You've just reminded me.

Posted 9 Years Ago

I feel for this poem. Lots of people now have no jobs and soon to be homeless because of the economy. The world is getting hard now if our money is gone.

Posted 10 Years Ago

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2 Reviews
Added on February 21, 2010
Last Updated on March 1, 2010
Tags: Homeless, streets, London, hardship



Birmingham, West Midlands, United Kingdom

I'm new. Have been inspired to write by a very good friend of mine who is brilliant in her own right! If i could be a fraction as good i would be over the moon! more..

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