Beggars

I write em like i see em

Begging in the scorching heat,

Their hands extended,

Their faces beseeching,

Asking for something to eat.

 

A young boy sleeping on the ground,

Awakens and dons his sodden rags,

Ignoring the rumblings in his stomach,

Towards the road, his feet he drags.

 

His rags are covered in filth,

His eyes swimming with tears,

He walks towards the road,

Ignoring the children’s taunting leers.

 

He approaches a car on his protesting feet,

As if in a trance,

The light turns green, the car drives off,

Without a backward glance.

 

He stands where he is,

Not caring abut his health,

Wondering about,

The secrets of wealth.

 

Calling it a day,

On the pavement he lies,

Hoping that,

He dies, dies, dies.     

Author's Note

Revise the second last stanza someone.

Reviews

[Nobody.]

This is good. It speaks important truths about the human condition.
Cheers!

[Red Brick Keshner]

Will give the second last stanza a go. For now I will respond to the poem as a Reader. It brings to mind the poet's/artist's heart which to me can be at times 'beggarly' in the light of how reality and beauty are often quite removed from each other. Without our Muse and the ability to express our inner soul we exist only in the beggar's raiment. Now off I go to make something of the second last stanza. Cheers.

[Color of the Iris]

I don't know if I'd revise it, because it's just fine the way it is. :)

This was a great piece, and I enjoyed it a lot... so if this poem were to continue, the little boy laying on the pavement would find his demise with the man driving the car?

100/100

[Jim Parson]

A thought-provoking write painting a strong visual. I gave it a shot on that stanza but I got nothin'.