Homeless

Terry TrainorStarred Page By Terry Trainor, 15th Jun 2013 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

A homeless man battered by cold, hurt by his fellow men dreams of another life, another world. A world where he is respected and loved.

Battered






Ralph McTell Streets of London Click to Listen

A homeless bitter man wanders past well-lit windows looking at how others live, looking at the way he wanted to live.
Clothes tattered and torn a bit like his mind, worn like a uniform, worn like cuts bruises, a gift from last nights drunks.
He lay on an ice covered path while locals enjoyed themselves, taunts came with many punches, bile with many kicks.
Beating a man who is down on his luck is fair game, maybe they’re kicking against a fear of them being where he is, who knows?

Cold Company



So as he travels with this year, seasons have kept him cold company but it’s the only company he has, or ever will have.
Head hanging down he trudges on, raking through bins scouring gutters looking for a glitter of a coin, a screwed up note.
Standing on corners hoping someone will throw some change at his feet, or maybe just a kind word, anything would be welcome.
Again time has bought him to December to another winter, ‘a winter of discontent’ Shakespeare’s Richard 3rd. once said.
Winter’s like old Norse poetry, ragged and jagged, barbarously cruel, a little bit like his own life, a lot like his own life.

Loneliness



Behind this façade is a man who feels loneliness, who feels all, he often thinks of where he might be now if things were different.
Would his life have been if so vicious if fate had not hammered on his door, smashed his windows, ripped away all he had, all he knew.
But he was far too naive to understand the gravity of the choices he had had, he made choices they were the wrong ones.
So he stares into peoples living rooms he can see warmth, he can feel love and peace, but that is for others he has no love, no peace.

Just Another Day



Has no fascination of any pain that’s unique to realities of a bleak December as he looks into shop windows seeing shiny new things.
Christmas is just another day, just a little quieter, living in the depths of woods cold biting winds snap at his wasted body.
There is nothing so destroying as to sit on a freezing stump in woods in winter, ashamed of who he is and what he has become.
All is deathly quiet, all cold and frosty white, a slight noise startles him so he hides away, it’s a man walking a dog, he stays hidden away.
He is a ghost on a landscape a bleak landscape, he has some cover deep in the now leafless horny old oaks away from people.

Dreaming Dreams



The fires he builds are bright he stares into red embers thinking his dreams he sees a life he never had, sees friends he never had.
So in the dark staring into his fire he creates a world he wished he had, a family he wished he had and he talks to them, they love him.
His wife holds his hand and they talk of nice things, things that won’t hurt him, things he would have done if things had turned out right.
With two little children safe in their beds in warm rooms, with nice wallpaper, pink fairies for a daughter, spaceships for a son.
His wife’s perfume fills their room not too strong a smell, just right she’s got class, she’s so beautiful not just her looks, but her kindness.
Their evening gives him butterflies of happiness nothing can be this good, nothing, and he holds her tightly in his arms, very tightly.
And she whispers strength, a warm breath in his ear, he holds her with his cheek against her face nothing can hurt him now.
He feels warm and feeds his fire so the embers don’t disappear so his thoughts won’t disappear and reality is shut out for a while.
And his wife looks lovingly into his eyes and he looks in hers a warm fire cracks and spits in both worlds, his heart breaks.
A tear falls onto a bed of leaves and twinkles in flames, followed by another then another, they twinkle too, shiny bright orange.
For a time his fire flickers hope, he drifts into a beautiful dream but he wakes shivering on a leafy frosty floor, everything’s gone.
Eyes sting with tiredness his body aches he just lays in the wood until dawn trying to recapture his dream, but it’s gone like his fire, like his respect.

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Tags

Bitter, Bitter Experiences, Bitter Gourd, Bitter Taste, Cold, Dreams, Homelesness, Homeless, Homeless Man, Homelessness, Hope

Meet the author

author avatar Terry Trainor
I am a Poet.
My passion is to write about nature and the history of nature.

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Comments

author avatar Mariah
15th Jun 2013 (#)

Would his life have been if so vicious if fate had not hammered on his door, smashed his windows, ripped away all he had, all he knew.
Poetry in motion!!
Phenomenal page Terry
Thank you
Mariahx

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author avatar Terry Trainor
16th Jun 2013 (#)

Thank you Mariah, your comments have made my morning thank you so much.

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author avatar Mark Gordon Brown
16th Jun 2013 (#)

Very well composed. I like the line in which people are kicking him perhaps out of the fear of being where he is, indeed I think that is often the case.

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author avatar Terry Trainor
16th Jun 2013 (#)

Thanks Mark, I think you have hit the nail on it's head. Thanks for the star and thank you for reading.

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author avatar Chris Breva
16th Jun 2013 (#)

Good job as always Terry!

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author avatar Chris Breva
16th Jun 2013 (#)

Good job as always Terry!

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author avatar Terry Trainor
16th Jun 2013 (#)

Thanks Chris my dear friend.

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author avatar Delicia Powers
16th Jun 2013 (#)

Down the streets of my Sunday morning mind, you have taken me Terry on a most profound and soulful journey...thank you my very talented friend....

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author avatar Sivaramakrishnan A
16th Jun 2013 (#)

A very touching and heart-breaking poem about the realities of life, Terry, makes anyone with a heart in the right place ponder. We can get carried away that these happen only to others who are slobs but circumstances can conspire against anyone. A society is judged how it treats those who struggle to survive. It is never easy to ask for alms. Sadly, such people are taken advantage and then left in the dumps after being used - siva

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author avatar Terry Trainor
16th Jun 2013 (#)

Very true my dear wise friend, thanks for reading.

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author avatar LOVERME
18th Jun 2013 (#)

you have a greatness about you
sympathy and empathy flows from your
mind solul and hopefully pen ...may you seed
many more like thee
friendly terry

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