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Echoes of Humanity (or lack thereof)

Storm 



Day after day sit I, lost and alone
upon nameless streets that are my home.
Abandoned in an endless time warp
watching people passing without a thought;
not even bothering to look me in the eye
or convey that they understand or sympathise.

Invisible pain etched on my frost bitten face,
haunted by my tragic fall from grace.
Perhaps I'm not real - merely an illusion,
created by someone's skewered vision.
Have human eyes been trained to ignore
the nameless ones from nameless shores.

Bereft of love, light and sustenance pure,
on a bed of cardboard against brick walls.
My empty heart weeps and my soul shivers
at what this life has cruelly delivered.
Very few people end up on these streets
because of their cruel and evil deeds.

Most are just lost in an uncaring world
where love is an alien forgotten word.
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Submitted on May 01, 2011

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NOTE: 5 Feb 2011 - Dear All, I have deleted and then reinstated all my poems on my page so I could get rid of the bad atmosphere, 1-ratings and nasty tags there have been of late. I know this means I won't be in the leaderboard but that's OK.I want to start anew and more importantly, see if the number of rates match the reviews. If poems continue to be 1-rated, then I will know that Ian is/was not the only one cheating here.I apologise to all those who have previously commented on my poems. I am sorry your comments are no longer there.I regret any inconvenience caused. Happy writing to all! :)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I am an enigma wrapped in a mystery ~ a flowerchild of the Universe. I am well travelled and love learning about different cultures.I have been writing poetry for 30 years, the last three of which I have written in earnest.I laugh my way through life and tears, searching for enlightenment. I don't suffer fools gladly.I am here to write, it is my passion. I am influenced by music, lyrics and the poetry of many people, too many to mention.I don't like pedestrian poetry or purple prose. I am never content with my poems, always striving to improve. I welcome critique. more…

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