I looked at the beggarman
Wrapped in a bundle
Of cardboard, rags and dirt,
With a royal smirk on his face
As his eyes pierced mine
For the second or less
It took to wander by
His space of rest,
His makeshift nest
Of cardboard, rags and dirt...
Today he laid
On his side,
Knees slightly bent,
A blue Bic gripped loosely
In his right fist,
Notepad white
In his right...
What does a beggarman write
From his sanctuary
Of cardboard, rags and dirt,
I wondered?
Could it be a sign,
A plea for a penny
Or a piece of bread?
Or was the beggarman
A thespian well-read
With a tale or two
Trapped in his troubled head....
As he was,
In his bastille
Of cardboard, rags and dirt...
A Danielle Steele
Undiscovered....
An Amiri Baraka
Reborn...
A literary genius trapped
In a bundle
Of cardboard, rags and dirt
With a royal smirk on his face.
~ P
(#TheBeggarman)
2/28/2014