Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
mary-winslowPoems
Ragged clothes on the sidewalk, toddlers murmur and cry cold morning air where abandoned row houses smell of whiskey, sage, and molded cotton diesel exhaust belches into light breezes forests of burning coffee beans mingle into their hearth, the children, this is their nostalgia everywhere leavings of life scatter driven by wind cover unhoused, distressed, makeshift families they stand shoeless as fortunate people drive past Glut of humanity smells of wet newspaper grey gulls picking at grimy cellophane cardboard litters muddy sidewalks above the billboard the wealthy jeer at them sitting by a liquor store with bars on the windows shut out of row houses with black wrought iron gates basement stairwells filled with trash men in alligator boots ready to lunge into the lives of slick, bright, vacant women this is the fate of feminine mother love Thriving in dead landscapes growing lost opportunity under skyscrapers where it is always almost dusk
0
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
Squatters’ Children
Ragged clothes on the sidewalk, toddlers murmur and cry cold morning air where abandoned row houses smell of whiskey, sage, and molded cotton diesel exhaust belches into light breezes forests of burning coffee beans mingle into their hearth, the children, this is their nostalgia everywhere leavings of life scatter driven by wind cover unhoused, distressed, makeshift families they stand shoeless as fortunate people drive past Glut of humanity smells of wet newspaper grey gulls picking at grimy cellophane cardboard litters muddy sidewalks above the billboard the wealthy jeer at them sitting by a liquor store with bars on the windows shut out of row houses with black wrought iron gates basement stairwells filled with trash men in alligator boots ready to lunge into the lives of slick, bright, vacant women this is the fate of feminine mother love Thriving in dead landscapes growing lost opportunity under skyscrapers where it is always almost dusk
©marywinslow2017
mary-winslow
Written by
mary-winslow
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem