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Hank Helman
Poems
Nov 2020
Stone
How crooked my hands,
Gnarled knuckles and bone,
Fingers bent forward,
Palms carved out of stone.
Yes I'm a beggar,
How well my part played,
My hand out in hope
Of a penny mislaid.
How many times,
Can you avert and walk by,
Yes,I'm homeless and helpless
And I also ask why.
How long will I ignore the poor? And why?
Written by
Hank Helman
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