I walk upon
cold cobblestones
not finding shelter
from the storms
that rage within
the black and smoky
kettles of the shanty poor
and all their splintered
creaking wood framed houses
that would pass for home
except for lack of
even simple pleasantries
to call their own
How can I face
the vile and putrid truth
that I am wading through
if nothing that I see or smell
or taste or hear
or say or breathe
can match
the anguished mutterings
of hopelessly
impoverished men
or cries of children
torn too soon
from bloody womb
to face the wretched fate
that even those
who brave the cobblestones
would never think
of really facing
Down around the Shanty Town
the Southern side of Shanty Town
the side that evil came to know
as its sweet lover long ago
yes longer
than the longest long ago
Before the white man
or the black man
or the colors of
the many men
that came before the start
of hating color
in the flesh of men
Or of their poor and broken
Shanty Towns
where crying in the night
is all the welcome home
left to the bones
of all the colored men
who felt the hate
and bit deep into flesh
while choking
on their last request
Please let me go back
to my Shanty Town
where I can breathe
in poor man's air
and for a season
just be left alone
be left alone to walk
upon the cobblestones
the cobblestones
I call my home
in Shanty Town
Author notes
Poverty/Racism
Written May 2nd, 2005
What did you think
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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I don't think this is quite as strong as the two I have come across so far today, but it is still good. Very vivid, very forthright.
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I couldn't help but think of New Orleans and the many towns that were ravaged by the hurricanes these past few months and those who would eagerly return to the only place they know as home. It may have been that many articles and poems of late have described the terrible smell from the debri, death and waste that hangs in the boweries and streets of the poor communities that were hit the worst. It had a powerful contemporary message of bigotry and insensitivity, that exists so blatantly. Powerful write.
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(Cough cough) Nice but need to breath ;)
Wow what a reference to racial discrimination and poverty
I found some points in your poem to be strong, notheless a good poem. Points I found strong were, for example, "hating colour in the flesh of men" as well as "the side that evil came to know as its sweet lover long ago". More strong images appeal to our sense of smell, indeed Shanty Town gave me the illusion of being very polluted place, and terribly difficult to breath. Perhaps this, the subtle hints that appealed to my senses, was even stronger than the individual images.
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iT IS MY FIRST TIME READ YOUR WORKS AND THIs simply blew me away!
very well done, and I enjoyed reading this
Dr♠goness -
We all sometimes seek the comfort of "home" to avoid the filth
of the world that clouds our eyes disqused as false truth but really nothing more than bonds that if listened to will pull us under with the rest of the crowd. Sometimes we need to step back and take a minute to re-evaluate what really lies before us and where it is leading us to in the end.
-Eddy -
good job
Yes. You're an amazing poet, as I've said many times before, mon vieux. I hope things are going better for you now.
This is a great poem. -
This poem reads so beautifully raw. I loved it.
The imagery, the pain, nostalgia, and deep sadness, well done.
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Beautiful. Your refrain was hypnotically eloquent. Really, that was astonishing.
- Cor -
This is so great. It took me into another world with your clear
imagery. I love cobblestones. I could feel the pain in this work. It really was like I was there. Shancy. -
This is a great poem. Awesome Job.
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You are a star in Allpoetry.com's nebula cloud, and a very bright one.
Great to see you here and to see all these great poems again.
Jim Dunlap
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