When I was a child, there stood a man on the street corner, whom by all accounts appeared to be mad.
He stood on the street corner right next to the streetlight,
In front of the elementary school.
He was a street preacher you see and not many seen today.
The street was always busy full of traffic of both kinds
cars and pedestrians.
He stood on that corner from early morning to sunset, rain or shine.
He always wore a brown suit and tie, no matter the weather.
His skin was weather- beaten, dark from the sun,
He would stand there for hours and never stop talking.
He would scream as he told of things from the past, and raise his arms up as if he would attack, he yelled out warnings of things to come while pounding his fist on the book he held in his right hand.
No one ever paid him any mind..
He would stand there all day from early morning to sun set.
Ranting and raving of the word from the book that he held.
He would point at cars or a pedestrian waiting to cross the street telling them to repent
No one paid him any mind.
He was a street preacher you see and not many seen today.
I would stand there for a while and watch him as he spilled religious obscenities to any body near..
He would scream and yell even run onto the street shouting at a car waiting for the light to change he would yell at them listen to the Word.
No one paid him any mind.
Everyday I saw him as a child.
He never once looked at me he just shouted.
Everyday I saw him from Sunday to Saturday always at his post shouting and yelling
No one ever paid him any mind.
As I grew older, he was a stable sight to me,
I was always happy to hear his yelling.
No one ever paid him any mind.
One morning as I walked to school he was right there yelling and ranting.
That same day as I walked home from school.
The corner was empty... no sound, no screaming?
I looked for him he was nowhere to be found, I ran across the street and into Joe the Butchers little meat shop that faced the man who yelled while he pound on the book.
I ask Joe the Butcher, where did he go, and the Butcher replied with his hands full of meat and his white apron stained with blood, "Oh he took ill right there under the sun
His heart gave out as he yelled out warnings.
No one paid him any mind.
He died right there under the sun with the book tightly in his hand.."
I cried.
No one paid me any mind.
The following morning as I walked to school there stood a new man doing the yelling..
He walked over to me as he yelled and screamed.
And gave me a book, with a note that read
"From the screamer to the listener. Spread the word".
His Bible I still have today...
when I open the little old Bible I tell others of all the good things inside that book
I share the wealth...not often you see....for preaching is not my calling but I do try to share the beauty.
And no one pays me any mind.
Author notes
Written December 5th, 2003
What did you think
Comments
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I was forced to go preach door to door when I was a kid. It was not my calling either. I was glad to read this positive story about a street preacher though, very glad.
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Oh, I dig this piece! It reminds me of when I was a kid and used to see the street preachers downtown, always shouting The Word no matter what was going on. Sometimes I'd stop and listen for awhile. I don't remember much about what they shouted, other than warning sinners to repent, but I always remember their passion, their dedication to what they believed in. You don't see that kind of zeal and fervor in folks anymore. I'm not sure the world is a better place without them. To tell you the truth, I respected them.
Thanks for bringing back this memory! -
Wow. That's beautiful.My memory is pretty fuzzy on the matter because I was probably 5 or 6 at the time, but I think i used to see guys like that in NYC. I don't know...I always seemed to notice them. Always had this curious interest in prophets and madmen. But anyway, yeah the background makes it hard to read, but I really like the background itself.
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inspiring
it was a hard read because of the background,but t'm glad i completed in spite.it is well written and the meaning it conveys is one that no one pays any mind.the preaching has to be done because the world will have to one day pay it some mind -
good job on this one! you really had me the whole time with the story, and it was told very poetically. the background made this poem a little hard to read, but otherwise I wouldn't change a thing. thank you for this poem-
Jess -
Excellent
ooooooooh...I love it. This touched the child in me that always longs for the magic happily-ever-after to end every tale. I think we all need these to offset the common reality of ambiguity, sad endings, losses, and injustices that hound our days. I unashamedly crave this escape on occassion...and think it serves as tonic...or perhaps emetic to rid me of the poisons of the day. Thanks for this truly lovely...and evidently much needed....fantasy trip. Stunningly done "story".
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