A DIFFERENT TRACK

[Maureen K Clifford]

A DIFFERENT TRACK


He lives in empty boxes in the shadows of tall buildings
under the bridge where disconnected horns play loud endless tunes.
His peripheral vision heightened by the need for constant vigilance
from predators and stalkers and others with life in ruins.

He sometimes ventures to the park to sit and watch the people
in their finely coloured clothing, on their night out in the town
or he strums familiar melodies, busking for coins thrown carelessly
night after night – low level help – for one who’s out and down.

On colder nights he goes and sits out at the sidewalk café
where body odour is less noticed as it mingles with diesel fumes
The chuckling percolator drips its black and fragrant liquid
into a thick white china mug. He waits and then consumes.

And for a moment, at first glance he’s just like everybody else
enjoying coffee and cake –with their faces painted green
from the flashing neon sign that dispenses a splash of colour
to the dingy grimy sidewalks of a soulless city scene.

But he’s not – his clothes are grimy – and his boots are very worn.
Take a minute and chat with him, in his eyes you’ll see despair;
and his jacket if you look close you will notice it is torn.
He’s a bloke you may pass everyday and yet not know he’s there.

Coffee finished, slow he rises, ventures out onto the street
heading back towards the walls of his palatial cardboard home.
The range of his shadow stretches tall – passes ghost like ‘cross a billboard
advertising a pore-tightening cream and facial cleansing foam.

And is he friend of my enemy or enemy of my friend?
Or is he a social outcast - one whose fallen through the cracks
of a society that’s blinded by its own greed and indifference?
He is all of these, but still a man. He just walks different tracks.

Maureen Clifford © 01/12

[Neville Briggs]

Very well done Maureen. I thought it was a strong image because you put in a lot of showing detail. Have you ever read George Orwell's Down and Out in London and Paris

This is a drawing I did one freezing windy day when I was stuck in the waiting room at the Newcastle Railway/Bus Station for an hour with a poor homeless bloke for company.

homeless.jpg

[warooa]

Well said, Maureen, I enjoyed that - although pity the final stanza has that plural/singular rhyme.

Hey Neville . . . I'd be interested to have a proper look at that sketch of yours - it's too small to see.

Cheers, Marty

[Glenny Palmer]

Meee toooo!! Come on Neville, show us a bigger pic. It looks just wonderful. What are you doing with your art? Art coupled with poetry makes a great showing at the local gallery.....says me who hasn't picked up a paintbrush or charcoal for....since last century. (I'll chuck a few on 'Piccies' just for fun.)

Goodonya Neville! Pleeese show us more.

Cheeers
Glenny

[Glenny Palmer]

Hey Maureen....there are some powerful images in your poem. Thank you for sharing.
(I have some thoughts on the plight of such blokes, but best I keep them mum for now I think.)

Goodonyaluv.
Glenny

[Heather]

That might be a good reason for you NOT to have your address tattooed on your forehead Glenny!

[Maureen K Clifford]

Thank you people- Marty I fixed that without losing anything.

Neville I would love to see a decent sized picture of your sketch also, if you are able to do so. Not to much show I hope Neville felt it needed show. as to often these folks are seen by the unseeing already.

Cheers

Maureen

[Neville Briggs]

There'yar Marty, Maureen, a slightly bigger version of the picture.

[Maureen K Clifford]

That's very good Neville - you are a talented man who has been hiding his light under a bushel.

I am hoping to take some drawing lessons this year all going to plan - want to dabble in watercolours.

[warooa]

Thanks Nev . . . always been extremely appreciative (and sometimes envious) of those who can draw.

Thanks mate,

Marty