Homeless poetry

The Shelter of Love

Poetry
What about street dogs,/ the soft undersides of paws/ laid at night/ upon face or arm/ warding off cold & harm./ Dogs with hungry sorrowful/ eyes will gaze into our own./ If we have zero food/ to offer, not even a bone,/ a dog still claims us,/ downtrodden as we are,/ as his home.

The Flower Girl

Poetry
Dostoyevsky’s Prince Myshkin believed/ “Beauty will save the world.”/ By taking beauty to the shelter,/your flowers saved one part of it./ You smile in the spirit of Don Quixote:/ Free flowers for the poor/ could subvert the whole economy,/ beauty could ruin the banking system,/ kindness could wreck capitalism.

November Poetry of the Streets

Poetry
I remember, / I remember a moment./ When we refused to compromise./ When we decided not to change the rules,/ but the game./ When we made heads spin./ When love became power./ Yes, there was a moment./ We called it occupy.

Prayers and Poems from a Shelter

Poetry
“today at social security i did see/ a man shaking so badly he couldn't stand/ telling everyone he just got out of jail/ and needed a hand/ he had no teeth/ and looking in his eyes/ i could see he was in a place/ few on earth see”

Poets Ask: “Why War?”

Poetry
Poetry reveals the seen and unseen, hidden casualties of U.S. wars at home and overseas. “America zips down prayers/ and buttons up wars/ with battalions of/ impoverished youngsters/ duped into dying for dreams./ America indoctrinates/ then shames us/ for believing her spin./ 'Opportunity,' she sings,/ hiding our dead from view.”

Occupy Poetry

Poetry
Oh they’ve foreclosed the home of the free/ They mortgaged and sold/ for a little Wall Street gold/ this land of equality/ Oh they’ve foreclosed the home of the free/ Now we are the brave/ Occupy and save the country/ that’s home to you and me/ the country that’s our democracy.

The Voices of the Occupy Movement

Poetry
Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world, according to English poet Percy Shelley. Alameda poet Mary Rudge created profiles in poetry of the Occupy movement’s dedicated young organizers, pepper-sprayed university students, tent dwellers, longtime 1960s-era activists, jobless artists, inconvenienced bus riders, homeless squatters, and passive TV news watchers.

May Poetry of the Streets

Poetry
someone’s dying/ in the gutter somewhere/ with nothing but their souls laid bare/ nothing but their souls laid bare/ homeless child eating/ outta garbage can/ and not one person sees/ not one person sees/ ol’ woman fell on da street/ cuz she'd had nothin to eat

April Poetry of the Streets

Poetry
I found a haven where I can rest/ I found a haven, when in it, I feel blest./ It’s in a strange place though, surrounded by sounds/ of violence, sirens, people who are in need/ of a human touch of kindness./ Yes on this journey of homelessness/ I’ve found a place of Rest.

March Poetry of the Streets

Poetry
Sleepy bored despairing,/ gray beard, gray jacket,/ blue jeans,/ blue cap./ Beloved Labrador’s gentle gaze/ lends solace./ Handcrafted sign requests help;/ holding few coins,/ your box yawns open/ walking stick sighs./ Resting beside canine friend/ you breathe.

February Poetry of the Streets

Poetry
The wizards in old tales/ used to bury their hearts in secret places./ And unless you dug up the heart and / destroyed it,/ they were invulnerable and heartless./ Part of my heart is buried in People’s Park.