A Beggar


I shelter the bones in a rag

Allowing passersby about their new styles to brag

I walk the dirty streets barefoot

Driving rhythm to my broken flute


I’m a beggar down street fifty one

And I breakfast on Crumbs of generous sun


I see the saint, the sinner, the crazy and the wise

I watch those in rags and those in branded ties

Their looks like released triggers; got no human grace

 Searching their pockets for coins to slap against my face

“The Young Beggar” painting By Bartolome Esteban Murillo


I’m a beggar down street fifty one

And I breakfast on crumbs of generous sun

 Some jobless stop by me to draw a chat

 Nothing’s more annoying than a rich spoiled brat

 Who brags about touring the world

 I doubt he once around his feet swirled

I’m a beggar down street fifty one

And I dine on crumbs
of generous sun

I also meet who envy me for who I am

“Your freedom isn’t like ours, a flam”

With my broken flute I travel from spot to spot

Cheap wine had never made of me a silly sot


I’m a beggar down street fifty one

And I dine on crumbs of generous sun

                                                                        

                                                                                                             

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20 thoughts on “A Beggar

  1. You are helping me become a lover of poetry. Awesome, visual, moving … and, btw, i play the flute … i could be a beggar … oh yeah xoxo m

  2. To love a beggar or to love a thief,
    Let your heart do the talking,
    enough to give some relief,

    Sit at their corner just for awhile,
    Count all the people who pass by,
    Without even giving a smile,

    A nickel, dime, paltry quarter or more,
    Are the poor ignored and forgotten,
    Once the rich pass through the door?

  3. Pingback: Doubled Seven | DIVINE RHYTHM

"Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought & the thought has found its words"; I know mine's make no sun shines, but....YOU can tell better!

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