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On my way to work one morning I saw a man lying on the street outside a shop, oblivious to the blazing sunshine and swarm of people that passed by. It inspired me to write this poem. As usual, all comments are welcome. 

Homeless man photo

By Patrick Smith


On concrete feathers

he lies, beneath

a raging sun

eyes slack with sleep.


Around him pound

scorn laced feet

that make a chalky

trail, a body wide.


Awake he dreams,

mares of day that

shake in screams

hoarse with need.


Plaques of his past

invade his head

like tangled caves

glossed in crystal snow.


He is Pompeii;

a man of ash

moulded into

an addict’s shell.