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once i knew a madman...

he whispered to the lamp post,
he yelled at the road,
he held on to yellowed paper,
as if it was made of gold.
he smelled like a sewer,
he was filthy dressed in rags,
his shoes barely covered,
the socks of plastic bags.
he ran from most people,
his eyes were wide with fear,
he waved at all the voices,
only he could hear.
I wondered what had happened,
to make this kind of man,
I wondered if he just lost sight,
of some honourable plan.
I wished that i could save him,
wished I had a cure,
but when I approached him,
I sensed he was unsure.
I gave him some food,
I sat a few feet away,
I ate a bit with him,
pleased, he let me stay.
he mumbled about the lions,
the creatures and the spies,
I sat and listened closely,
to his raving cries.
when our food was eaten,
he sat for a while,
he looked directly at me,
offered me a smile.
He stood and started wandering,
then stopped so i could hear,
a thank you from this madman,
with a single happy tear.

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this is based on an old man who frequents the gas station where i catch my bus to work….he is an old and crazy madman…who likes a toasted bagle with cream cheese…


old, mad, man, crazy, feed

I am a poet at heart.
A writer in dreams.
A father always.
A man.

I am, perhaps, me.

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  • SimplyRed
    SimplyRedalmost 4 years ago

    Paul this is such a sad tale you have written it with such dignity for this poor dear man..“with a single happy tear.” a perfect words to complete this write x

  • girlinthestars
    girlinthestarsalmost 4 years ago

    fantastic poem. i always wonder about peoples lives, especially when they appear so lost. xx

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