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Robin A Spicer

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Member Since: Oct, 2002

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Unseen
by Robin A Spicer

Sunday, September 07, 2003

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Recent poems by Robin A Spicer
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           >> View all 100

Lest we Forget?

*******************


He shuffles down the windswept street
His burden heavy on his back.
Ancient shoes, on ancient feet
His worldly goods within the sack.

Upon his head a ragged hat,
Flops and covers greying hair
His ancient face is lined with pain
Stained with tears of his despair.

He stops to rummage in the bin.
He seeks to ease his appetite.
What treasures will he find within?
Among the refuse we cast from sight.

A sandwich, missing just a bite.
Some chocolate milk, it smells O.K.
He quickly shoves them out of sight,
Then bows his head, shuffles on his way.

He sits and dreams upon the grass,
Of better days so long ago.
Remembering deeds of long years past,
He wonders how he came so low.

He fumbles for his half cigar
Breathing deep, he savours the smoke.
His eyes are fixed in a far away stare,
He does not see the passing folk.

He’d answered his country’s call to war
His youthful life he had set aside.
He’d given his best, and given more.
When he’d returned, he found they’d lied.

No Hero’s welcome, when he came home.
Upon his chest no medals hung.
His young brides heart, cold as the tomb.
No Sagas of his deeds were sung.

Abandoned to his dreams and fears,
Of comrades who had fought and died.
He wept at their memory, despairing tears.
And of how he'd been, just cast aside.

He wandered back towards the street
His coat pulled tight, against the cold.
He limped in pain on aching feet,
Cursing the day that he got old.

He sleeps within a cardboard box,
In an alleyway, not far from you
In ragged clothes and threadbare socks,
He jealously guards his pack and shoes

Tomorrow he’ll go back to the street,
You’ll see him and quickly look away
As he rummages to find a bite to eat
And dreams and weeps over better days.

Robin. A. Spicer © 2003-09-08

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Reviewed by A PAX 9/9/2003
This is amazing...so well done, and true!
Reviewed by Erin Kelly-Moen 9/9/2003
Read your blogs, had to check out your bio and poetry. :) This piece is powerful, and fascinating...though I lived on the streets of Seattle for 2 months with a friend years ago, I was young and we were always actively aware of our sorroundings. I find the opposite in your piece, and it was beautiful, in its own painful way. I am struck by the differences, due to age I believe. Your man lived, maybe loved, fought a war, experienced many sensations and situations, misery and hard times, which is what caught my mind. Him sitting and "remembering", reliving the misery, oblivious to the outside world, his half cigar and his memories...I can't shake that that is important, that it explains perspective, or Time, in a partial way. Ha! Thanks, Robin, you've given me food for a future poem! And your piece is translucent and caring, you've walked us through one man's life, a man the reader wants to reach out to and help! :)
Reviewed by C.S. Snow (Reader) 9/8/2003
This is astounding!
You made me feel every word of this
from your soul!
Thank you for everything.

Aho, Brother.

-Christopher Scott Many Moons Snow
Reviewed by Retta (Reindeer) Mckenzie 9/8/2003
This was so very good, very poignant and so deeply felt tonight,

Reindeer
Reviewed by Jackie Brooks 9/8/2003
A sad tale indeed. I remember as a child seeing many 'men of the road,' that was a few years after the second war ended. They had ways of marking hospitable houses. I remember my grandmother bringing one into her kitchen and feeding him after seeing him collapse in the road. We don't see many now, just young kids sitting on city streets begging instead, maybe the new generation of wanderers. Jackie <> <
Reviewed by Tami Ryan 9/7/2003
Rob,

A tender, heartfelt write. I felt the emotions - beginning to end. Outstanding!

Tami
Reviewed by jude forese 9/7/2003
superbly crafted write about the sad plight of a vetran...
Reviewed by Glenna Cancilla (Reader) 9/7/2003
Robin,
An Excellent write!
So many over look those in need of a helping hand and forget that someday they to could be like the man in this story. Maybe not for the same reasons but ending up with the same out come.
Glenna
Reviewed by Andre Bendavi ben-YEHU 9/7/2003
I can hear the music of "Unseen" through the rhythm of the drums of reality... And the echoes...!

Inspired Poet, Robin Spicer, this one of its own. "Unseen" is poetry in six letters: Inspiring, Amusing, Inciting, Instructing, Excellent and Profound.

I have enjoyed this WRITING.

Andre Emmanuel Bnedavi ben-YEHU

Reviewed by Sandie Angel 9/7/2003
Hi Robin:

A heartfelt write...and yes, in some instances, this could be a true story.

Sandie Angel a.k.a. May Lu :o)
Reviewed by Evelyn Simon 9/7/2003
So vivid, and true. Excellent write.
Reviewed by Lady Peg (Reader) 9/7/2003
good write.
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