Replying to a comment on:

Won’t Somebody Be My Friend (Prose Poem) by amanda_dcosta

I am alone , from far off lands I’ve walked the streets of old. I have no roof to call my own, I live out in the cold. When I was young I’d scamper ‘bout with mum and dad and sis, from place to place we’d travel on I knew no life but this. We’d go from door to door in search of food, and clothes and drink; some gave us these though not enough in sickness we did sink. Till finally, I was alone, death took us all but me. How cruel life’s face shone that day and it still seems to be. The life I lived, I shudder to think I’ve passed from year to year, with no hopes, no hugs, no love but only tears and fear. People turn and laugh at me and with their tongue abuse “Why don’t you earn your livelihood and make your self some use?” No one would offer me a job though they still thought I should. To them I was untouchable and of course, up to no good. I’ve tried my hand at shoe shine and selling papers in the street. But all that I remember is the scene of passing feet -2- And thus I lived from day to day moving about was life. Till in a land I know not which I found myself a wife. Together, somewhere, we lived sometime I had a home at last. The two of us, we made a team and time passed very fast. Fate seemed to have a hold on me as it, my wife, did take. I could not understand my plight nor meaning of life make. Into deeper despair I sank, and into sickness too. Lord, how I survived to this day, Is absurd although it’s true! I’m eighty-seven years old now. My feet and joints ache. I’ve almost lost my eye sight and my back does seem to break. I’ve lived a hard and lonely life I’ve lived off wastes and crumbs, I’ve lived trough rain and sunshine, I’ve lived in dirty slums. And all I’ve asked these many years is whether He’s above and whether He’s the One called ‘just’ and whether He is love. I do not seem to understand What life is all about. At times I’d want my life to end But then at times hope sprouts. -3- And so I live my last few days It seems to me like this, to share the story of my life and what this big world gives. I hope that my life story will inspire hearts of stone to feel the needs of others especially of those alone. I have no home or fortune I know not what is fame and when I leave this hard world back no one will know my name. Yet, there is hope that someday I will certainly find true love and joy and happiness from what I leave behind.

lmp 9-Jun-06/9:50 AM
interesting response. for the record, i guess my "bottles" would be soda or seltzer, but more likely cups of coffee. (i don't partake of alcohol, if that was your implication.) as an aside, i think it not very civil of you to suggest that i would be come a drunken sot; you really know nothing of me and my life not to mention my spiritual fortitude in the face of adversity.

the other interesting part of your response is that i do, in fact, the very thing you suggest. i do acknowledge folks "on the street". i do not offer words of cheer; those sentiments are usually the last thing a person on the skids wants to hear; it comes off callous on the cheermaker's part. instead, if i don't merely catch their eye and nod in acknowledgement, i listen to their plea (or more often their con line) and reply simply, "i cannot help you". The meaning behind my words is that the best person to help them is themselves, especially so the further down they have fallen. it is a credo i live by myself, and i have accepted very little help getting to where i am, and what help i have received has almost always been repaid as best as i am able. i do not believe in handouts.

all that being said, the intent of my original comment was not as much to do with the subject or even the content, but more in the way in which you have presented it. if, as you have said in the response above, you are relating this tale so that readers will feel the needs of others, perhaps you could make more of a point addressing those who do not feel your subject's needs. perhaps write about those who do not take notice. it starts to remind me of the song by the Pet Shop Boys, "the Theatre". Not much in the way of peotry, but:
http://www.lyricsdepot.com/pet-shop-boys/the-theatre.html

in parting, i would like to point out another line in your comment above.
"Not having material wealth is one thing, but having a feeling of lon[e]liness with no one to share your suffering is an agony in itself."
Basically, you are sayiong that misery loves company. I always found that to be a selfish sentiment to harbor. if i am miserable why would i want anyone else to suffer the same? just so they can feel my pain? to what end? so they will help me? PAH!




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