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Array ( [sid] => 125741 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => A RED ROSE FOR A DYING CHILD [time] => 2006-09-14 15:04:39 [hometext] => [bodytext] => This one was a hard one to do, but in Asheville there are a lot of homeless people here and no one seems to care or take notice. I can't do that. So I had to write something like this, and make it about a child so maybe others will stop the next time and think that even if it is a grown man or woman, they are still someones child...

He sleeps tonight,
that child in the alley,
using the blanket I gave him last night.
He crouches in darkness,
trying to keep warm,
trying to maintain his life,
to keep his dead soul alive,
to make sure he doesn't leave this place,
without making an impression first,
without making it known he existed.

Last night, he dreamed his soul escaped,
it drifted above to wake him,
he wasn't dead yet, just empty, that's all.

Now when I pass by him...
I don't give him food or clothing,
I give him a red rose.
A red rose for a dying child,
As I hand it to him he smiles.
He looks up at me and thanks me for it, and then awaits his fate.
What was once his fear has now become his escape,
The day he has always been avoiding has now come.
A red rose for a dying child,
and a white one for the dead.

He's sleeping now,
He left this dreadful place,
Because he has fulfilled his vows.
He made his impression on my heart and the world knows that he existed.
I grew to know him, I talked with him,
spent time with him
That's all he ever wanted.
That child.
I visit the spot where he used to try to keep warm,
Huddled up in the blanket I gave him.
The ritual continues every night,
Even though he is gone.
A red rose for the dying child, I'd say...
And a white one for the dead.
~Rhiannon [comments] => 1 [counter] => 157 [topic] => 32 [informant] => Uncertain_Oblivion [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry )

A RED ROSE FOR A DYING CHILD

Contributed by Uncertain_Oblivion on Thursday, 14th September 2006 @ 03:04:39 PM in AEST
Topic: SadPoetry

This one was a hard one to do, but in Asheville there are a lot of homeless people here and no one seems to care or take notice. I can't do that. So I had to write something like this, and make it about a child so maybe others will stop the next time and think that even if it is a grown man or woman, they are still someones child...

He sleeps tonight,
that child in the alley,
using the blanket I gave him last night.
He crouches in darkness,
trying to keep warm,
trying to maintain his life,
to keep his dead soul alive,
to make sure he doesn't leave this place,
without making an impression first,
without making it known he existed.

Last night, he dreamed his soul escaped,
it drifted above to wake him,
he wasn't dead yet, just empty, that's all.

Now when I pass by him...
I don't give him food or clothing,
I give him a red rose.
A red rose for a dying child,
As I hand it to him he smiles.
He looks up at me and thanks me for it, and then awaits his fate.
What was once his fear has now become his escape,
The day he has always been avoiding has now come.
A red rose for a dying child,
and a white one for the dead.

He's sleeping now,
He left this dreadful place,
Because he has fulfilled his vows.
He made his impression on my heart and the world knows that he existed.
I grew to know him, I talked with him,
spent time with him
That's all he ever wanted.
That child.
I visit the spot where he used to try to keep warm,
Huddled up in the blanket I gave him.
The ritual continues every night,
Even though he is gone.
A red rose for the dying child, I'd say...
And a white one for the dead.
~Rhiannon

Copyright © Uncertain_Oblivion ... [ 2006-09-14 15:04:39]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: A RED ROSE FOR A DYING CHILD (User Rating: 1 )
by lillyjane on Friday, 15th September 2006 @ 06:12:35 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

I wrote a poem called Homeless about the same subject, in London I have seen people sleeping in shop doorways, going down bins to eat.. I have tried to help but a few pound here and there is not enough. Not enough is done for homeless people well done to highlight it, brilliant poem.xxx

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