This Poem was Submitted By: Nancy Ann Hemsworth On Date: 2008-03-21 14:15:51 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Strays

Walk softly cross this street, alive Do not give in, to dance it's jive For only fools do partner here And precious few, get to survive Cold city streets engulfed in fear. These images that haunt the night Of boys and girls, who work their plight Their bodies, souls rot with decay Their burden heavy, bound with fright They turn their tricks another day My mind goes back to walk those streets Turns every corner in defeat These images won’t go away Night after night, this scene repeats Itself, when my thoughts run astray For it was not so long ago That I have walked, with eyes cast low Past dealers, pimps, along my way Beneath the shadows counting dough Made off the poor forgotten strays And in my thoughts these pictures come Of tortured faces, wretched slums Of  people, with no will to pray That have no trust in anyone  I hang my head in deep dismay. Can no one take their pain away?

Copyright © March 2008 Nancy Ann Hemsworth


This Poem was Critiqued By: Duane J Jackson On Date: 2008-04-06 00:05:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.00000
Hello Nancy, This 'street' you speak of is layered in levels of darkness....this could be a 'literal' street or even a state of mind...depending on the reader...this could be a journey back in time ...I like the build-up and the last two verses are most powerful in creating a climax of poetic thought....I would have liked to see some stronger images in the first two stanzas as they are paramount in launching your piece...When you mention 'my mind goes back to walk those streets'..im taken back to the bodies rotting in decay, lost souls etc...(i would like a stronger picture to walk back to). However, this was a wonderful read...good flow and climax. duane.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2008-03-29 19:04:10
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Nancy, I've experienced the misery of these sad people. There seems to be more and more doing drugs, lost souls, homeless. Unless they change they will die too young. I feel your empathy. If only we could illicit change. Good poem/full of compassion.... Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2008-03-28 08:22:25
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Nancy, I enjoyed this read, for the truth it holds, in a world of forgotten people. Everyone is not given the same opportunities, no matter what "the world says", we have to fight to get what we want in life, and fight even harder to keep it. The world has changed. Your poem provokes a sadness, of lost souls looking for direction, and not being able to find one. So, they live the only way they know how to. It's really a shame, but anyone in today's society could be at risk of loosing everything they've worked so hard for. In other words, shit happens, whether you think you've got it made, there are no permanent guarantees for any of us. Very insightful, and well worth reading. Best to you, Deni
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2008-03-25 09:29:30
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Nancy.....nice to find your work this morning. Powerful read it is, you did a great job bringing to life with images the people you are speaking of. The words flow in that it brakes one heart to think perhaps I may know one of these lost souls. I am afraid though no one but themselves can take their pain away and change the road they journey on life through. Hope and pray you are well. Happy Spring, God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2008-03-21 21:53:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
I believe, Nancey, pain to be the fortune of avarice. These street people elect a life on the edge out of an avarice for life, unwilling to expend deserving labor for it. So they plunge into the depths, selling mind, body, and what can be pawned (usually of someone else's)for the quick fix, the quick pleasure, thinking to trade duration for a short cut to the Fates. You've taken care to conform to form, but a bit too predictably with respect to substance. More illusion, or metaphor would work. In the last verse you introduce the first person, "I hang my head in deep dismay"... not good. Always, a poet must have an obligatory reason for injecting themselves into their poem. You don't seem to have one. And we know, as inclined as you demonstrate, in the details of street life, that you know the answer to your last line's question. Add more life and meaning by doing something like, Will they overdose today? Your poem has a good title, good instincts well expressed, a sense of justifed judgement (refreshingly so,) and a demonstrable concern for your fellow man. A little work and you would have a successful poem. JCH
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