Upon entering the greened-out park,
you find a man slumped beside a derelict potting shed.
The dogs attached to silver chains in both your hands
realise him long before you do,
raising their old white faces to sniff the acidic lull of liquor.
Not long after, you find a blackbird.
Feet first before the heavens,
like that spider you crushed under a Ministers face last night.
Feathers drawn out in its final butterfly stroke toward the air,
eyes plucked out already, probably by a lifelong friend.
And you remind yourself that,
not so different to the pull on your arms,
the soft accidental slide of a baking worm beneath your feet,
that should you peer around the corner
to the sleeping mat of that one slumped man,
or behind a tree, under that park bench, or even
a compost lid,
you’d find no friends
nor amber stout to feed his voice,
just the cramped up newspaper from yesteryear,
three shoes with holes in,
two shoelaces in a river,
him, all alone in the world.
© Eve Redwater 2012
Redwater Ramblings 
I’m always intrigued by your perspective!
Thanks Russell! Nice to hear from you. 😀
Quite sad, in the end, but true about life, its cruel isolation, realities. Crushing a spider in front of a Minister? ‘Bring that back to life, Rev!’ 😉
I based this one off things I actually saw walking the dogs one day… it really was sad. 😦
Sadly this is a scene we see all too often. But the details in your description stave off passivity. It pulls at the heart strings, Eve. Debra
Thank you Debra!
You have two followers named Russell. What are the odds? Did you take the photograph too? It’s very intriguing and goes well with the poem.
What are the odds indeed? 🙂 Yes I did, thanks!
two shoelaces in a river
Love this! And the photograph is wonderful.
Thank you MM! I think your recent photography is wonderful!
whew, yes…and him all alone in the world is not so different from us at times as well, other than circumstance…really like the textures and progression in this…you paint it well for us eve….
Thank you for visiting again Brian! I’m glad I could get my experience across in this one. 🙂
This is a really intriguing word weave…crushed spiders on minister’s face, plucked eyes by a lifelong friend ..all sounds like a loss of hope and a cynicism about God & faith perhaps? Without hope we could end up like the slumped over man reeking of alcohol and dying alone….so sad…but fascinating imagery, Eve.
Thank you for reading and leaving me your thoughts Louise! It’s not so much about faith, but I can definitely see the interpretation; personally though, it’s more to do with a general loss of hope, but I won’t go into things too much!
Pulled at my heart strings a bit–crushed spiders–you have a unique vision–lovely write!!
Thank you Audrey!
Lovely to see you here. 🙂
hi – loved the slight edge to this – quite right… your balance it makes for an intriguing
poem and i love that it was inspired by a walk… i could see you puting it together, as i do on similar walks – it creates shapes and spaces and allows for air – i really enjoyed the read…
and that quote… well; never a truer word have i read and understood lol
cheers 🙂
Hello Arron, thank you for stopping by and reading! I’m happy that you like it!
I miss walking my two dogs, it’s a peaceful and enjoyable experience. 🙂
I’d also love to know which quote you mean, I have a few that rotate in my header you see!
even in all the despair, hope bleeds through… nice.
Thank you for reading and visiting Kellie!
…eyes plucked out already, probably by a lifelong friend…
Speaks to the matter-of-fact ruthlessness of nature–but what of the man? Are we humans any more elevated than that, when social Darwinism prevails?
Stirring thoughts to say the least Timoteo, definitely food for thought.
Thank you for reading this!
This is so cool Eve. I see myself in this. I walk my dog early every morning. Before most people are up. We’ve seen the strangest things on our walks. Homeless people fighting in the park, car accidents, party goers passed out on the beach, always sidewalk pizzas from the night before – I live on a party strip. I love foggy mornings the best. On a foggy morning, before everyone gets up, you can pretend you are the last one left on earth.
“On a foggy morning, before everyone gets up, you can pretend you are the last one left on earth.”
That’s so wonderful, I completely understand what you mean! It certainly holds a ‘post-apocalyptic’ feel to it.
Thank you very much for reading my poem and leaving me you wonderful thoughts! 🙂
I love how you wove together the man, the dogs on the leads, and the bird. This is melancholy, but so deftly woven.
Hello Fireblossom, lovely to see you here! Thank you for your kind thoughts. 🙂
Isn’t it amazing what one can discover right outside the front door?
““Remember what Bilbo used to say: It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.””
Thank you for your visit and comment on my latest post. It’s a poem I’m proud to share.
Hello Hime!
That is probably one of my favourite quotes by Tolkien, that and: “How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back. There are some things that time can not mend. Some hurts that go too deep… that have taken hold.”
Thank you for reading and commenting on this poem. 🙂
What a sad, sad portrait.
And a sad sight to behold.
Thank you for reading Thomas, I really appreciate it!
You have the keen eye of a sleuth, and that eye serves you incredibly well, with the level of detail, piled upon detail, that makes the day come real for us – the silver chains holding the dogs, the crushed spider, the shoelaces – so real that we are there. That is a gift.
Hello Samuel, thank you so much for this comment, and for reading my poem! Your thoughts are so touching, really. It makes me so happy that you think that of me!
A very sad look at our world, You create a powerful image very hard to forget.
Thank you, Francis. I always appreciate your thoughts and visits to my blog. 🙂
The forgotten,not quite forgotten in your lovely poem…A sad weave…a life betrayed by the life long friend…the smell of acidic liquor…you paint a vivid, somewhat cynical and sad portrait , one that’s stamped now in my brain. Beautifully done.
I think a cynical and sad portrait pretty much sums up how I wanted this poem to come across. Thanks so much for reading and commenting on it!
What a fine, sobering, even scary meditation on how much emptiness and death crowds and crows the intimate circle of the living. It makes one have great empathy for those who have lost much, how easy it is to end up there, and how important it is to treasure this moment. I think too, that weaving presence and absence together (with its ultimate expression in life and death) makes for a perspective that is true and honest. Great work, Eve.
Hello Brendan, thank you for taking the time to visit here!
Your thoughts really are astounding! To take so much from one of my poems is as heartwarming as it is fascinating – thank you!
absolutely interesting and amazing piece, i love how you weave the imagery through the power of the words, love it…
Thank you WoH! I really appreciate your comment — so glad that you like it. 🙂
Now, I have to say that this was by far my favorite piece from you. I love the dark tone and the sadness in it.
“Feathers drawn out in its final butterfly stroke toward the air,
eyes plucked out already, probably by a lifelong friend.”
Were my favorite lines. They gave me chills! Good, good job.
Wow, thank you for saying that! I’m glad that you like it so! 😀
Wonderfully written, Eve, albeit a sad picture you’ve portrayed, but very true to life. Your image is so perfect, as well! 🙂
Usually I don’t get poetry, you see I am not a very poetic person but this is good stuff! Hence, following 🙂 Keep it up! and need I say that your choice of pictures is awesome? 😀
I’ve never seen a more accurate evocation of the experience of coming upon a homeless person in his bivouac, nor perhaps of his existence within it.
@ Russell Smith: Russell is a great name isn’t it?!
@ Eve, I read this one again. It was that good!
Realistic, therefore evocative.