Homelessness Poems
Poems about the Homeless and Homelessness
by Michael R. Burch
These are poems about the homeless, homelessness, victims of war, and similar themes.
Homeless Us
by Michael R. Burch
The coldest night I ever knew
the wind out of the arctic blew
long frigid blasts; and I was you.
......
Kill Me, Please.
by Frangipani Rhett
I wrote some words
From the deepest of my soul
Wrote them on my right knee
Should I stay or should I go
I've had showers and
I've changed my clothes
But I keep them where you can't see
Let me die. Kill me, please.
......
Homeless
by Ruth Evans
Down and out and filled with doubt the sleepy homeless lie, in wet woolly coats done up to their throats, a warm home is for what they’d die.
And as the coins drop, from the generous lot, a small ray of hope they see, for that means some food to fuel their soul, or a hot steaming cup of tea.
But ponder as we might, on this frosty cold night, how someone can lose their own home, the answer you see, is plain unto me how they’ve ended up cold and alone.
For they were once like you and me, with their own family, some happier times they once shared, and through no fault of their own, they’ve ran out of luck and now it seems nobody cares.
So remember next time, through the muck and the grime, the friendly face down there with no shoes, needs a smile and a care, and just wants to share and could very easily be you .
Kill Me, Please.
by Frangipani Rhett
I wrote some words
From the deepest of my soul
Wrote them on my right knee
Should I stay or should I go
I've had showers and
I've changed my clothes
But I keep them where you can't see
Let me die. Kill me, please.
......
Poems about the Homeless and Homelessness
by Michael R. Burch
These are poems about the homeless, homelessness, victims of war, and similar themes.
Homeless Us
by Michael R. Burch
The coldest night I ever knew
the wind out of the arctic blew
long frigid blasts; and I was you.
......
Homeless
by Ruth Evans
Down and out and filled with doubt the sleepy homeless lie, in wet woolly coats done up to their throats, a warm home is for what they’d die.
And as the coins drop, from the generous lot, a small ray of hope they see, for that means some food to fuel their soul, or a hot steaming cup of tea.
But ponder as we might, on this frosty cold night, how someone can lose their own home, the answer you see, is plain unto me how they’ve ended up cold and alone.
For they were once like you and me, with their own family, some happier times they once shared, and through no fault of their own, they’ve ran out of luck and now it seems nobody cares.
So remember next time, through the muck and the grime, the friendly face down there with no shoes, needs a smile and a care, and just wants to share and could very easily be you .
