This March, Poetic Friends sponsored a poetry contest benefiting The Bridge, a homeless services alliance in Dallas, Texas. Poets from across the nation composed poems around the theme “Humanitarianism: the doctrine that humanity's obligations are concerned wholly with the welfare of the human race.”
This contest turned into an Open Call on Open Salon, with a local Dallas business sponsoring the entry fee for the top-ranked poems. 14 talented OS poets entered, and 4 of their pieces won Honorable Mention, with publication on the Poetic Friends website.
Enjoy their work below, and if you're interested, follow the links to read the work of the top three winners.
I love the four poems that won in this contest, and am also grieving the lack of mention of several favorites of mine that apparently got lost in the "judging shuffle." I want each of you to know how much I admire your work and your magnificent hearts. All of you focused your talents on people who are usually ignored and trampled. All of you contributed the perspective of your unique experiences with schools, shelters, family members, conscience. All of you lifted thoughts for a better world - and the money contributed on behalf of your poems will offer food, a bed, and, in the beautiful words of my friend CoyoteOldStyle, "a strand of dignity."
Thank you to all who took the time to write.
And congratulations to
who all won Honorable Mentions in the contest.
Honorable Mention
Houseless. Not Homeless.
She lays a yellow daffodil on the blue plastic dashboard of the old green Honda.
Pillows, blankets, towels in the back seat.
What's left of their clothes in the trunk.
"See?" she says.
"Just like home."
Not homeless. Just houseless.
And it just can't be like this forever.
Hardest part is finding places to clean up.
Brushing your teeth in a gas station sink.
It's noon on a Friday.
Darkened sky as if there never was a sun.
They move with the traffic.
The few who still have jobs motor home for an early holiday.
So the two in the Honda - not homeless - they are houseless - find the flow and drive.
When all this started, they were worried most 'bout the privacy,
But no one really sees them.
And there are no phones.
So it's not so bad.
And it just can't be like this forever.
Nights they're so tired, that it's easy to sleep anywhere.
What's hard is that one of them has to stay awake,
Waiting for the glass to smash, the steel cylinder, oily smell of the gun.
They have to save the car,
Because they know about the shelters,
And after that comes only cardboard.
Their blanket can't look too good, or it's gone too.
They came to the car so fast,
Such a think cold line between the house, the TV set, big winter coats and shoes.
Then he got sick, they closed the store, the insurance was gone
And they became invisible.
One day they were serving food to the homeless at the Wednesday night meal,
And then a light went out. Some problems with the insurance.
And they were lining up to eat.
And it just can't be like this forever.
Come 3:00 on that dark afternoon
Everybody almost home now
Everybody almost home but the couple in the Honda.
They keep driving.
Sam Cooke sings on the radio.
"See," she says, "we still got some music."
Sam Cooke sings on the radio in the crowded car they now call home:
"It's been a long time coming
But I know
A change is gonna come.
Oh yes it is."
"I can drive for a while," she says. "You just rest. Close your eyes."
And it just can't be this way forever.
Honorable Mention
On Spying My Homeless Uncle in a Booth at the Big Hole
Air rising like yeast.
Vinyl sticking like heat.
Shoulder to shoulder with sugar, strangers
smell of comfort, slush on sodden floors:
In the full woolen muffler air of the donut shop
my Uncle Eric sits, missing gloves.
Has it been so many years? - Uncle Eric lacks
the powdered cruller curls once crowning his head,
the teeth once lining his gums.
In the donut shop,
Uncle Eric eats only the smell of it, this swollen air
drinks only the unsweetened tea of it, this wet air
in the lemon jelly custard yellow mug which
he picks up & sets down on the counter -
which he picks up again & sets
down on the counter.
A meal is out of the question,
all offers off the table.
It comes to me then - the absurdity of my birthday present to him, impersonally given gleaming kelly thin
Green chenille throw with matched fringed lap pillow left in a p.o. box - crystallizing like sugar.
Honorable Mention
Perspective
I see dirty dishes
You see a warm meal
I see piles of folded laundry
You see a clean change of clothes
I see toys strewn across the tile floor
You see a place for your children to play
I see windows that need to be washed
You see protection from the storms
I see with my eyes closed
You see what's real
Honorable Mention
Homelessness Isn't What It Used to Be.
The blues is a spoonful of cold mashed potatoes
Red-eye gravy – no grits
The blues is a worm in a fresh-picked tomato
Green-beans without bacon bits
The blues is feathers in your fried chicken
Ribs that ain’t nothin’ but bone
The blues is missin’ your momma’s cookin’
The blues is hungry for home
If it feels ‘bout like this
Yes, that’s what the blues is
The blues is an old coat with patches on patches
A warm hat the wind blew away
The blues is a wool shirt that itches and scratches
A collar that’s startin’ to fray
The blues is your Sunday-best suit that won’t fit you
Good shoes got a hole in the sole
The blues is wet clothes when the winter wind hits you
The blues is naked and cold
If it feels ‘bout like this
Yes, that’s what the blues is
The blues is a house filled up to the rafters
With memories that just won’t move on
The blues is an echo of long ago laughter
A shadow that’s there and then gone
The blues is no lights and no heat and no water
And somebody shut off the phone
The blues is no place to go when it’s over
The blues is so all alone
If it feels ‘bout like this
Yes, that’s what the blues is
The blues is hungry, naked and lonesome
Yes, that’s what the blues is
©2009 Tom Cordle
LINKS TO OTHER WINNERS
1st Place - Julianna McCarthy
2nd Place - Mary Langer Thompson
3rd Place - Susan Miller
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Ann Nichols
AtHomePilgrim
benjamin_the_donkey
froggy
The Yellow Starlings
gracielou
Salon.com
Comments
"When Worlds Collide" especially touched me. I see a person homeless and think, "there but for the grace of god go I," and only some times I try to help.
Congratulations to everyone, and thanks, annette