Uriah Hamilton


A Woman’s Dirty Hair - Poem by Uriah Hamilton

An old car
Moves slowly
Through cold rain;
A modern city
Grows ancient
In the sad fog
Of urban despair.

A woman’s dirty hair
Is pulled
By an oily hand
In a rat-infested
Motel room.

God ignores suffering
But also kindly turns his head
To the indiscriminate sex
That helps the hopeless
Alleviate poverty-born
Unrelenting stress.


Comments about A Woman’s Dirty Hair by Uriah Hamilton

  • (12/10/2006 1:58:00 PM)

    A precious precious poem..God sees us and cares for us even when we do what shouldnt be done..We are always loved by Him-I beleive that.You remind us of how fragile we are One of your finest poems, but then I just love the way you write and think Wishing you joy-Pia (Report)Reply

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  • (7/2/2006 5:03:00 PM)

    Sorrow, and compassion, uniquely blended. An admirable and eloquent write. (Report)Reply

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  • (3/13/2006 3:54:00 AM)

    Very thoughtful. He is the Merciful, the Compassionate and Just... this is what I think reading your poem and clearly seeing the moment and image you have captured. (Report)Reply

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  • (3/8/2006 10:50:00 PM)

    powerful imagery, Overwhelming sadness. For souls like this, the angels weep.

    Regards,

    Sandra
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  • (3/8/2006 7:57:00 PM)

    Dear Uriah,

    A very fine poem revealing a very well-developed sense of social conscience and social consciousness.

    Best,

    Hugh
    (Report)Reply

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  • (3/8/2006 7:51:00 PM)

    10 from me for the sheer hopeless beauty to this poem, Uriah.
    Joy
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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, March 8, 2006



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