The Beggar Poem by PRATHAP KAMATH

Call a spade a spade,
call the old man a beggar;
he is fodder for poets.

One may begin like:

my hand that held the coin
knew a warm drop
that fell from a white eye.

Or

the beggar is a metaphor for amputated spaces,
(this, for erudite palates)
his words have blood at their edges.

Or

he sat beside me
like a prehistoric tombstone
over a buried civilization,
and I, an exhumed corpse
reeking of comforts.

Etc.

The beggar is a national treasure
dearly needed
to water our contentment.