The Street Poem by Not Long Left

The Street



A junkie shivers under the sun, the poet
scans the streets searching for that one word.
The senile midnight street walker rests her
head for the day. The old war veteran spits on
his medals, rubbing the memories until they shine.


We all look upwards when a plane passes.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ernestine Northover 29 June 2006

And perhaps we are all looking even higher Vincent. Lovely poem and I love the last line. Love Ernestine XXX

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John Tiong Chunghoo 28 June 2006

the last line does not really tally.

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Not Long Left

Not Long Left

The Molten Core
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