The Web Poetry Corner
The Web Poetry Corner
Bob Wiken
of
Fayetteville, AR, US
This collection is a little poetic peek into the life of Phil Bonnet, a middle aged man who has no address and moves around the streets of most any city in the bountiful USA.
If you have comments or suggestions for Bob Wiken, you can contact him or her at:
clebur19@mail.idt.net (Bob Wiken )
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Lost and Found
by
Bob Wiken
I huddle behind some cardboard boxes
trying to stay lost from the wind.
They help some, but I'm still found.
Asking
by
Bob Wiken
People's eyes ask how I got to such a sorry state.
I didn't get to it, it got to me.
Given my choice, I'd rather live in a duplex
with the landlord in the other side
so I can get my heat turned on
and get my pipes fixed when they break.
And maybe a blue pick-up with a radio that works
and I can come home form my job
and I can put my feet up
and I can sip a cold beer from the ice box.
But I suppose that's too much to ask.
Untitled
by
Bob Wiken
Oh, damn.
Here comes that bastard again.
His first punch to the kidneys
knocks me down. A kick to the head
is the last thing I remember until I awaken
to find my coat gone.
Merry Christmas
by
Bob Wiken
I love the lights this time of year.
I can listen to the carols played
over the P A speakers in the parking garage
across the street all night long.
Everyone is cheery. Unconsciously they
hold their packages with two hands as they pass.
A man in a tweed overcoat and a Russian fur hat
stopped, gave me five dollars and said,
"Merry Christmas", this morning.
I gave half to the man at the mission and
got a bowl of beef stew, the kind with potatoes
and onions in return. He said I didn't need to pay.
I told him he needs the money more than me.
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