Streets

Streets short poem

Photo by Franco Folini


Homeless vets fill our streets
dealing with addictions they cannot beat
Stand on street corners begging for food
Often standing with broken down shoes
It makes me sad to see what happened to them
Returned home to anger and hate from a war 40 years ago
Tired not to let emotions show
Our boys today come home with missing limbs and distraught minds
Soldiers trouble adapting to normal lives
Sometimes they just cannot survive
Sick, hungry, and tired when they finally come for help
Then they don’t stay
All they do is run away
And go back to the streets
Somewhere out there they still have families and friends who care
Soldiers feel life on the streets is a burden to bear
It’s sad to see what happened to these warriors
Reduced to life on the streets

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Profile photo of Teresa Nicastro

Teresa Nicastro

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
43 yr old nurse started writing in Nov 2015, a lot of my poetry in military based because I take care of veterans,but am starting to try new things hope you like them.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

The Streets Are Uneasy

The Streets Are Uneasy long poem

in the dark of night you maybe looking for a fight the streets are uneasy one word to the wise one must never compromise to listen to twisted lies was a D.J. junkie from back in the day spinning records

These streets

These streets short poem

Faded prima donnas pave the way God’s drunk and moves with a swagger Another kid bites a burning bullet today He never stops to stare or linger Proven faithful lie their way to the altar Another lamb to bring to

Greying Streets

Greying Streets short poem

Greying streets whisper cold dust, a different time Their utterance echoes,carves on my glass mind. They hush a hymn so soft, it dangles like innocence, from an old child. I, an antique vase made to their design. Greying streets whisper,