Poetry

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Beggar

Beggar, beggar in the street
Casting eyes that pierce the heart.
Crooked back and cobbled feet,
Another wretched morning’s start
He smiles, “Senior, some money?”

Now, walk along the Maléçon.
A man will ask you time of day.
He’ll walk you through these streets, his own.
You’ll buy the drinks and he will say,
“Perhaps you’d like some women?”

Or children in the market place
Who rush to crowd with outstretched hand.
Tattered clothes and dirty face,
They mumble, yet I understand
They need much more than pennies.

But Policeman barks his loud command!
Like flies, they scatter from his stick.
And I, the North American,
Rebuke the child, deny the sick
And say, “My friend, I’m sorry!”

Beggar, beggar in the street
Now views the night with downcast eye.
Crooked back and cobbled feet,
He summons up for one last try
And smiles, “Senior, some money?”

Composed in July of 1983 in
the Dominican Republic
by
Brian Douglas

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