Investigate
Check it out, see what's going down...
As they gather round, huddling and roiling
A pabulum ring around a mound
Passersby rubber-neck; seeing crowds
Seeing nothing, but will say they saw if asked
They were there, passing, staring...
And eventually the lights arrive
Rapid responce, but not so rapid as a crowd...
A crowds rabid vapid responce
Slowly they part; deprived and repelled
Slowly churn and shuffle rancorously back
As help arrives a few years too late
3 comments:
Minutes always seem like years when you wait for rescue.
Hello, I found you on Sunday Scribblings as I tried the same prompt. Your use of the word "pabulum" (thank you for a new word!) puts in my mind's eye a homeless person surrounded by the flotsam and jetsam that passes for their diet. Hence the "years too late." That's what I took from it. Thought-provoking, cynical, and so very real, a good poem! Amy
http://sharplittlepencil.wordpress.com/2011/11/29/living-love-for-kate/
ooh, very good - a true word-picture
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