Man in the doorway…


Bereft- bile rising on a tide of crimson tears

Soul surrendered.


Forget the humdrum faces of the faithful

Languish in the liminality of loss that lengthens the hours of every day since.

Bury your head. Bury your heart.


That which hath gone and cannot be gathered

For the past is passed, and whilst not to be forgotten cannot pulse again with life

Dust beckons.


Hooded, labelled, lost on the fringe

Of a world that ceased to care, no compassion.



© Alison Jean Hankinson

This isn’t my usual style and it is a poem for the man in the doorway many months ago, perhaps it is his back-story. It is for Napowrimo day 13.

This is for open link night with d’Verse.

Author: alisonhankinson

Walking tall whenever I can.

16 thoughts on “Man in the doorway…”

  1. I know that man in the doorway, there is many such as he, lost to the world, a world devoid of compassion.
    And how quick are we to attach the label, write him off, this much easier than the effort of caring.
    And what labels do we attach to ourselves…for we deserve them more…
    Anna :o]

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I like how “Deadbeat” bookends the poem. This made me think of all those (men or women) that are lost, troubled, forgotten and suffering inside. I think there are many…that we may call crazy, that we dismiss. A beautifully written poem, Alison.

    Liked by 1 person

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