The lady with bags at Christmas

The lady with bags at Christmas


I espied an old lady, filled with dismay

On a cold dank night in ‘Woolworths’ doorway

That’s no way to be spending Christmas eve

Freezing to death, how could her, I just leave


Huddled amongst her entire worldly possession’s

I silently offered up my intercessions

Contained in an old shopping trolley, all that she had

Just one of millions, homeless, how immeasurably sad


In this day and age in our civilized society

This dear old soul, the epitome of sobriety 

Is being pissed upon, every single night

Metaphorically speaking, and actually sometimes her plight


Who gives a fuck for the homeless and old?  

Left to fend for themselves, left out in the cold.

Government minsters with their heads up their arses

Don’t give a shit about the working classes


So, what chance for the homeless, isolated and proud

In their untold numbers that most disavowed.



◄ The prodigal poem is home

Grenfell Tower ►



Mon 10th Dec 2018 13:05

Thank you also for the like Becky.



Thu 6th Dec 2018 06:54

Morning Don my old mucker.

I don't like using words like mucker
except changing the m and substituting F

My knowledge and command of queens English is not proficient and comprehensive enough to express my anger and frustration and hurt without resorting to profanities and expletives sadly.

I worry (truly) about throwing in the f word and totally refrain from using the c word. conservatives bugger sorry bout that.

More on this when I get back from work


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Don Matthews

Wed 5th Dec 2018 22:57

I usually don't like seeing strong language on the site but this passes with me. I feel your anger expressed as

Government minsters with their heads up their arses
Don’t give a shit about the working classes

Well spoken Po



Wed 5th Dec 2018 18:11

Its like the Christmas lights going on having the joy to read your illuminating comments MC
Thanks mate

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M.C. Newberry

Wed 5th Dec 2018 17:29

Do what you can...when you can. No one can save the world.
Living (and working for many years) in the heart of London, I have
had experience in facing and acting on what is a fact of life in any
metropolis on a daily basis.
Stop if you are able...
Walk on if you must.
Live with the loose-lipped label
And accusations that are unjust.


Wed 5th Dec 2018 15:14

Hi Kate
Thank you for commenting.
I cannot ever remember my poems. I have loads of A5 note pads that I used to scribble poems down in with a pencil.

I get so many of my poems in my head as I drive. I used to have to get them down or they would fade from my mind. In addition, I often wake up with a whole poem in my head. I have to get up now and bash away on the keyboard before I even get dressed.

I have a voice recorder that I use sometimes as well now. Look at me, putors voice recorders, well down with the kids.
I’ve just got to master grammar and spelling now and I’m good to go.

I am always so pleased to see new people post comments on my vain attempts at some vanity publishing on the interwebthinggymebob.

This place is full of such remarkable talent and great poets that support and give encouragement and insight along the way.

I am a newbie here and not seen any of your poems yet. Which is why I love seeing new names that comment. I always look back at what others are posting to gain inspiration and, well a different perspective on things.

Being a Leo I am very opinionated LOL
Thanks for dropping in Kate


<Deleted User> (19913)

Wed 5th Dec 2018 11:49

There's truth in those words about the plight of the homeless Po, and clearly plenty of insight into yourself. We're all guilty of brushing broadly at times, and nothing wrong with passion. I think it's fantastic you still have the poem. ?


Wed 5th Dec 2018 08:39

This was the first poem I ever attempted to write.

From the ‘Woolworths’ reference you can see it is from another time, another world.
Thirty years have passed since I penned this. Far from things being ‘far better now’

I have witnessed a sea change. Back then our cities were full of shops that sold goods we manufactured and grew. Hardly any shops were empty, not just of customers, but the shops themselves.

Today in most towns and cities shops with boarded up windows and doors blight almost every street.

However, we have an abundance of charity shops, betting shops, and coffee shops. What does that tell us?

I was thirty when I first put pen to paper, I remember it like yesterday because I felt I could vent my frustrations and often my anger at the TPTB.

You may have seen, in a comment on a poem I liked this week, I stated “the next time I vote it will be the first!” also this week I commented that I never talk about politics or religion.
I said quote “It’s all the same shit in a different bucket”

You cannot/must not tar everybody with same brush my friend I am fully aware that my terse comments sound exactly like I am and I do.

I stained my log shed last week that I made myself. I was so pleased to have finished it and slapped the stain on it in… well lets say an excited fashion. The stain went everywhere, all over me, my sister in law, who was standing several feet away and the grass!

When I get excited about anything, good, bad or indifferent… that is what I tend to do tar everybody and everything with that indiscriminate brush. My bad.

What I gave that lady would not even buy a cup of coffee in one of those tax cheating MF’n shops
Opps! I better mop that up

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Jon Stainsby

Wed 5th Dec 2018 07:54

Well said, Po

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