Grandstand Joe sits atop the stairs
Observes all that lies below him.
The early morning sun pokes its way towards him
He winces as he stares east
Grateful he has survived another night.
He watches the walkers and joggers move past him
Some glance up, most ignore him
He doesn’t care, he’s alive, he has routines.
Gathering his possessions
He’s off to the servo
They let him use the toilets there.
He checks the bins on the way
There’s good pickings outside the chicken shop.
He sits at the bus stop
Not wanting to go anywhere
But to watch the world go by.
There’s a crust in his bag from yesterday,
He chews on it as the workers all depart.
His speech is stilted as he rarely speaks
The lady at the op shop knows him, knows his size
Knows he’ll be in come the first winter breeze.
She knows only his first name
Not his story or where he’s from
He’s just a man, down on his luck.
‘Who am I to judge,’ she thinks.
‘There but for the grace of God go I.’
Written for: http://dversepoets.com/2016/02/23/poetics-listen-to-the-mockingbird/
Morpethroad 
Ohhhhh. I want to buy Joe a cup of coffee, and find out more about him.
I love this.
Thank you De, I used a real guy I see most mornings as my subject…..I’m sure he’d be flattered to know he became the subject of a piece of writing…
I thought he might be real. Everybody has a story. So important to remember that.
Oh I often wonder what this mans must be. He seems content living as he does.
This is beautiful 🙂 I m glad that his story inspired you to pen it down.
Lots of love,
Sanaa
Thank you Sanaa, you are very kind.
So wonderful that a real person inspired this poem. Very nice!
Hi Joy, thank you for your lovely comment.
My pleasure!
“There but for the grace of God . . .” It applies to a lot of us.
Yes indeed Cathy…thanks for stopping by.
I live in an area with one of the largest homeless populations in the country and have a special affinity for their plight. Seeing them up close, which I have, and you have on your morning outings, their humanness is visceral; they are no different from us in most cases, except bad luck. Lovely tribute to Joe, Michael.
Thank you Mandy, I appreciate you taking the time to stop by. These people are a sad part of our lives aren’t they.
Oh, this tugged at my heart… Spending time with my very old friend who has no one else to help care for her has made me see how many are out there that could fit into the category of “there but for the grace of God”…. You wrote this with heart and it shows.
Thank you Kelly, it could easily be any of us in that situation.
Wonderful story of Grandstand Joe–and sadly, there are so many near us. In Reno, I live near the Truckee river. Not far away, there’s an overpass, under which you will see, high about the river-walk, set-ups such as Joe’s. It breaks my heart, especially when the weather is below freezing.
Thanks Victoria it seems they are to be found in every city around the world. Thanks for your comment.
I used to work with homeless men. As you say all had a story. And as you have done, all deserved to be treated with dignity and respect. Several became surrogate grandfathers. They had their faults and flaws — humans too — but deserved to be dealt with fairly and kindness.
Your post puts a story to a name. That’s what is needed. If the increasing number of homeless are nameless, they are faceless, they are invisible. Then everyone can walk by and not care. We should care!
We should indeed as it could be us next week, one never knows….thanks for your excellent comment.
This is such a story that could fit too many. Yet, we see them and hopefully greet them. I like how you describe him from the pint of simple routines, like an endless story repeating….
Thanks Bjorn, so often their lives are all routine, it’s how many get through the day.
“His speech is stilted as he rarely speaks….” living alone with almost no one to talk to…
watching the world go by. In a way, he lives richly.
Yes I think you are right. Thanks Kathy for stopping by.
I love that he sits at the bus stop to watch the world go by. That’s marvellous.
Thanks Misky I appreciate you stopping by…
I always think a good poem is one you won’t forget, and i won’t forget Grandstand Joe (someone’s grand-dad Joe?). technically flows well with good meter and well-placed occasional internal rhyme. Enjoyed it.
Thank you Shirley I appreciate your comment very much. He may be someone’s grandfather but I don’t know.
Just this morning that phrase, “There but for the grace of God go I.” Then here I find it at the end of this excellent portrait of a thankful man down on his luck. Peace, Linda
Thanks Linda, we all have much to be thankful for…
it was a Grandstand Jane for me. When our local diner that was her morning haunt was forced to close, the family that owned it made arrangements with another diner a few blocks away. I went out of my way to go by that diner some mornings to check on her. She often quoted “but for the grace of God go I” herself.
All have a story and you told this one well.
Yes I imagine there are plenty of Grandstand Jane’s out there……thanks for sharing your story and for stopping by my blog….
Moved by your depiction. I know a “Joe” as well!
Thank you Walt, I think there’s one in most places…
Sadly we all know this man — he is on our streets. Very very well done.
Thank you Lillian you are right they are in every town. Enjoy your weekend.
So many people like this in the Bay Area I often wonder about their stories. Well told!
Thank you Bekkie, yes they are everywhere a sad part of every society…
I hope we figure this thing out soon, a way to help everyone who needs it. Breaks my heart.
A panhandler tonight in Winn
Dixie.. tattered clothes. a place
out of the cold he
wanders..
middle class
CASHIER
preppies get
scared.. call the
police.. three cops
to tale panhandler
never wanna
see you
in here
again..
Jesus laughs
on his way out…
and gives the Panhandler
another ride to heaven FREE..:)