Summary

The poem "The Poetry Man" depicts a neglected poet's struggle with societal indifference and his subsequent tragic end, while also providing resources for those contemplating suicide.

Abstract

"The Poetry Man" is a poignant piece that captures the life of a poet who feels alienated and unappreciated by society. He writes on the streets, where his work goes unnoticed, and he is met with disgust, scorn, and occasional pity. Despite his despair, he has a yearning to communicate through his writing, a desire left unfulfilled as his work is ignored. The poem concludes with a fictional depiction of the poet walking into traffic, symbolizing a tragic end to his struggle. The author ensures to emphasize that the poem is a work of fiction and underscores the message that suicide is not the answer, providing a suicide prevention hotline and an invitation for those in need to reach out for help.

Opinions

The poet is portrayed as a figure of isolation and despair, with society's indifference contributing to his sense of not belonging.
The city streets are personified, showing a stark contrast between the poet's stillness and the relentless pace of urban life.
The poem conveys a powerful message about the importance of mental health support and the impact of societal neglect on individuals.
The author's personal connection to the issue of suicide is revealed through the mention of their own loss, adding depth and sincerity to the call for seeking help.
The inclusion of a suicide prevention hotline and an open invitation to reach out on social media reflects the author's commitment to offering support and fostering a community for those struggling.

Poetry

The Poetry Man

A Poem

Trigger Warning: Suicide

“I write where I am”

lead scrawled into scabbed notepad

bent over, adorning sidewalk

where millions walked

Disgust for his appearance

scorn he wasn’t also forced to work

sometimes pity, not very often

was the flow of the city streets

Caring left his mortal cage long ago

he held no regard for their ridicule

he never belonged here

no soul would miss his resignation

The pavement under his hand

beneath him breathed

as the subway thundered below

speeding off to escapes unknown

He still had so much to say

to this world, these people

no one read his writing anymore

it never mattered when they did

Closing his notepad, he stood up and walked into the oncoming traffic.

This is a fictional poem. Suicide is never an answer. There is always someone to talk to - 24 hours a day. You are never alone. Just dial 988 from your phone. Don’t live in the US? No worries, the number for you is right in this link:

https://blog.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines/

And even though you and I don’t know each other face to face, please feel free to reach out to me on Instagram if you want to talk. I lost my 25 year old son David to suicide.

I am aloquin777

Join the Poetry Playground:

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Let the play begin!

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