Poetry

God of Sundown by Mark Tulin/the Pedestrian Press –

I enjoyed being featured in this artsy, gritty, and a bit noir. The Pedestrian Press.
— Read on www.thepedestrianpress.com/

God at Sundown

              by Mark Tulin

 

There is no god at sundown,

no savior who’s gonna

fix the holes in my boots

and cook me something to eat

No voice that echos in the soul

on my lonely walks at night

under bridges full of litter

and streets that smell of piss

 

There is no true god

that bides his time in honesty,

that welcomes a hungry straggler,

heals the body’s burns and bruises,

and champions the weak and lost,

and those who seek comfort

from the blustery winds and fire

 

There will be no greeting

once I get to heaven,

but more of the same filth and shame,

bubblegum stuck to cement,

broken parking meters, abandoned buildings,

cowboys with busted spirits

and horses laboring from the heat.

Author, poet, short story writer from Santa Barbara, California. I write about a variety of topics, from my early childhood in Philadelphia, to my years as a family therapist, and finally to my soul-searching present in California. These are narratives that may have a humorous or serious content or both. Either way, I hope my poetry and stories resonate with you.

10 comments on “God of Sundown by Mark Tulin/the Pedestrian Press –

  1. I mean no offense to the city, but that is how I feel when I am in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Sorry to the the folks who love that area, but it kills my soul.

  2. Love that final stanza!

  3. Your poem is definitely gritty. Powerful.

  4. mauricecorlett

    A nice poem, Mark. Atmospheric of the poet’s angst in the downtown of a city. But I hope that you get a greeting on
    ce you get to heaven.

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