old men
in yesterday’s hats
don’t fit
goodwill suits
too big
in the shoulders
sit in the park
arms folded
one dozing
head bent
stubble beard
turned to
the sun
the other
looks down
as if thinking
of yesterday
it is
with little
conversation
they sit
one waiting
for godot
one
waiting for
silence
they swap
hats
realize
they will
be here
tomorrow
or not.
Be Not Inhospitable to Strangers 
amazing. Simply amazing. Beautiful poem, this one. One waiting for godot, one waiting for silence. Silence being an eternal godot itself. Superb writing…
Lovely writing, does what all poems should do, illuminate. The penultimate stanza is excellent and skilfully broken.
That’s a lovely poem, if a little sad, i thought it could be you and me, or beckett and bukowhiskey,
Sumedh
Thanks for the comment!
Jo
thanks Jo
Paul
haha–hadn’t thought of that–either way
I was reading along, enjoying the photograph you created with words, and BAM! the last stanza! Fantastic. Such sentimentin so few words. I will never view those guys in my city the same way again.
I think Beckett himself would like this. Very skillful…
Bob
Thanks Bob
Thanks Jillypoet for the kind comment
very visual, there’s a certain sadness in the whole poem too