Homeless Man Story

As Greg blew into his saxophone, the sad song wafted out into the auditorium. He began to remember his past, his parents dying, him becoming homeless and finding a saxophone on the street and learning how to play it without no help, people throwing money in the bucket when Greg’s playing the saxophone. Thanking the man who heard him playing the instrument on the street and made him an artist, and making him the man he is today, the life he never expected. Going through all the incidents he went through his life, the bad times of him sleeping on the streets, no food, begging on the streets playing the saxophone. Greg is 45 today, it is Greg’s last concert and his birthday, he is dressed up in a black suit with a red tie, his bald head shining

On page 11 his boss says, “what’s the matter? You barricade yourself in your room, answer only ‘yes’ and ‘no,’ cause your parents serious, unnecessary worry, and you neglect – I mention this only in passing – your duties to the firm in a really shocking manner.” Showing us what his life consists of every day even when he is in a serious ill condition. His boss tells him that he is causing his parents

He turned to the streets, begging for scraps of food or clothing, trying to find some way to support himself. Those years of his life had seemed like a dark abyss in which he was trapped. He could see the sunlight above, but he had no way to reach it. He still remembered the looks of disgust and fear upon people’s faces as he crawled to them and begged for help. They would pull their children closer and cross the street as they neared him, or walk straight past him with their eyes fixed ahead, unfazed by his pleas. After some time, he lost hope. As the rich merchants and fine clothed women passed, he said nothing, curled up in a ball on filthy, tattered blankets, starved and cold, flea bitten and depressed. He had feared for a time that he was on the brink of insanity, and had taken to talking to the stones on the street to while away the lonely hours. He remembered hoping he would simply pass in his sleep during the night to escape his never-ending

Taking another deep breath to help calm his nerves, John folded the letter and sealed it with some sticky tape. With his hands trembling he handed over his most private thoughts to Josie. After they had exchanged letters they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. Once John got outside he looked up to the hazy sky and let out a shaky laugh full of relief. Maybe just maybe Josie would be the one to save him before it was too late. He hoped that she would open the letter before graduation and help him put back together the shattered pieces of his life. Because deep down that broken boy wanted to live more than anything in the

One day, in Miami there was a homeless man looking for change on the ground. Some kind man named Tyler saw him and went over to talk to him , Tyler started a conversation with him and got to know him and his story. Tyler learned that he was a veteran of the United States Marine Cor. he had came home from deployment and lost contact with his family and now can’t find a job. He’s been homeless for two years and eight months now and can’t find any help. He lost contact with family and has tried everything he could to find them. Tyler decided to give the man all the cash he had on him. Then, took him to the store and bought him a pay phone to stay in touch. The homeless mans name was Rob and his hometown was Collins, Ga. With the money Tyler gave

The sun was beating down on Timothy’s neck, walking hand in hand with his younger brother walker and a stranger. Tim’s eyes stung from bawling the night before and his body was bruised from being roughed up by the mysterious man. One second enjoying the sights of Austin, Texas, the next being shoved into a back of a car and taken away. It’d been almost a day since he’d seen his parents and neither him nor his brother knew where where

As a kid I had always lived in well diversified areas. I didn't care who you were or what you looked like, I was raised to treat everyone the same. I wasn't personally exposed to the idea of inequality until I was in middle school. I had always imagined that everyone just had jobs and lived their daily lives. I didn't quite grasp the extent of the idea that people can die, be homeless, be criminals, or racists. I also didn't grasp how great the people of our society can be. That was until my parents told me about the first times they had in America coming from Mexico. I don't remember what I said or did to provoke these stories, but they were surely eye opening.

However, nearing the end of my stay in Myanmar, while serving food at an orphanage, I had one of the most inspirational conversations I have ever had in my life. When I had finished my task, I was given the opportunity to interview a homeless man. His parents abandoned him at the age of 4, and he was forced to live at a nearby orphanage. When he had reached the age of 16, he left the orphanage due to the abusive caretakers. He spent the next 5 years living as a wandering nomad. He was living and finding food wherever he could.

As I walk down the streets of my city on a warm summer morning, I see a variety of people. Every step I take I see a different person and with each person comes a different story. During my walk, I see a group of kids younger than me smoking on the corner. I couple minutes later I see a mother and her child sitting on a bench in the park. Both the mother and child have bruises on them. Finally, just before reaching my destination, I see a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk and he is asking others for money so that he can buy some food. I walk into my house and sit down on my sofa and as I am sitting there, all I can think of were the different people I saw on my walk. What are their stories? Why are those kids smoking? Why are that woman and child covered in bruises? What happened in that poor man's life? How did he hit rock bottom?

A young man, no older than fifteen, living in a quiet suburban neighborhood has just been broken heartbreaking news: his father has died. Coupled with grief and the new found stress and pressures of losing the sole economic provider for his small family unit, his mother takes on the economic burdens of the family. Not but two years later, tragedy struck this already broken household, the mother has been diagnosed with AIDS; she passes within the year. With no family left to turn to and with depression, anxiety, and desperation plaguing his every thought, the young man has no choice but to turn to the streets to seek comfort. At the tender age of seventeen he was without a home, without a family, and without a dollar to his name. He roams the

What thoughts have I tonight as I walk emptied handed and no one to be arm in arm with as I navigate the LA streets. I envy the young man wiping out on his skateboard. Look at the concern on the young woman’s eyes. She looks on with a frown. Still, he makes her laugh with his imitation of the Zombie’s walk. How much happiness is contained in the rivulets of his blood that hardens along the shin of his wounded kneecap?

Once upon a time there was a wizard that disguised himself as a homeless man. After he disguised himself, he would beg from house to house, and lied to each house saying that he needed money or food. Inside every house he went to there was beautiful girls. He would capture every single one of the girls, and take them away somewhere that no one knew, even none of the girls ever returned. One day, he came to the door of the man who everyone knew had three gorgeous daughters. Before he went to knock on the door, he made sure he looked truly poor, weaker, and he also carried magical pack basket on his back as it looked like he wanted to collect some kindhearted offerings in it.

It was a bright and sunny day in Downtown Iowa City. I limped my sore, broken down body between the alleys, craving the shade of buildings to get some time out of the beating hot sun. I can sense the wondering eyes of many people immediately lock into mine as I walk onto the busy sidewalk. I get paranoid and overwhelmed thinking of everything people could potentially be thinking about me. I have never been the type to care of what others think of me. That is only until I made my ways to becoming homeless. ¨You are just a druggie who can’t keep a job,¨ many have shouted at me. Funny thing is they don’t know is why I am even here in the first place. I ran away when I was 16. My Dad abused my Mom, two little sisters and Me. I’ve been

My friends often describe me as a cynic and a pessimist. For the most part, they're right. Sentiment loses value when it permeates one's attitudes and behavior just as the value of a commodity decreases as it becomes ubiquitous, so as a rule I reserve expressing sentiment for rare occasions that I deem worthy. Fortunately, even the harshest cynics are surprised sometimes.

I hear them get closer and closer as the porch creaks every step to the door. My heart feels like its pounding through my chest, and sweat is pouring off my face as I sprint in a panic. I hear the key turning and the door opening just as I jump out the window.