I read a novel this weekend. The story took place in New York in the 1970s. The author described its neighborhoods and the homeless who wandered the streets, begging for pennies to survive. This is a common phenomenon, seen in cities all over the world.

What caught my attention here was the creative way one of the poor men had found to make money. He wasn’t just sitting on a street corner asking for handouts. Instead, he used his talent to earn a little cash. He wrote poems and charged half a dollar for each one. I can’t say whether this was based on a true story or if it was purely fiction, but it struck me as a very dignified way to make some money. After all, he wasn’t simply begging without offering anything in return. He provided a “product” that he sold for a small sum. In essence, he sold poetry.

Beyond being dignified, it also seemed ingenious. I had heard of various artists who, unable to make enough money from their art, would go out into the streets to sell their paintings or play music—either by performing with an instrument or singing. However, writing and selling poetry was something I had never encountered before.

It reminded me of a quote I once read:

The above person was using his talent to help other people who might be in need of a poem. He was also helping himself. He was earning a few pennies to survive in a cruel world. So, his journey in life had taught him how to do that.