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Least said soonest mended
Least said soonest mended
I am condemned to wonder why
I cannot make an apt reply.
When someone has insulted me.
I find I can quite easily
but only when it is too late
Why can’t I just retaliate?
when someone has insulted me.
At the time immediately.
Perhaps I’m taken by surprise
perhaps because I am too wise.
When someone has insulted me
to take the insult seriously.
Though I must say in self defence
I am not quick to take offence
when some one has insulted me
I hold on to my dignity.
I will not be an easy mark
to be hurt by some chance remark.
Perhaps they weren’t insulting me
but merely meant to disagree
I simply smile and let it go
I do not really want to know.
If they were insulting me.
It hasn’t worked as they can see.
20-Aug-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Insulted
Insulted?
Not!
No longer am I.
I stuck focused,
With determination.
My heart would not abandoned...
A desire craved,
Within me gnawed.
And tight jawed I stayed,
On a path others said...
I was delusional and crazed.
But no delusion were the gifts,
To me The Almighty,
From birth to me gave!
Insulted?
Not!
No longer am I.
And...
At least I tried,
Not to show it!
And today with a growth,
I've been blessed to display.
I could care less who insulted me.
Whether or not,
It is known I know it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Spaewife
OH, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry.
An’ siller, that ’s sae braw to keep, is brawer still to gi’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Hoo a’things come to be whaur we find them when we try,
The lasses in their claes an’ the fishes in the sea.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why lads are a’ to sell an’lasses a’ to buy;
An’ naebody for dacency but barely twa or three.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Gin death’s as shure to men as killin’ is to kye,
Why God has filled the yearth sae fu’ o’ tasty things to pree.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
The reason o’ the cause an’ the wherefore o’ the why,
Wi’ mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Beggar To Beggar Cried
'TIME to put off the world and go somewhere
And find my health again in the sea air,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And make my soul before my pate is bare.-
'And get a comfortable wife and house
To rid me of the devil in my shoes,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And the worse devil that is between my thighs.'
And though I'd marry with a comely lass,
She need not be too comely -- let it pass,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'But there's a devil in a looking-glass.'
'Nor should she be too rich, because the rich
Are driven by wealth as beggars by the itch,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And cannot have a humorous happy speech.'
'And there I'll grow respected at my ease,
And hear amid the garden's nightly peace.'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'The wind-blown clamour of the barnacle-geese.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Being a star has made it possible for me to get insulted in places where the average Negro could never hope to go and get insulted.
quote by Sammy Davis, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be not a beggar
Avoid seeking aids
Unless in bare needs;
Avoid getting helps
Unless in dire needs.
Provide in equals
To those aids and helps.
You should not afford
To be a beggar.
Offer help and aids
That must not be baits;
Offer gifts and kinds
That should not be a debt.
Your pay out should not be
Less than your receipts.
You cannot afford to be a beggar,
You be not greedy
Which makes you ugly.
Then you aren’t shut
Doors by the dear ones.
You may remain poor
But not a beggar.
Being a beggar
Is worse than a slave.
18 09,2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Better Be a Beggar
A beggar is not a robber.
He’s not a swindler or a hoarder.
He is as he could not be they.
Being a beggar is not a shame.
(10.04.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beggar is better
A dependant is worse than a beggar,
Though both of them don’t get self respects,
In that he, unlike the beggar, would get
Humiliations from his known people.
01.12.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A beggar will always be a beggar even if they give him the whole world as a gift.
The beggar that begs near another beggar will never be rich.
Night's still awake with flexible souls
At the daybreak a drunkard whispers to a beggar's ear
Who's fast asleep on the concrete bed!
'Sorry for the inconvenience brother!
Short of few coins and I want to go back home
As I lost my way last night and slept in a strange place.'
The kind beggar gave him a brand new dollar note
with a big yawn and he's surprised.
He jumped to the first bus and gone.
Now the beggar remembers the friend
Once offered him a drink and he's worried
That he should have given him more.
* A Diamond is a chunk of coal that made good under pressure.
-Anonymous
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Unaccustomed to Having An Identity
Have you ever been in a situation,
In which you insulted others...
When you had a preference,
To begin to use your own given name?
And others became offended by that?
Others became offended...
Because you announced a clarity of your identity.
AND...
This offended?
AND...
You then became so proud of who you were,
Your entire presence began to threaten?
Especially those unaccustomed to having an identity!
The ones from birth until death,
Are only known by their nicknames.
And they are related to people who will never know,
Their real names.
Ever!
Have you ever been in a situation,
In which you insulted others...
When you had a preference,
To begin to use your own given name?
And the next thing they want you to do,
Is to get 'right' with God.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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All in mind
Insult and insulted
It is all in the mind.
The consequences of the actions
And its reactions and the intentions
Behind be taken in to account
And so many things it contain behind.
Make yourself pure and perfect
Honour follows spontaneously
Anything can be sacrificed then only.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Beggar
The thought of great social solitude,
The sight of everyone having an attitude,
Being the neglected in the maltittude,
The pity viewed in verisimilitude,
The life of a beggar
His clothes torn and stomarch empty,
Always dancing to their tune,
Exploited and greatly tortured,
His presence mean nothing to them,
Their presence mean everything to him
He walks door to door for livelihood,
They dont walk to him to give life,
He is seeking life everyday,
Yet life does not seek him even one day
The beggar with rolling tears
Life like that of a beggar,
Love like that of a life,
Begging for the conditional love,
Do I have to beg your love?
Like the beggar beg for life,
My determinism flashes through,
Im breaking the steel bars my love,
Loosening the metalic chains off,
Love is love, not to be begged for,
Love is love, not to use each other,
Love is love, no need for persuation,
For so long it is love,
I will never be begging anymore,
Such love will be deceit,
Such truth will be fake,
And such commitment will be futile
Such a lover will be like a beggar,
Such a beloved will be like a lifegiver,
And such their love will be a shame
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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What to say when you are hurt
Do they hurt you today?
In your mind? In your heart?
What is the color of this blood
Flowing from your mind
This bleeding heart
Because they hurt you again
She slapped you he kicked you
And they insulted you
You knelt for mercy
They laughed and they left
You alone in your pains
Do not clench your hands to
Form these fists
Do not let your heart be
Conquered by anger
Do not let your mind be poisoned
By the thoughts of revenge
What did God tell you when you are hurt?
Forgive them for they do not know
What they are doing.
Do you remember that? Do you understand that?
Now you must stand and be counted.
You have the name, you are God’s child.
You have something again to tell him
Why not? Now rest your head on his arms.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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100
When he was insulted, he returned no insult
some questions i will ask for you today,
did you show your left cheek when your right was slapped?
did you walk another extra mile when you were ordered to
walk the required mile?
did you take his eye because your eye was taken away?
did you take his teeth because your teeth were removed by him?
did you insult him because he insulted you?
did you fight him because he started the fight himself?
did he oppress you and you remained silent?
did he steal from you and you tell the police that you freely gave the
stolen thing from you to him?
please answer me.
Did it now occur to you that it is hard to be a christian?
please answer me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A homework
We were told to draw a portrait at our choice
but we were send only words.
The beggar was still there, near the apple-tree in blossom,
punished to count stars or to assist the leaves' death.
I refused my tears and began my homework.
The light was for all and for free,
the beggar was thought the fear's pride.
I took the words and have drawn this poem at my choice.
The apple-tree smiled to the beggar
in this light for all and for free
poem by Clava Ghirca
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Running To Paradise
As I came over Windy Gap
They threw a halfpenny into my cap.
For I am running to paradise;
And all that I need do is to wish
And somebody puts his hand in the dish
To throw me a bit of salted fish:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
My brother Mourteen is worn out
With skelping his big brawling lout,
And I am running to paradise;
A poor life, do what he can,
And though he keep a dog and a gun,
A serving-maid and a serving-man:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
Poor men have grown to be rich men,
And rich men grown to be poor again,
And I am running to paradise;
And many a darling wit's grown dull
That tossed a bare heel when at school,
Now it has filled a old sock full:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
The wind is old and still at play
While I must hurty upon my way.
For I am running to paradise;
Yet never have I lit on a friend
To take my fancy like the wind
That nobody can buy or bind:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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