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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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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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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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It is better to be a beggar than ignorant; for a beggar only wants money, but an ignorant person wants humanity.
quote by Aristippus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Conscience Speaks...
a beggar arrives home today
bringing her story
and she talks and talks
and convinces me that
she deserves to be
given food and money...
an intelligent beggar
with wits and wiles, and she wins
i am parting with
some charities
that only God can pay...
well and good,
that is what this feeling says
this conscience is not
dead
after all....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Jolly Beggar II
THERE was a jolly beggar, and a begging he was bound,
And he took up his quarters into a landart town.
Fa la la, etc.
He wad neither ly in barn, nor yet wad he in byre,
But in ahint the ha-door, or else afore the fire.
The beggar’s bed was made at een wi good clean straw and hay,
And in ahint the ha-door, and there the beggar lay.
raise the goodman’s dochter, and for to bar the door,
And there she saw the beggar standin i the floor.
He took the lassie in his arms and to the bed he ran,
‘O hooly, hooly wi me, sir! ye’ll waken our goodman.’
The beggar was a cunnin loon, and neer a word he spake
Until he got his turn done, syne he began to crack.
‘Is there ony dogs into this town? maiden, tell me true.’
‘And what wad ye do wi them, my hinny and my dow?’
‘They’ll rive a’ my mealpocks, and do me meikle wrang.’
‘O dool for the doing o’t! are ye the poor man?’
Then she took up the mealpocks and flang them oer the wa:
‘The d--l gae wi the mealpocks, my maidenhead and a’!
‘I took ye for some gentleman, at least the Larid of Brodie;
O dool for the doing o’t! are ye the poor bodie?’
took the lassie in his arms and gae her kisses three,
And four-and-twenty hunder merk to pay the nurice-fee.
He took a horn frae his side and blew baith loud and shrill,
And four-and-twenty belted knights came skipping oer the hill.
And he took out his little knife, loot a’ his duddies fa,
And he was the brawest gentleman that was amang them a’.
The beggar was a cliver loon and he lap shoulder height:
‘O ay for sicken quarters as I gat yesternight!’
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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A Beggar With Choice
Perturbed as they gazed whereas
Others peeped
Multitudes reconvened
Indescribably blown off
Off, by what they beseeched
Terrible in peril others talked
Onlookers vividly terrified
Bystanders stranded in thoughts
A beggar with choice I thought of
Surely, a beggar with choice
they had come across
poem by Prince Kenny Osei
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. John (Chapter 9)
Jesus saw a man, blind since birth;
His disciples asked Him, ‘Rabbi,
By whose sins was the man born blind-
His own sins or that of parents’? ’
So, Jesus answered them, ‘Neither.
It is so that the works of God
Be manifested through the man.
The day is meant for all to work;
The night is for slumber and rest.’
‘While in this world, I am the light.’
Then Jesus spat on ground near-by
And mixed the clay with saliva;
He smeared the clay over man’s eyes
And said, ’ Go wash in Siloam Pool! ’
The man did so and got vision.
The beggar was able to see!
The neighbors saw and then remarked,
‘Isn’t this the beggar who was blind? ’
The beggar replied, ‘Yes, I am! ’
They asked, ‘How were your eyes opened? ’
The man described the whole story.
They asked him, ‘Where is Jesus now?
The beggar said, ‘I do not know.’
They brought the man to Pharisees;
Now Jesus did the miracle,
On Sabbath day and all knew that.
The Pharisees queried the man;
They said, ‘This man is not from God!
He does not keep the Sabbath-day.
How can a sinful man do signs?
They asked the beggar’s opinion;
He told them, ‘He is a prophet! ’
The Jews summoned his parents then
And enquired about their son;
His parents said, ‘He was born blind.’
But they didn’t know how he saw then.
They neither knew the healer’s name;
They told them to ask the beggar.
His parents were afraid of Jews;
If anyone believed Jesus,
And acknowledged Him, Messiah,
They were expelled from synagogue.
They called the beggar once again,
And asked him to give praise to God,
For, Jesus was a sinner great!
The man replied, ‘I do not know
If Jesus is a sinner great;
One thing was true that I was blind
And Jesus helped to make me see, ’
They asked him for more details then;
The beggar lost his cool and said,
‘Do you wish to be disciples? ’
They ridiculed the beggar-man
And said, ‘We are Moses’ disciples!
We don’t know where Jesus is from? ’
The man answered them quite bravely,
‘Isn’t it amazing that although,
You do not know who Jesus is,
Yet, He had made me to see then? ’
‘God does not listen to sinners;
If one’s devout, God listens then.
So far no one had given sight
To man who was blind, since his birth.’
‘If Jesus did not come from God,
He wouldn’t do miracles like this.’
They told the man, ‘You’re born in sin;
So, do not try to preach to us.
They drove the beggar-man away!
Then Jesus heard of incident;
He found the beggar-man and asked,
‘Do you believe in Son of Man? ’
He queried, ‘Who is he, tell me
So that, I may believe in Him.’
Then Jesus said, ‘You have seen Him;
The one speaking to you is He! ’
The man believed and worshipped Him.
Then Jesus said, ‘I came in here,
Into this world for judgment just,
And make ones who couldn’t see, to see,
And those who see become so blind.’
Some Pharisees who heard him said,
‘Surely we’re blind, are we not then? ’
Jesus told them, ‘If you were blind,
You wouldn’t have sins, but as you see,
Your sin remains and you are blind! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-23-2007
poem by John Celes
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The Great Day
Hurrah for revolution and more cannon-shot!
A beggar upon horseback lashes a beggar on foot.
Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again!
The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The seer and the beggar.
Ego battered, bereaved of kith and kin,
Bereft of worldly things, a beggar dies
With no wish, no curse and no regrets;
That amounts to detachment of the world.
Ego nursed, blessed with devotees,
Proud of being humble, can a seer die
With no wish, no curse and no regrets,
To confirm to detachment of the world?
More than the seer, it is the beggar
Who is fit to dispense with rebirth.
Can you follow the path of the beggar?
Is there salvation sans humiliation?
A seer is proud he leads you to God.
You are proud you follow him to God.
You both want to leave your names behind.
With the love for the world after your exit,
Can you hope that you avoid rebirth?
26.03.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Don't bother the beggar's son and the beggar's son won't bother you.