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The Humbling / Parable of 'Kentucky Lucky
There once was a man,
Come from Kentucky.
He was the luckiest
Of the lucky.
He was better,
He was best.
He claimed to be higher
Than all the rest.
His favorite pastime
Was revelling in everything
He thought he knew.
Little did he relize,
He was about to recieve his due.
Nothing could happen to him!
He was The Elite.
But as he walked along,
He met a beggar in the street.
Said the beggar,
'A shekel, for a worthy cause? '
But Pride strutted by,
Without a pause.
Pride was a long way off,
When suddenly,
He ground to a stop.
For there stood the beggar,
Draped with downy wings,
And clad in robes of pure white!
Said foolish Pride,
'You are an angel,
And yet you asked of me,
A shekel? '
Then the angel replied,
'For a shekel, I did ask.
Just one little shekel,
'Twas all.'
'But you think it too humble a task.'
'Forget it!
A shekel, I do not need.'
'My Lord and God provides me all.'
As the angel turned to take leave,
Pride soon began to greive.
'Wait! ' cried Pride,
'Don't leave! '
'Come! '
'Eat! '
'Look! '
'I give you my all! '
Said the angel,
'Had you known
Who I really was
When I was poor,
You would not have turned me
From your door.'
'But - But, I! '...
Tried to reason Pride.
'Excuses', said the angel,
'Will not do you well,
Nor shall it justify your sin.'
'Now! , Look not upon earthly things,
But store up for yourslf teasures in Heaven.
'You can do this by serving God,
And not just looking out for yourself,
But by concerning yourself in the interests
of others.'
'But, Pride,
One thing you should remember above all' -
'Is that pride comes, before a fall.'
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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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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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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Beggar is close to God
Begging for something is a cut
That is made at the root of your ego.
Begging for food is the deepest cut.
A monk goes begging for food,
Where he feels pride, not humiliation.
A beggar knocks the door for food,
Cursing his fate, tasting the humiliation.
Ego is active in monk, dead in beggar.
Who will get quick salvation?
04.11.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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It is a beggar's pride that he is not a thief.
There is no pride like that of a beggar grown rich.
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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I Was
when i silent
i was the wise queen
when i talk too much
i was the princess of the pride-ego
when i smile
i was the goddess
when i am angry
i was the savage
when i am alone
i was the thinker
when i'm praying
i was the beggar
Copyright © 2012
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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Beginning of destruction
pride it’s all your fault
Pride it’s all your fault we in this mess
Pride it’s all your fault we are suffering
Pride it’s all your fault people are shedding blood
Pride it’s all your fault families are destroyed
Pride it’s all your fault people are so greedy and selfish
Pride it’s all your fault people have no love
Pride it’s all your fault are so jealous of each other
Pride it’s all your fault people are so lost
Pride it’s all your fault dying from this horrible diseases
Pride it’s all your fault we have so many orphans
Pride it’s all your fault people are betraying each other
Pride it’s all your fault are dying of hunger
Pride it’s all your fault fathers are sleeping with their children
Pride it’s all your fault people are so heartless
Pride it’s all your fault there is no peace, unity and harmony in this world
Pride it’s all your fault we have all this sorrow
Pride it’s all your fault God has rejected us
Pride it’s all your fault people are so evil
And they have decided to be in love with evil rather than good
You have ruined this world
You are to blame for all this misery
If lucifer did not have pride in his heart we wouldn’t be in this mess
Pride it all your fault! ! !
Vangile Mtyali
poem by Vangile Mtyali
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My Ability To Climb Out Of Ditches
Everyday it may be easy for you,
To use your inheritance...
As a vehicle to compare,
How you were able to pull your bootstraps up...
From a place you declare had been nowhere.
When I have survived with nothing left to spare.
My ancestors did not leave me an inheritance.
And my ability to climb out of ditches,
Did not begin with my pocket full of riches.
And for you to think with others to believe,
Your quality of life has been earned as received...
Is a delusion you fantasize that has become your reality.
I've been enriched with the knowing...
No Pain, No Gain.
You've been enriched with a knowing,
Of a painless existence.
And even if you experienced a little of it...
I could never seriously regard you as a competitor.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lion's Pride
The Lion, He sits upon the mountain.
Watching over the pride, which is His joy.
Emotionless.
He shows no fear.
With Him, a calmness and peace.
He struts with confidence.
As he approaches the pride,
No one will challenge Him.
He is Alpha.
The true leader.
Both Trusting and trusted.
When confronted, it is not His pride He protects.
To protect His pride is foolish.
He knows He is Alpha
It is the pride,
The pride is for Him to sacrifice for.
The Lioness respects him
He is the head of the pride.
He loves Her and for the pride would lay down His life.
It is His cross to bear.
For it was the role, He was born to play.
As the Lion leads the pride,
A man should lead His pride & joy.
Whatever pride He protects,
Determines if He is Alpha.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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