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The Old Miser and his 3rd Wife
1
The Old Miser
my husband is dying
and he makes me promise
I must put all his money in his coffin
when he dies
“O my legal third wife
the only one surviving -
you must put all my money
secretly in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring away all the money
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
2
Now, he’s dead
and I’ve arranged for his funeral
and while everyone’s busy
with all these preparations
I dutifully take all his money
from the hiding place
which he whispered to me
with his last breath
and he bit my ear and he snarled:
“Put all my money
in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
3
So I take all his money
and bring it to the bank
and deposit it in my name
and make a cheque out for 10 million
and put the cheque below his head
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you can take all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
poem by Raj Arumugam
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For Years/ A Miser Of Every Minute
FOR YEARS/ A MISER OF EVERY MINUTE
For years
A miser of every minute
For my work.
And now near old age
I understand
All that time given to works
Never to be read,
And so
A seeming tranquility.
If all my time wasted
Why be a miser
Any longer?
And yet,
What have I done?
Can I somehow still
Do something?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Oh, I wish I were a miser; being a miser must be so occupying.
quote by Gertrude Stein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The miser does not own the gold, it is the gold that owns the miser.
While the miser is merely a capitalist gone mad, the capitalist is a rational miser.
The Crying From Misery
The miser has concussion when sick,
It is unholy and right if you end;
It contains blessings, the world,
When holiness has defeated;
We are holy, and they are so unholy,
The miser has concussion when sick
Too sick he is that it matters.
The misery of babies is like angelic crying,
You have divine nature when child
And lose when miserable more,
Like an angel it is, then adults shall change,
When babies were also them, also them.
The misery of babies is like angelic crying.
The miser has concussion when sick,
The misery of babies is like angelic crying.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Love
Lust for power and more power
Is your mask with a power monger
You may think then to annihilate
The weak for the conquest ultimate
Of your devotee- the power monger.
Money and miser in this pair
Of greed you become embodiment
You are a quantity for a miser
Of money and it's aggrandizement
For which he crosses all extents.
Lover and beloved in this pair
You mask adroitly carnel desires
Infatuation & longing on separation.
A mastery you show in presentation
In celestial form human relations.
poem by Ratnakar Mandlik
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Obligation
My heart is going on,
And I do not want to delay long.
I shall have to sing too many life-songs.
Sometimes I think, a misty morning
Full of sweet longing,
Would dispel all the day's sorrow;
And I may reach the crest of the world tomorrow.
Sincerity is my strength, curiosity is my nature.
Oh! God, I know you are the sketcher, inventor and nominator........
Nobility is not a friend of miser.
So, I have to sing a lot of song;
And it is the duty of every young.
poem by Bibhakar Dutta
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Aaron Stark
Withal a meagre man was Aaron Stark, --
Cursed and unkempt, shrewd, shrivelled, and morose.
A miser was he, with a miser's nose,
And eyes like little dollars in the dark.
His thin, pinched mouth was nothing but a mark;
And when he spoke there came like sullen blows
Through scattered fangs a few snarled words and close,
As if a cur were chary of its bark.
Glad for the murmur of his hard renown,
Year after year he shambled through the town, --
A loveless exile moving with a staff;
And oftentimes there crept into his ears
A sound of alien pity, touched with tears, --
And then (and only then) did Aaron laugh.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Sonnet
The worldly prince doth in his sceptre hold
A kind of heaven in his authorities;
The wealthy miser, in his mass of gold,
Makes to his soul a kind of Paradise;
The epicure that eats and drinks all day,
Accounts no heaven, but in his hellish routs;
And she, whose beauty seems a sunny day,
Makes up her heaven but in her baby's clouts.
But, my sweet God, I seek no prince's power,
No miser's wealth, nor beauty's fading gloss,
Which pamper sin, whose sweets are inward sour,
And sorry gains that breed the spirit's loss:
No, my dear Lord, let my Heaven only be
In my Love's service, but to live to thee.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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Full Of Life Questions
life is full of unexpected,
life is full of challenges,
life is full of bitterness,
life is full of strife,
life is full of contentious disputes,
life is full of revenge,
life is full of hatred,
life is full of mystery,
sometimes.....
life is full of sweetness,
life is full of joy,
life is full of happiness,
life is full of hope,
life is full of dreams,
you can have all this life when the soul is in body, and you will be able to feel everything because this is real life to creatures who call the''human''
Have you thought to life after death? ? ? ?
Miser man
He died as miser man
Collected wealth as much as possible
Cared for no poor or relatives
Put no value in his eyes for any kind of services
No one took notice of his death
Forgot even about laying the wreath
He had no one to be called his dear friend
He lived daily but only to be died at each moment
He left behind enormous fortune
No one could count it to correct tune
May be scattered all over unaccounted
Recovery of it was highly doubted
People live on simple food as forbidden by doctor
They have enough of everything but can't perform as an actor
They have limited mobility and nothing is of any use
Life becomes burden and adds more to confuse
Why not live life to full extent?
Why should there be left any corner to resent?
Why at all some one should be harmed for no cause?
Life can be over at any time making "was" from "is"
Some of us take little solace
Bear smile and move with nice face
Extend little help and boost more
They too can be called miser therefore
Not necessarily all must become donors
Not all must opt for or act as saviors
Only soft approach needed towards fellow man
Two kind words, if at all, to make him feel as human
Are we struggling for making only ends to meet?
Is it not possible to say hello to everybody and greet?
It needs no answer from any one but simple recognition
Our emotions are highly volatile in nature and burst from simple ignition
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The miser is as much in want of what he has as of what he has not.
quote by Publilius Syrus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whose Country Is This?
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of snakes;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of many waters;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of thieves! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of oil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of earthquakes!
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of lovers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of volcanoes!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful flowers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hansome men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of roses;
Whose country is this?
it is a land ruled only by men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land without rainfall;
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by a woman;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of corruption!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pirates! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by law;
Whose country is this?
It is a land controlled by rebels!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ice;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of singers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of troubles;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of war! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land with the biggest cemetery in the wolrd!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of desert;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of trees;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant teenagers!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of timber;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hatred;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of love;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of care;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of peace;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of smokers!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of businesses;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of harlots;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of wise people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of idiots!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of gold;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of cocoa;
Whose country is this?
It is a alnd full of crabs;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of evil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of rainfalls;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ants;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of horses;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pigs;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of statues;
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of birds;
And so on, and so forth!
Because nature had made them so as we see them around us,
But the wise and fool live together on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Compulsive Obsession
The miser sits and counts his gold
well wrapped in rags against the cold.
He has no fire he lacks the sense
He cannot bear to spend his pence.
He dines upon stale bread and cheese
sometimes porridge made from peas
to satisfy his appetite.
His bags of coin his one delight.
He has no friends he trusts no man
for they will rob him if they can.
He lives in abject poverty
to spend a coin is misery.
I do not envy him his gold
a bitter man who’s heart is cold.
I share what little comes my way
I cannot make my few pence stay.
But count my self a wealthy man
The miser save all that he can
and lives alone in misery.
I think that he should envy me.
8-Jun-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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