Grant me the treasure of sublime poverty: permit the distinctive sign of our order to be that it does not possess anything of its own beneath the sun, for the glory of your name, and that it have no other patrimony than begging.
quote by Francis of Assisi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Poverty In The 21st Century
It’s the 21st century
The media displays it day and night,
Poverty.
Poverty across the globe lies
Poverty cries out from the belly of little boys
Little girls, parents too
Desperately searching for food,
Shelter, clothing, for love,
Companion, for attention
Those with plenty, refuse
To amend, a world haunted by
Poverty.
Is poverty affecting the rich?
Are their poverty the same
As the poor in financial constrains?
For they, too, poverty of love
I see poverty in the learned
I see poverty in those whose
Selfish acts are destroying society.
I see poverty in all level of humanity
The world is still an imperfect place
Yet life is still beautiful, the wind
Blows, we see it not, give thanks
For what you possess, now go,
Help if you can along the way,
Help to eradicate poverty
In your surrounding, widen
Your boundary across your
Country, to nations of the world.
Help to fight poverty, now!
poem by Winston Harding
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Sonnet: The Magic of Poverty
A birth in poverty is luck supreme!
A death in poverty, a great blessing;
A life of poverty is rare a dream;
Achievements great, stark poverty can bring.
’Tis poverty that goads nations do feats;
’Tis poverty that stimulates scientists;
In everything, poverty, wealth just beats;
The greatest men were in poverty’s lists.
And poverty lessens our worries much;
Account to God will be much easier;
Poverty gives the saint a divine touch;
In poverty, poets can fly higher!
Poverty helps to shun worldly pleasures;
A soul in poverty, Heaven allures.
9-14-2002
poem by John Celes
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Grant Us Peace, Father of Abraham, Isaac and Ishmael
Grant us peace,
that we may not oppress our neighbors
Grant us justice,
that we may not enslave our neighbors
Grant us sanity,
that we may not torture our neighbors
Grant us mercy,
that we may not murder our neighbors
Grant us conscience
that we may not expel our neighbors
Grant us love,
that we may hunger for truth
Grant us discernment
that we may know what is ours, and what is not
Grant us decency
that we may return what we stole
Grant us courage
that we may admit what we’ve done
Give us strength to atone.
Ask only
that we end our silence.
April, March! Soldiers Search for HUNGER MARCH - A1 Story
World has advanced in many days...
Yet in 21st Century poverty retains in umpteen ways;
Hunger glinted in his eyes...
He does begging and petty thievery, at the same time!
Cheeks were sunken and clothes were in rags but still, a crime!
Believe I swear in the name of god, my words are not lies.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
I saw a rag picker scrounging for a coin in the garbage,
Though he is with bare foot who knows as bub, he is cute!
Owing to the troubles he met, made him mute.
He can fill the rivers with poverty's tears...
His eyes were pale and mouth opened for food cabbage!
One among is he, pleading and begging the passersby yet nobody hears.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
The street is lighted with half naked
Bodies go begging down, the street and half fed,
From head to toe they're covered with poverty, yet
With pain and misery as their make-up set;
Hunger is present in their stomach and a rat's race!
And it is vaguely seen on their face and a food race.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Labourers in construction breaking the stones...
And lifting the bricks while scorching sun is the witness!
They work bodily, resembles awkward dance of a heap of bones,
The skin saturates and swallows the heat, I bet!
Leaving it dark as the midnight sky, oh! What a mess!
Their hopes are dashed; life is smashed of body’s sweat!
The Mother weeps and father yells!
Sitting in the house of poverty and what-else!
Small sister sleeps and her little brother dies and I linger;
His father only stares as he is killed by hunger...
Why doctors only cure diseases and why not
Poverty - the biggest disease of all. Is it not?
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Every now and then in newspapers, I hear
The death of a peasant or two, oh my dear!
Unable to feed family, life has become Herculean task,
Drowned himself in melancholy, under hunger mask!
Bogged down under wheels of Pressure, not to hide...
Due to debts of treasure, he committed suicide!
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Lot of hunger and empty bowl without food is poverty,
Not having one more dress to take bath is poverty,
............................................. ..............................................
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>READ PART 2>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
*A big NOTICE BOARD: Oops! Sorry the poem is NOT completed. This is just break time! Now read to make your reading wholesome read PART - 2
April, March! Soldiers Search for HUNGER MARCH - A2 Story
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Begging You
Im begging you,
Im begging you.
The fly on the coachwheel told me that he got it
And he knew what to do with it,
Everybody saw it, saw the dust that he made
King bee in a frenzy, ready to blow, got the horn good to go wait
Oh, his stings all gone, now hes begging you, begging you
Here is a warning, the sky will divide
Since I took off the lid, theres nowhere to hide
Now Im begging you, Im begging you
This is a mystery not to be solved
But be minded, like minded, Im gone
Still Im with you, Im begging you, Im begging you
Give it over, give it over
Give it over, give it begging you
Give it over, give it over
Give it over, yeah Im begging you, Im begging you
Weigh it and say it, is it all in a name
Does it call you or maul you and drive you insane
Can it make you remember, time is in place
Now Im begging you, Im begging you
The fly on the coachwheel told me that he got it
And he knew what to do with it
Everybody saw it, saw the dust that he made
Make all the dust that you can, make all the dust that you can
King bee in a frenzy ready to blow
song performed by by Stone Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Poor Man
All suffering falls on a
sinful world without pointing
on where to be
sickness and saddness has made
me popular; poverty makes
me feel pride of lack
I am not rich yet my
heart creeps into poverty
My suffering has grant
my generation riches and
success; my tyrant is
here speak not of wealth
close the doors and windows
lets talk in te`te-a-te`te
My home is inside his
oath my tyrant speak in fate
and call me a poorman
No the price must be
paid for my success
i have seen the
twenty twenty vision
i am needless of my
tyrant fate,
my struggle is my glory.
poem by Senator alufalism
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Contract In Love
written by Lamont Dozier, Janie Bradford, & Brian Holland
(c) 1962 Jobete Music Co., Inc. (ASCAP)
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign it
Sign it
Sign it
Sign it
You say you love me
And I believe it's true
But before I let myself go
Here's what you've got to do
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
You've got to sign
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
My contract on love
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Write it in your heart
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
That you'll never do anything
To ever make us part
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
Yeah, I know it may seem strange to you
Yeah, but I've lost a love so many times before
Yeah, and now that I know the score
No one's gonna hurt me no more
And I'm takin' all my chances with romances
Yeah
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
So just sign
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Right here on this dotted line
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Where it says you'll be mine, all mine
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Until the end of time
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
So come on, come on, come on, and
Sign, yeah
(Baby, baby, sign my contract on love)
Sign, yeah
(Baby, baby, sign my contract on love)
Sign, right here on this line
(Baby, baby, sign my contract on love)
Yeah
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
Sign, yeah
(Baby, baby, sign my contract on love)
Sign, yeah
(Baby, baby, sign my contract on love)
Sign my contract on love
(Baby, baby, sign my contract on love)
FADE
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peace or Poverty
Their skin soaks up the heat
Leaving it as black as the midnight sky,
Their eyes wide, white, pleading
Begging to the passersby.
They litter the street
Half naked bodies,
Red and colouring their feet
Searching for a entrance
A door out of the circle of poverty.
Poverty means destruction
Destruction means fear
Behind locked doors we sit in early evening
Too scared to see a black face
Terrified of black feet crossing the threshold.
But why be fearful of your slaves,
Those you whip and beat
Treating like the dirt from the doormat
Where you wipe your feet.
Role diversity causes poverty
Poverty destroys peace
But peace minus poverty
Means Equality should increase.
poem by Sonali Shah
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In opposition to this detachment, he finds an image of man which contains within itself man's dreams, man's illness, man's redemption from the misery of poverty - poverty which can no longer be for him a sign of the acceptance of life.
quote by Salvatore Quasimodo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gorgeous
A cute white lion cub posed there,
Sphinx-like for all to see,
So gorgeous and so debonair,
Born free and fancy free...
Serenity personified,
Tranquillity sublime,
That's why I stared, eyes open wide,
As if now lost in time...
Imagine how the years would grant
Him stature and allure,
So he could do the things he can't,
For then he'll do much more...
Today, he's just a ball of fur
With arms and legs attached,
With head and tail and gentle purr,
With beauty rarely matched...
But when he's grown, my word, what then?
A lion king, no doubt!
For sure, a royal sovereign,
Distinctive, standing out!
If God and Man let him survive,
What wondrous things he'll do!
That could be said of all alive,
Including me... and you!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Gorgeous'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shadow Inside My Shadow
poverty is not my cousin,
is not my lover,
is not my preacher,
poverty is not my brother.
poverty is not my prayer,
or the song that i sing
is not my answer
poverty is not my dream.
poverty is not my teacher,
not the hand that i hold.
poverty is not my anger,
not my spirit, not my soul.
ah! but this poverty is real
it races thru my mind
crashes into my heart,
& leaves me deaf and blind.
poverty is my companion.
the aching cold inside my hollow.
the blow behind my eyes,
poverty is the shadow
inside my shadow.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Hymn 43 part 2
The Christian's treasure.
1 Cor. 3:21.
How vast the treasure we possess!
How rich thy bounty, King of grace!
This world is ours, and worlds to come;
Earth is our lodge, and heav'n our home.
All things are ours: the gifts of God;
The purchase of a Savior's blood;
While the good Spirit shows us how
To use, and to improve them too.
If peace and plenty crown my days,
They help me, Lord, to speak thy praise;
If bread of sorrows be my food,
Those sorrows work my lasting good.
I would not change my blest estate
For all the world calls good or great;
And while my faith can keep her hold,
I envy not the sinner's gold.
Father, I wait thy daily will;
Thou shalt divide my portion still;
Grant me on earth what seems thee best,
Till death and heav'n reveal the rest.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Your Riches—taught me—Poverty
299
Your Riches—taught me—Poverty.
Myself—a Millionaire
In little Wealths, as Girls could boast
Till broad as Buenos Ayre—
You drifted your Dominions—
A Different Peru—
And I esteemed All Poverty
For Life's Estate with you—
Of Mines, I little know—myself—
But just the names, of Gems—
The Colors of the Commonest—
And scarce of Diadems—
So much, that did I meet the Queen—
Her Glory I should know—
But this, must be a different Wealth—
To miss it—beggars so—
I'm sure 'tis India—all Day—
To those who look on You—
Without a stint—without a blame,
Might I—but be the Jew—
I'm sure it is Golconda—
Beyond my power to deem—
To have a smile for Mine—each Day,
How better, than a Gem!
At least, it solaces to know
That there exists—a Gold—
Altho' I prove it, just in time
Its distance—to behold—
Its far—far Treasure to surmise—
And estimate the Pearl—
That slipped my simple fingers through—
While just a Girl at School.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Naturally I drew register a little exaggerated, in order to create something new in the sense of a sublime literature that sings of despair only in order to oppress the reader, and make him desire the good as the remedy.
quote by Comte de Lautreamont
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Magical Wish
One day I would like to go
To a distant and quiet place
Where nobody would find me,
Not even the dusty wind
And from you, I would be far away…
A place where tranquility prevails
And the pure air dominates the skies,
The fresh air that would greet my lungs
And give me the strength
That I can't afford to waste
In my pursuit to sing a new song…
A sublime and comfortable place
Where the happy singing birds
Would gently wake me up every day,
Letting me know in a sweet way
That is time to wash my craggy face
With the magical morning's dew
This would help me recapture,
From yesterday,
My early restless -youth…
In this new place, I would call home,
I would recreate a World of my own,
Where I would welcome each day
The warming and smiling Sun
With a distinctive sign that says:
"Love and Peace for always"...
©All Rights Reserved-2011
poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Begging You
I'm begging you
I'm begging you
The fly on the coachwheel told me that he got it
And he knew what to do with it everybody saw it
Saw the dust that he made
King bee in a frenzy ready to blow
Got the horn good to go wait
Oh his sting's all gone
Now he's begging you
Begging you
Here is a warning the sky will divide
Since I took of the lid
Now there's nowhere to hide
Now I'm belling you
I'm begging you
This is a mystery not to be solved
but be minded like minded
I'm gone still I'm with you
I'm begging you
I'm begging you
Give it over give it over
Give it over give it over
Yeah I'm begging you
I'm begging you
Give it over give it over
Give it over give it over
Yeah I'm begging you
I'm begging you
Weigh it and say it
Is it all in a name
Does it call you or maul you
And drive you insane
Can it make you remember time is a place
Now I'm belling you
I'm begging you
The fly on the coachwheel told me that he got it
And he knew what to do with it everybody saw it
Saw the dust that he made
Make all the dust that you can
Make all the dust that you can
King bee in a frenzy ready to blow
song performed by by The Stone Roses from Second Coming
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Best Of Your Imperfections
You have let the 'hue' of things,
Bedazzle your quest...
To suppress with resentment,
Those who possess color.
And you consciously continue,
To refuse to admit...
Your wish to be like the others,
Who are born with this naturalness.
Only you come into view,
To introduce conflict.
Only you can not permit,
To leave alone what exists.
You have let the 'hue' of things,
Bedazzle your quest...
To suppress with resentment,
Those who possess color.
And it's only you who insists,
That the absence of hue...
Entitles you to do as you wish,
Until destruction has dissected...
All that does not reflect,
The best of your imperfections.
So noticeable are your blemishes,
And weaknesses you refuse to accept.
So noticeable too,
Your choice to choose to allow as you do...
A defying what God has created.
To have praise bestowed just upon yourself.
You have let the 'hue' of things,
Bedazzle your quest...
To suppress with resentment,
Those who possess color.
And your wickedness done,
Will come to undo...
Your attempts to not be 'hue-man-like',
With beliefs God has your back.
And blesses your pursuits.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sonnet: Glory
Man tries his level-best to gain glory,
In short a time and by all covert means;
His life gets spent with mind in this worry,
Knowing not that they are but earthly scenes!
One’s glory got by climbing high a peak,
Will stay forev’r if done by hardest way;
But glory o’er-night, others try to seek,
That plummets down to earth during the day!
All earthly glory vanishes with time;
Some may remain for centuries to come;
The wisest man will make his life sublime,
By keeping eyes fixed on heaven- God’s home!
The glory got by man’s efforts lasts not;
Each word from mouth of God decides one’s lot!
poem by John Celes (26 December 2006)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Treasure
you are a valuable treasure, a treasure that is second to none, a rare treasure, priceless treasure, a treasure which every ones desire in his heart, a treasure that every heart awaited to explore.
poem by Tijani Adebowale Destiny
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My Glory Is Not The Glory of God
MY GLORY IS NOT THE GLORY OF G-D
My glory is not the glory of G-d
I do not know what the glory of God is-
I do not know my own glory.
Glory glory glory
What’s glory?
We are small lost souls in a space and time so far beyond us
It is difficult to imagine
Even God knows how to deal with it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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