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We have no right to luxuries while the poor want bread.

quote by Thomas Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our American values are not luxuries but necessities, not the salt in our bread, but the bread itself. Our common vision of a free and just society is our greatest source of cohesion at home and strength abroad, greater than the bounty of our material blessings.

quote by Jimmy Carter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crying For Bread

"Please, lady! please pay my Ma for her sewing;
The suit fits you splendidly--that you'll allow.
Oh! don't say tomorrow! I see you are going;
But this will not hinder long--please pay me now.
Ma work'd all night for you! ev'ry minute;
Now she lies groaning with pain in her head;
And there by the pantry (with not a thing in it),
Sits poor little Theodore crying for bread!
Poor little Theodore crying for bread!"

"On! driver, on! they have all gone before us,
And I will not be late at the ball," Beauty said;
And wintry winds echoed her answer in chorus
With poor little Theodore crying for bread!
Poor little Theodore crying for bread!

"Please lady! please pay my Ma for her sewing;
I'll run and get change for you. Don't call me bold--
But how could you dance tonight all the time knowing
That we were left suffering, hungry and cold?
Ma looks so wild! she keeps calling for Daisy;
That was the name of my sister that's dead.
Oh! what shall I do, with my Ma going crazy,
And poor little Theodore cryiing for bread?
Poor little Theodore crying for bread!"

"Please lady! please pay my Ma for her sewing;
She must have some medicine--that let me buy.
Now, don't speak of beggars! 'tis money you're owing:
Do please, pay me part of it--else we must die."
On the wheels roll'd, and Fidele returned weeping;
Ah! in her absence a spirit had fled,
And morning light found her a weary watch keeping,
With poor little Theodore crying for bread!
Poor little Theodore crying for bread!"

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Brighter Is One's Life Turned On

Fawning over luxuries?
Don't you fawn.
Those luxuries one day will leave,
And everything fawned.

What will you do if they go?
And there's nothing left that's shown?
Only grief exposing life,
And 'things' gone.

Fawning over luxuries?
Don't you fawn.
Those luxuries one day will leave,
And everything fawned.

Hoping for a return for them,
Only makes a sadness deepen.
When it dawns to end a fawning...
Brighter is one's life turned on.
With a darkness by such dawning gone!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We live in a time of transition, an uneasy era which is likely to endure for the rest of this century. During the period we may be tempted to abandon some of the time-honored principles and commitments which have been proven during the difficult times of past generations. We must never yield to this temptation. Our American values are not luxuries, but necessities - not the salt in our bread, but the bread itself.

quote by Jimmy Carter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We live in a time of transition, an uneasy era which is likely to endure for the rest of this century. During the period we may be tempted to abandon some of the time-honored principles and commitments which have been proven during the difficult times of past generations. We must never yield to this temptation. Our American values are not luxuries, but necessities - not the salt in our bread, but the bread itself.

Jimmy Carter in his farewell address
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your pocket

Keep your pocket untouched
As the Wiseman said
You are the only one to touch
To earn and maintain your bread
You cannot leave it untouched
Since though bread rhymes with bed
You can have it attached
And even your back pocket occasionally
Many times by a credit card penetrated
And as bread once had raisins for poor children to smile, bread and cards and pockets are also nowanights,
pleasure and delight.
Men are most fortified
When approximately forty-five
Children smile, today, through pockets children cry

poem by Chrysostomos Tsiailis
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You will find out that Charity is a heavy burden to carry, heavier than the kettle of soup and the full basket. But you will keep your gentleness and your smile. It is not enough to give soup and bread. This the rich can do. You are the servant of the poor, always smiling and good-humored. They are your masters, terribly sensitive and exacting master you will see. and the uglier and the dirtier they will be, the more unjust and insulting, the more love you must give them. It is only for your love alone that the poor will forgive you the bread you give to them.

quote by Vincent de Paul
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bread Hair

Im a wigged-out daddy with bread on top
I dig an easy-bake granny with a whiskey mop
If you love me, you neednt the whole wheat crop
cause they had a useless battle andll never stop
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Youre drivin all my hope away
Im a pumpernickel-do for you, dough you do
Use a yarmulka of hallah bread if youre a jew
I belong to cayope*, I be the wheat for you
Yeast and flour, bake an hour, its annoying shampoo
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Drivin all my hope away
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Youre drivin all my hope away
Thats a gone rug, buddy

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bread is wiser

Butter is richer than bread
But can’t replace bread.
But butter is better with bread
For which is not sad the bread.
Wives are not wiser than bread.
05.02.2000, Palakkad

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Poverty

I saw an old cottage of clay,
And only of mud was the floor;
It was all falling into decay,
And the snow drifted in at the door.

Yet there a poor family dwelt,
In a hovel so dismal and rude;
And though gnawing hunger they felt,
They had not a morsel of food.

The children were crying for bread,
And to their poor mother they’d run;
‘Oh, give us some breakfast,’ they said,
Alas! their poor mother had none.

She viewed them with looks of despair,
She said (and I’m sure it was true),
‘’Tis not for myself that I care,
But, my poor little children, for you.’

O then, let the wealthy and gay
But see such a hovel as this,
That in a poor cottage of clay
They may know what true misery is.
And what I may have to bestow
I never will squander away,
While many poor people I know
Around me are wretched as they.

poem by Jane Taylor
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The poor have to labour in the face of the majestic equality of the law, which forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal bread.

quote by Anatole France
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Feathers on head

The one who sings on God does so for one’s bread.
The one who spells gospel does so for one’s bread.
The one who serves God does so for one’s bread.
You give them bread and keep them on your head.
16.01.2007

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Yea! Heavy And A Bottle Of Bread (1)

by Bob Dylan
Well, the comic book and me, just us, we caught the bus.
The poor little chauffeur, though, she was back in bed
On the very next day, with a nose full of pus.
Yea! Heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! Heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! Heavy and a bottle of bread
It's a one-track town, just brown, and a breeze, too,
Pack up the meat, sweet, we're headin' out
For Wichita in a pile of fruit.
Get the loot, don't be slow, we're gonna catch a trout
Get the loot, don't be slow, we're gonna catch a trout
Get the loot, don't be slow, we're gonna catch a trout
Now, pull that drummer out from behind that bottle.
Bring me my pipe, we're gonna shake it.
Slap that drummer with a pie that smells.
Take me down to California, baby
Take me down to California, baby
Take me down to California, baby
Yes, the comic book and me, just us, we caught the bus.
The poor little chauffeur, though, she was back in bed
On the very next day, with a nose full of pus.
Yea! Heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! Heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! Heavy and a bottle of bread

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the Breadline

In the baked dough of flour, water and yeast
they were chatting merrily while baking.
The robust baker listens; ' flour said' I was in a big field
and then after the crop they took me to a mill and they grind.
Water laughed and said' I don't know where I have come from? '.
Yeast said 'I was a fungus dear; not only in the bakery
in the brewery too a good demand for us.
I heard that they make bread, cake and so many varieties out of us.
Our price goes high everyday and a poor cannot afford.'
History says; Marie.Antoinette said to the poor
'if you cannot eat bread then why don't you try cake? '
And the following day they invaded the fortress Bastile.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Bread And Wine!

i saw the buddha
in the eyes of the prisoner,
waiting to be executed.
our system of justice,
demands retribution,
as long as it's someone else!

preferably,
someone poor,
addicted, uneducated,
black, Hispanic,
or just plain old
white trailer trash.
the homeless man,
the man who's lost it all,
the man with no job,
no future, no dream...
no one will miss them anyway!

while the 'gods of success',
wheel and deal on the market,
playing with lives,
as if playing cards.
starting wars that make them rich,
raping the planet, even richer!
and taking from the poor,
always the poor.

immune?
above the law?
a different set of rules,
and a phony morality.
they kill the buddha
for bread and wine...
bread made of flesh,
wine made of blood!

the cost of justice...
afforded by the few!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Yea! Heavy & A Bottle Of Bread

Well, the comic book and me, just us, we caught the bus.
The poor little chauffeur, though, she was back in bed
On the very next day, with a nose full of pus.
Yea! heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! heavy and a bottle of bread
Its a one-track town, just brown, and a breeze, too,
Pack up the meat, sweet, were headin out
For wichita in a pile of fruit.
Get the loot, dont be slow, were gonna catch a trout
Get the loot, dont be slow, were gonna catch a trout
Get the loot, dont be slow, were gonna catch a trout
Now, pull that drummer out from behind that bottle.
Bring me my pipe, were gonna shake it.
Slap that drummer with a pie that smells.
Take me down to california, baby
Take me down to california, baby
Take me down to california, baby
Yes, the comic book and me, just us, we caught the bus.
The poor little chauffeur, though, she was back in bed
On the very next day, with a nose full of pus.
Yea! heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! heavy and a bottle of bread

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are There Poems For the Poor?

ARE THERE POEMS FOR THE POOR?

Are there poems for the poor?
What are they about?
Not having?
Not being able to buy?
Hunger?
Sleeping on the street?
Saying ‘no’ to those one loves?
Critical medications not afforded?
Children without bread?

Are there poems for the dead?
Going through the garbage cans
And remembering
How I once looked with slight contempt
On those who did so?

Are their poems for the poor?
The dead?

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Contentment

Bed and bread are all I need
In my happy day;
Love of Nature is my creed,
Unto her I pray;
Sun and sky my spirit feed
On my happy way.

To no man I bow the head,
None may master me;
I will eat my crust of bread
Lauding liberty;
And upon my truckle bed
Glory to be free.

You who grab for sordid gold,
You who fight for fame,
Shiny dross your fingers hold,
Empty is your aim.
--Soon we fatten graveyard mould,
Rich and poor the same.

So from world of want and woe
I retreat with dread;
Tuned to Nature glad I go
With my bite of bread:
Praising God I lay me low
On my truckle bed.

poem by Robert William Service
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Luxury may possibly contribute to give bread to the poor; but if there were no luxury, there would be no poor.

quote by Henry Home
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Picture Of Greed

on one hand
he carries a
big loaf of bread
on the other
he carries a
basket
of the same
loaf of bread

on his head
is another
basket of
the same loaf
of bread

a little child
spreads his
hands for
a loaf of bread

then he speeds
his way
as he bites
a loaf of
bread in
his mouth

the little child
follows him
and there he
is closing the
door of his
house all
made of bread

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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