As farmers or owners, the poor peasants possess a piece of land. The excellent means of transport enables them often to sell their goods. At the very worst they can mostly provide their own food.
quote by Herman Gorter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
It Is A Bleak Season For Farmers
It is a bleak Season for farmers with climate change and livestock prices down
Some of them have sold what they can sell and moved to live and to find jobs in the town
For many of them the rains have come too late climate change affecting everywhere
Global warming is in every Country in the bigger World out there
Some arrogant Humans think they can control Nature how come they have got it so wrong
How egotistical they must be for to think they can control the one we to belong
For we too are a part of Nature as much as her creatures of sea and of land
And she will always be our master though some that do not understand
Many farmers due to climate change the land are leaving and that seems a sad thing to say
With less farmers less food in the supermarket but the wealthy they will be okay
For a farm food scarcity means higher food prices but for food they can afford for to pay
'Tis the poor will be condemned to suffer in times of food scarcity 'tis always this way
It is a bleak Season for farmers and that is a sad thing to hear
And for the have nots of the World it looks like another bleak year.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tradesmen
Forced by tragedy the tradesmen sell their goods,
Damning the praises coming for their livelihoods;
Cotton, wool and silk give in to their owners,
Wealth shall empower some of the loaners.
The giving and taking may be scalded and disrupted,
Having been trusted firstly and lastly, but corrupted.
An interest achieved by the merchants is despicable,
Let coins fall into a pit of gold, that is admirable.
You seek abominations from the tradesmen,
Yet goods achieve the status of wonderment with countrymen.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Misfortune Of A Aurora East Rand Mineworker
A 36 year old man works months without payment
at the Aurora East Rand gold mine
under the illusion from the black owners, promising
that salaries are following, but without receiving money.
In January he only receives ten percent of his salary
(which is just eighteen hundred rand)
while the company owns him for eighteen months
and the government does nothing against the black owners
he looks for other employment everywhere
but is not able to find anything else,
he is put out of his house and has to leave it
finding nowhere to go to
things get too much for the poor man,
he looses his cars, his furniture
and almost every thing that he possess,
in his thoughts he is at the edge of the abyss,
he does not know how to put food on the table,
tries to hang himself three times on one night
where his wife stops him just in time
and now she is really scared
that he will try to suicide again.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kiwi Slangs
Char Char
Means good one
Nik minit
Means next minute
World famous in NZ
Means you're famous only in NZ
Get in behind
Means please move out of my way
Got ya right
Means I've got your back mate
Hard
Means good
Solid
Means choice
Skuks
Means all good or excellent
Primo
Is not a drink it means in kiwi slang nice one?
Kids today baffle me with slang
Sometimes I think I'm in another land
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One thing that really appeals to me is this idea of music being a living thing that has an evolution that, in a way, enables the artist to sell a process rather than a piece of product.
quote by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Photograph
Of all the worldly goods I own,
Of all that I possess,
One photograph means more to me,
Much more than all the rest.
Who took this precious photograph
I couldn't really say;
I only know the subject is
More lovely than the day.
A face so radiant, so serene,
And known and loved so well;
This photograph I hold so dear,
I'd never give or sell.
True beauty comes from deep within,
It's something you can't buy;
It's captured on my photograph,
And cameras never lie.
It may be silly fancy,
And mock me if you will;
But when I choose to look at it
All time is standing still.
I know I'm looking at the past,
But I don't care, you see
My Mother's eyes are filled with love,
And looking right at me.
Written Nov 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hard To Swallow
We eat to live
We eat to grow
We eat to endulge ourselves,
In the greatness of food
We eat to provide comfort
We eat to be accepted
We eat as it is part,
Of our lives
Food comes in all different forms,
Shapes and sizes
It can be a bean as small as a nail
Or a christmas turkey the size of a horse
Food is a necessity
Food is a way of life
Food is enjoyed
Food is loved
But for some,
Food is despised
Eating brings pain
Eating brings weight
Eating brings illness
Eating brings hate
Eating means endless pain
A pain that wont stop,
Until the food inside,
Is forced out
Eating means weight gain and hurt
So,
It's best not to eat at all
The aching pain of hunger drifts away,
With several ibuprofein.
The battle with food is a constant struggle
To overcome the eating disorder
To take one bite,
And Swallow!
poem by Chris jones
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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E-Coli Source Was Poor Hygiene?
E-Coli source
needle in hay stack
compass tracing back?
Contamination source
was poor hygiene
at restaurant in Lübeck?
Apparently at least
17 people infected
with virile E-Coli
had eaten there?
Such a high number
suspicious severe cases
means huge contamination?
Probably occurred
somewhere anywhere
from farm to fork?
Source origin point
cleaning, packaging,
transport, at wholesalers,
or any retailers...
anywhere along
supply food chain?
Quite unprofessional then
to point bugs on the run gun...
at Spanish cucumbers
or German bean sprouts...
instead suspect source...
contamination may have been
poor hygiene either at a farm
in transit, in a shop or food outlet?
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Food is god
Food is god
for poor people...!
God is not
Only food...
Rich home
Dog is eat
Nice food...
That food is god...?
yes that also
A god...
Good food is
God...
What is good food...?
Given good health
Always good food...
So...
Non veg
Or veg...
Every good food
Is god...
Simply sit
Silentely eat food
With out hot
And cool drinks...
Food is not only
Poor's god...
With each and
Every one also
food is god...
Give respect and
Take food...
Happley too try too
Thank for god...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Used Car Sales People
With the gift of the gab they would talk their way out of hell
These used car sales people they know how to sell
On their selling ability their jobs are at stake
The more cars they do sell the more commission they do make
On any deals they clinch they have never lost
And your trust on such people can come at a cost
The more cars they sell the more money they get paid
A hard job to succeed in the used car trade,
Shy and sensitive used car sales people one might say are rare
To sell one a car no effort they do spare
They have to sell cars or their boss them will fire
And other used car yard owners as car sales people them will not hire
The more cars they sell the greater is their pay
So to sell you a car they try every which way.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In My Dreams Song
In my dreams
You will swimm
L'océan
That God made
Many years ago
In my dreams
L'océan
Will always be there
For the ships to come
From a long distance
To deliver food and merchandise
To the stores
So that the owners of the stores
Can sell their food and merchandise
To the consumer
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Sorcerer's soppy land!
A famine is a widespread scarcity of food. This phenomenon is usually accompanied or followed by regional malnutrition, starvation, epidemic, and increased mortality.
Emergency measures in relieving famine primarily include providing deficient micronutrients, such as vitamins and minerals, through fortified sachet powders or directly through supplements. The famine relief model increasingly used by aid groups calls for giving cash or cash vouchers to the hungry to pay local farmers instead of buying food from donor countries, often required by law, as it wastes money on transport costs.Long-term measures include investment in modern agriculture techniques, such as fertilizers and irrigation, which largely eradicated hunger in the developed world. World Bank strictures restrict government subsidies for farmers, and increasing use of fertilizers is opposed by some environmental groups because of its unintended consequences: adverse effects on water supplies and habitat
I sowed some other land
And he has taken the reap?
I left aside
With empty hands
And the fertilizer
Gone with the wind!
*for my Historian friend Raj Nandy
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sell My Soul
Lets begin, I am ready, lets begin
Sell my soul to him
Shed my skin, I just wanna shed my skin
I dont wanna sell my soul to him
Mechanize, city bursts and farmers die
They cry
Sleep face down in a goods train heading south in the rain
In this world I often think you understand me
In these words I often think youd recognise me
cos I just wanna swim with the fish in the sea
And I want faith to heal so that I can be clean
Americas great now
If you dont talk back
You hide your face
Crawl in rubble and smile and scorn
At that snail-paced creature
Going up and down walls
Celebrate, I just want to celebrate
Im not going to sell my soul to him
When you look right in
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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May seventeenth
Wergeland's statue on May seventeenth
Saw the procession. And as its rear-guard,
Slow marching masses,
Strong men, and women with flower-decked presence;
Come now the peasants, come now the peasants.
Österdal's forest's magnificent chieftain
Bore the old banner. Soon as we see it
Blood-red uplifted,
Greet it the thousands in thought of its story:
That is our glory, that is our glory!
Never that lion bore crown that was foreign,
Never that cloth was by Dannebrog cloven.
I saw the
future
,
When with that banner by Wergeland's column
Peasants stood solemn, peasants stood solemn.
Most of our loss in the times that have vanished,
Most of our victories, most of our longing,
Most that is vital:
Deeds of the past and the future's bold daring
Peasants are bearing, peasants are bearing.
Sorely they suffered for sins once committed,
But they arise now. Here in the Storting
Stalwart they prove it,
All, as they come from our land's every region,
Peasants Norwegian, peasants Norwegian.
Hold what they won, with a will to go farther;
Whole we must have independence and honor!
All of us know it:
Wergeland's summer bears soon its best flower,-
Power in peasants, peasants in power.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Salad is Incompatible with Life
Yes, my waist is fifty inches -
Big for me because I'm short.
And yes, I like my cheddar cheese
When partnered with a vintage port.
Okay, okay, that double cream
Is always served with pud,
And cake and biscuits with my tea
Are just no bloody good
For my poor hardened arteries,
But see my point of view,
Please dear wifey if you please,
A Salad makes me spew!
I'd rather eat a bowl of air
Than crunch away on greens;
Drink water from the toilet bowl
Or nibble on my jeans!
But salad! Are you there?
You know it makes me snappy -
So let me fill my face with grub,
Stay fat, and die young happy!
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Access To Fast Food, Branded Clothes And
The creation of nations,
that have passion,
for money and power,
is the absolute poverty.
Not having the access,
to shelter, food and clothing,
to have a healthy living.
Fifteen percent Americans,
fall under poverty line,
and they earn,
less than,
ONLY 22K American dollar,
per year.
In other parts of the world,
people live,
in appropriate poverty,
and they live on,
2 dollars a day,
six hundred dollars a year,
five people can eat,
have shelter and simple clothing,
still they are healthy.
slim and fit.
Europeans are clever,
to make the people to believe,
that they are poor,
earning only 800 Euro a month,
Which is above,
the average annual income,
of many developing nations,
where people have,
no access to any wealth and health.
All of us stay in the same earth,
but the value of properties,
and the rental acquired,
through the properties,
differ substantially.
Politicians of the poor nations,
have abysmal knowledge on economics.
To be a rich nation,
we should have values,
but these clowns are short sighted,
to look at the value,
of their own properties!
Do not say that they are poor,
because the term poor itself,
will be ashamed,
for using its credibility,
for wrong purpose.
Please do not call them poor,
when the nations are able to provide them,
the food, shelter and health care.
Find a suitable word,
and leave the poor alone,
who have no access,
to any of these comforts on their own,
and their nations,
are unable to provide them,
the access to the comfort.
Reason for writing this poem.
The feelings of the poor are the same through out the world, irrespective of the countries that they are staying, but the proper definition for poverty should be clarified before classifying the people as poor, which means the poor of one country may be considered as the rich in another country. Then what is the real meaning for poverty?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jobism-According to Uncle Bob
'Jobism'
he said
'the real disease of the 2Oth century'
Bob was warming up to the topic.
'Now you take my grandfather,
what he wanted was his own piece of land
the ability to run his own life
he didn't work all his life for a job.
He worked for land and the independence
that land meant.
It has been that way for all of history of the human race.
From the cave man marking up the cave walls
to the rancher, the farmer
and the homesteader,
all we have ever wanted was a piece of land
to call our own.
My people came here to America not for a job
but for freedom.
Now we are settling for cubicles.
Mere one-hundred years ago
they taxed us off the land
gave to the corporations;
the farmers left the land,
got herded
into the dirty cities
plopped down into factories
becoming wage-slaves.
My Grandad is still bitter about that.
Now our kids are taught be good,
get a good education
and try to get a good wage-slave job.
One hundred years ago
it was get your own piece of land,
be independent,
don't be beholden to any man,
don't let the authorities run your life.
What a change huh?
This has had for more impact
than we think.
Hitler's minions asked why did they gas the Jews
and their answers were, 'it was my job.'
People in experiments will kill other people
if scientists in white lab coats tell them its ok to do so.
Whole nations go to war and maim
because somebody told them it was their job to do so.
Job one
means obedience is number two,
obedience to those that you might not ever obey
except for they tell you
obey me or your family starves.
or you can't get a good job.
We need to sever the wage-slave
from the job
which enslaves.
Cities never really worked
they create wealth for the few
and poverty for the many. Still does.
My idea, ' he said'
is I don't want no job:
I want independence.
Then he smiled.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Americans who had traveled in Europe knew the 'free' European peasants suffered considerably greater oppression and misery than did American bondsman. Modern scholarship has shown that the exploitation rate -- the percentage of the worker's production that was taken from him by his owners -- was lower among the slaves than among European peasants, that work loads were light, and that slaves actually experienced a considerable measure of personal freedom.
quote by Forest McDonald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We have said the first step was to designate the land, inform the owners. And the second would be to get the responses from the owners. And this will be openly done.
quote by Robert Mugabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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