An Unknown Woman
I met a woman this morning;
her hair was white without a strand out of place.
She sat down beside me to rest for a moment
and began talking to me.
She pointed out where she was married
at the tender age of nineteen,
of how many children
and grandchildren she had.
How she was ninety now,
but she didn’t look a day over seventy.
We laughed and quoted
you don’t have to be rich to be happy.
That sometimes the poor
have more fun than the rich will ever have.
Real friends bring contentment to our life.
We sat talked for fifteen minutes
before we had to go our separate ways,
but her words enriched this person’s life.
A stranger with a message,
enjoy everything you have
no matter how little it is.
5 July 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Woman And Her Loyal Maid
the old woman is very rich
she has two children, a lovely daughter and a very naughty son
the lovely daughter dislikes her
and the naughty son wants to kill her
she slaps her often and the more the daughter wants to go away from her
the son is disturbed and furious because he did not know his father enough
the daughter married a gentle man
and the son went away with no know address no known destination
he never came back
while she lives her own life away from the rich woman
the old woman has a loyal maid
who has no memory of humiliating words that the old woman more often
inflicts in her person
the old woman is dying
but the son and daughter have no respect anymore for such word
as mother.
meanwhile the loyal maid keeps swallowing the pesters of the old woman
expecting a part of the wealth
as her pay and legacy
well, this story cannot have an ending yet
the old woman is still alive and the son and daughter are still making up
their minds
what to do next.
Life is a comma. The ending always waits
for something that will be a happy one.
But who knows, except this one, something tragic may happen
at the end. Who knows?
I will for sure.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Not Rich In Money
I may not be rich in money but I'm rich of happiness
I don't care about money
Why?
Money can't buy everything, especially feelings
Money can't last forever
I'm happy even though I'm not rich
I have a good life, I have wonderful friends and families, and most of all: I am loved and cared
Being loved and cared is far better than having money
What will you choose?
Money or friendship and love?
I am grateful for all the things God gave me
Money doesn't matter
So what if you have a lot of money
But do you feel happy?
Being happy is more important than money
Why?
Because if you're not happy... it's hard to heal unhappiness as time goes by
I am happy as long as my family and friends care about me
I am happy to have such wonderful friends and family that supports me everyday
I am happy
Even if I'm poor... but I'm happy because my family and friends fill my heart with laughters, jokes, and smile in which all the burdens and stress flows away like the wind
Being poor is good though
You see poor people that are happy
Because they have each other
You can do anything with each other and do anything together
I am thankful God...
Thank you forgiving me such a wonderful life with the best friends and family in the world
Thank you for making me feel happiness everyday
Thank you God, for supoorting me, my family, and my friends
Thank you God, for protecting everybody in this world. Even you.
Rich In Our Own World
We are rich in our own world
and far richer than you think,
we are rich love and caring
from our family and friends.
We are rich in what we give
our wisdom and our laughter
that we share with everyone.
We are rich for all sorts of reasons
and none of them includes money.
If you think, you are poor,
forget it and think again.
Think of all the things you have
and you will be surprised to find
you are far richer than you think.
You are rich in your own world
with everything you have
and they are far richer than
anything money can bring.
14 October 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Proud
I lost my virginity in old Mexico
My lover was was nothing more than a lovely soul to me
She was a beauty to me
Love was not free
I think of that time
In nineteen sixty nine.
Then in Japan I walked through the streets
And found love again
It is no sin
It was nineteen seventy
And so heavenly.
Then in seventy four
I wanted more and married
A beautiful puerto rican lover of life
I made her my wife.
My family never came to the wedding
They shunned my bride
But love was alive
And she suffered living
In the town that I called home.
Now I have my son and two grandchildren
Irish and puerto rican proud.
Hey you!
Get off of my cloud!
Are You Married or Single?
Marriage is an institution that changes human life
After the wedding ceremony a brand new life begins
This means that nobody is ever the same again
Everybody anticipates better life after the wedding
Not all anticipation materialize the way we wanted
If you are one of the happily married ones
You should count your blessings and rejoice
Human beings get married for many reasons
Many get married for love and affection
Some get married for money and security
Few get married for convenience and expediency
Other people get married to have children
While the rest are married for other reasons
Marriage is meant to increase our happiness
But not all the married ones are truly happy
Those who are happily married, rejoice
Because they found the compatible partner
Because they have beautiful children
Because they love and respect each other
Because they sincerely care for each other
Because they have understanding in-laws
Staying married does not mean that your life
Is free from worries, problems and tribulations
Always remember your vows on the wedding day
For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer
If you are given the chance to do it all over again
Will you marry the same partner?
Or you will prefer marrying somebody else
Whatever may be your response or answer?
Please stay happy and enjoy the moment
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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A Peom For K. (The Banker With All The Conflicting Interests)
i shall now write
a poem for my happiest day,
it is all about an old, scheming and fraudulent
woman
stacking all her money and the money of the other
people
inside her room
inside her house and inside
her bigger storehouses
she says
these are all for her children
and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and
all the coming children of more
grandchildren & great great grandchildren
what is mad about this is
that she is taking the money due
to other people who are hungry and innocent
and gullible
but she is a very
wise woman and she gets what she wants
she gets what she all wants
practically everything that her hands can
hold her eyes can see
perhaps
forgetting that soon she will be
made to pay for the price of her greed
and avarice and dirty schemes and
foul techniques and it will be for all
her children and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and
all the coming children of more
grandchildren all the coming children of more
great grandchildren &
great great grandchildren
...and then justice shall reign
but when it comes
i shall not see this event anymore
but i will be happy
>>>ii
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Are you rich?
Because parents are rich
I am not rich.
Because brothers or sisters
Or in-laws are rich,
Because own children are rich
I am no richer.
Unless I myself am rich
I cannot be rich.
Too late to understand
And hence poor I went.
Agartala
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Very Thing That Makes You Rich
My father told me, lying on his bed of death,
"boy," he says, "woman she's gonna make it, don't fool your self
'cause she's got something to make a man lay that money, uh, right in her hand
And the very thing that makes her rich will make you poor
The very thing that makes her rich will make you poor"
That's right!
Well, i put you behind the wheel of a deuce and a quarter, yes i did
Had you living like a rich man's daughter, yes i did, i sure did
While you were living high on the hog
You had me down here scuffling like a dog
Well, the very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Don't you never ever make such a bad mistake
You know i'd rather climb into bed with a rattlesnake
Then to work hard every day bringing that woman all my pay
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor,
Makes me so damn poor
The thing that makes her rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich make me poor
Very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Makes me so damned poor
Money won't change it, no no...
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The poor wish to be rich, the rich wish to be happy, the single wish to be married, and the married wish to be dead.
quote by Ann Landers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Father’s Death
He had had six children,
Fifteen grandchildren and
Many great grandchildren.
He died with a son by.
Others didn’t see him last
And didn’t repent either.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Adept!
In the school of life there are many rooms,
As Jesus talked about his father, who have a big volumes
On this earth you can find the many level of civilizations,
From primitives, next & next up to the smart scientist interventions.
We all have our fate to fulfill,
Learn what we have to in this life & go up our hill.
Each person's life is like a software in God's computer,
We born, live, go through temptations & we became a performer.
The Law is built into each person
Given a choice between Life or malediction
Some follows the wrong way, some tries hard to be good,
If he/she finds true peace, self confidence, health & happiness,
That means the lesson was understood.
Rich, poor, sad, sick or happy are all just a dream,
Everything is passing fast like a sunbeam,
We have the choice which side we accept,
If we are smart, no matter what comes, we can adept.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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Sonnet: The Rich and the Poor
The rich become richer and the poor poorer;
This is the way in which this world goes on!
Men may become suddenly rich, not born;
A rich man turns suddenly a beggar.
The few pennies are snatched off from the poor;
The brunt of taxes are but borne by them;
They can’t make both ends meet by any sum;
The rich hoodwink the taxman- their brother!
Will the world treat people alike ever?
All men are born unequally today;
Yet, if it happens, ’twill be a wonder;
No matter what you do, things happen this way.
The rich become richer not by real work;
The poor become poorer though they hardwork!
poem by John Celes
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Tears of the poor
Tears of the poor are
The drinks of the rich.
Shedding of blood
Rich man's headache,
Poor men's justice.
Water is too cool
To bring forth your anguish,
Fire is the only solution
Drink fire to end your injustice.
Silence is lover's desire
Poor men's unbearable pain.
Din is the only right choice
To put forth your demand.
Dew is the conspiracy
Hatched between the rich and the king,
Morning is the 1st step
Of that poor men's sufferings.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Nalan 2.07 Family Scattered
Go to Vimarasan City
“Oh my dear, listen
Take the two children
To your father’s place.
You can live in peace.”
“For them, it’ll be difficult
To cross the hot dessert.
So, you go with them
And take care of them.”
Like this, the tired Nalan
In the interest of the children
Tried to convince Dhamayanthi,
Who heard it reluctantly.
Difficult to get a lover
She said, “It’s easy to beget
Children, as many as we want,
But it’s difficult to get
A lover of your might.”
Tears flowed in her eyes,
When she said like this.
She was very much upset,
And didn’t like to depart.
Person with no children
“Dhamayanthi! Listen,
A person with no children,
Will never go to heaven,
So, take care of our children.”
Is there one?
“Wealth, one may have,
Or, fame, he may have.
If he has no children
His life is empty then.”
What is the use?
“A person may learn,
All the scriptures even,
Yet, without children,
His life is a waste then.”
Let us go
“She said, “You’ve lost,
Everything to the last,
Let us go to our father
And comfortably live there.”
It is a shameful act
He said, “It’s like begging
Rich people, for our living.
Having lost our wealth
It’ll be an act of filth.”
Not a man, but madman
“A king begging another king
Is it not an unworthy thing?
He’s not a man, but madman
If he does it like a cheap person. “
Send children
She told, “If it’s so,
Let the children go,
And stay with my father,
For their good future.”
Why separate us?
Children tried to impress,
“Why do you send us
To another distant place.
Please don’t separate us.”
She was sad
When the children cried,
She was very much sad.
She hugged them closely
As a mother cried loudly.
Life was taken
A Brahmin led the children,
To the palace of Vimarasan,
While their parents cried,
In their duty, having failed.
Heart broken
With a broken heart,
Behind them Nalan went,
For some distance,
Till their disappearance.
He did not talk to her,
And silently stood there.
Was his fate, the main one,
Or his act caused his ruin?
Thinking and thinking,
He kept on worrying,
His mind became blank,
And he became sick.
poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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The Hooded Man With the Sickle
The hooded man with the sickle
He comes without invitation
He drops in on all kinds of people
And takes them with no hesitation.
The hooded man with the sickle
He might dropp by your place tonight
He may meet you on the road you take
And today, He may snuff out your light.
Live your life like there's no end-
Be ruthless and nasty with your ways,
But when you meet him around the bend
From the hooded man you can't run away.
We all will meet him, no matter what-
Poor, rich, famous or otherwise,
When he swings that sickle, you know that
You breathe your last and close your eyes.
........................ ..........................
'There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven...a time to be born, and a time to die...'
Ecclesiastes 3: 1
July 14,2009
Cabantuan City
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Poetry's Golden Day
I don't want to be busy as a bee
I want to enjoy and take it easy
I won't work hard to get rich
I fly in dream like a witch
And go to places where no one can go
And see many things that no one can show
My mind is rich in everyway
If I remain poor it's okay
I play with the words like Pele
To bring poetry's golden day
poem by Asif Andalib
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The prisoner of his conscience (Story Poem)
He was very poor and he married a rich woman
So he got money but he became a very sad man
She couldn't have children, even it wasn't his game plan
One day he saw a widow walking down the street ''It's later'
He told her calmly and begun to discuss about life with her
He didn't know why he suddenly felt to touch her so tender
He understood her when she confessed her cried coeur
Saying that she had three grown children and she was very poor
And she had to work as housemaid at a loudmouthed boor
She was in pain and he felt that and to help her was his concern
He wanted to take care of her family asking nothing in return
He thought never to dishonor her acting as a father to her children
He begun to understand how unhappy was the woman he loved
When he left her for another one and she became so grieved
He asked her to talk about his feelings for her and she approved
He wanted to divorce to marry her and take care of her needs
Certainly he wanted to become an adoptive father of her kids
To make her the mother of his future children he made a bid
His wife didn't agree to divorce but he left her on her demand
He took the widow and went to find their soul in a far away land
His wife got crazy and she killed herself they found her on the sand
He went to her funeral to see her last time without annoyance
He begun to scream releasing something deeper and fierce
Without his wish releasing the prisoner of his conscience.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Rich Music
Rich music like the morning sun, showers us with tender love
Touching our dear lives with so much tenderness to be won.
Rich music spreads peace right across the air like a gentle dove,
So that we can feel the need to live together as one.
Rich music fills the whole place with sounds of harmony above
That we can live in the world, so pleasant and filled with fun.
Rich music gives notes on how we can handle the inside of
Ourselves, so that we can live to shine like the sun.
Rich music tells how we can give our illness a good shove,
So that all the good we bring into our lives can be done.
poem by Obinna Kenechukwu Eruchie
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The Reunion
Well, one morning real early
I was going down the street,
And I heard a stranger asking
For Missis Chloe Fleet.
There was something in his voice
That made me feel quite shaky.
And when I looked right in his face,
Who should it be but Jakey!
I grasped him tight, and took him home -
What gladness filled my cup!
And I laughed, and just rolled over,
And laughed, and just give up.
'Where have you been? O Jakey, dear!
Why didn't you come before?
Oh! when you children went away
My heart was awful sore.'
'Why, mammy, I've been on your hunt
Since ever I've been free,
And I have heard from brother Ben, -
He's down in Tennessee.
'He wrote me that he had a wife,'
'And children?' 'Yes, he's three.'
'You married, too?' 'Oh, no, indeed,
I thought I'd first get free.'
'Then, Jakey, you will stay with me,
And comfort my poor heart;
Old Mistus got no power now
To tear us both apart.
'I'm richer now than Mistus,
Because I have got my son;
And Mister Thomas he is dead,
And she's nary one.
'You must write to brother Benny
That he must come this fall,
And we'll make the cabin bigger,
And that will hold us all.
'Tell him I want to see 'em all
Before my life do cease:
And then, like good old Simeon,
I hope to die in peace.'
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Tears of the poor man (alternative version)
The tears of the poor are
The drinks of the rich,
Yet the shedding of blood
Is the rich man's headache...
And what of the poor man's justice?
In truth, water is too cool
To bring forth your anguish!
Fire is the only solution!
Drink fire to end your injustice.
Silence is each lover's desire,
Yet the poor man's unbearable pain.
Making a din is the only right choice
To put forth your final demand.
Dew is but the conspiracy
Hatched between the rich and their kings,
While morning is but the first step
Of each poor man's sufferings..
poem by Abdul Wahab
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