’Tis a Sad, Mad World!
A famished, ill-clad beggar stands
Amidst some barking dogs!
All searching through the garbage-dump
For left-over food, fast;
Each taking turns at emptying,
The things inedible;
Their hunger-pangs can drive them mad;
Will Dame Luck smile on them?
His eyes keep straining just for food,
On plantain-leaves by luck;
The scorching sun can’t bother him,
Nor can the stench within;
His pangs of hunger goads him on
To lick the residue;
His face keeps smiling when he sees,
A morsel of cooked grain!
The dogs are happy biting bones,
Though meat, they never meet;
He’s back to work upon the pile
And sorts the rocks from leaves;
There’s silence excepting the noise
Of scrambling for food found;
The garbage-dump’s a blessed spot,
Where man and beast share food!
poem by John Celes
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Dogged Days
A country-dog has chanced to find
A plantain-leaf with left-o’er food;
Oh, what a stroke of luck this day!
It rolls over the ground with joy
And rips the packet open fast.
Some bits of chicken-bones with flesh
Amidst some biriyani rice –
That smells quite good but could be stale,
Yet tempting to the dog’s taste-buds!
The food lies scattered on the ground
With mud and pebbles, paper too;
A hungry dog is blind to these,
And eats the food in hurried way.
God only knows what things have slipped
Past throat, along with food it took;
Its hunger-pangs abated now,
The dog basks in the sun and sleeps!
But death could come soon anytime;
Just lucky, ’tis alive today!
Think of the human beings too,
Who lead a dogged-life these days –
Without a proper meal a day
Or clothes to wear or place to rest!
The God of love who made us all
Is watching how we treat brethren;
We talk so big but do little
To help the most unfortunate souls.
No land can call itself blessed;
No people can call themselves great,
While famished, ravished souls exist,
And people live in slums like dogs!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-8-2009
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet- Stark Reality
The garbage-dump, it serves as a cradle!
The female child is left here by the Eves;
Along with dogs, they search ’midst plantain leaves;
The beggar too comes here for his morsel!
The poor children, they search amongst garbage;
With bodies bare and sacks on their shoulders;
They beg too, in the street’s- no one bothers;
The plastic, iron, to sell they manage.
They work in risky jobs for a penny;
And go from pillar to post so many;
Beaten and abused and turned delinquents,
By drunken fathers, their cries, the air rents.
This is the stark reality today!
And children’s lives have not changed anyway.
poem by John Celes
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Trash and Treasure
So different we are in so many a way
That, every body knows I do not have to say
In case you do not know, here I will cite a few
See how luckless we are and fortunate are you
At times you do not eat, just for the lack of mood
Desirability of food in the table
Decides if you will eat or the meal just ignore
Often we do not eat, because of lack of food
Availability of food in the table
Determines if ever we eat or not at all
Sometimes your kind of food strays to our larder
Not via the grocer, a courier or waiter
But via garbage dump we rake painstakingly
For food and anything of value there might be
And when you go shopping In a department store
You choose the clothes you wear by the size or color
By the brand or trade mark, It must be signature
To us size and color matter not anymore
We cannot be choosy or be meticulous
Whatever comes our way, make do, accept we should
For these things come to us via similar route
Which is the garbage dump, we do not have a choice
And the roof that we have Inches above our heads
Are materials you throw away, considered waste
After your palaces and villas you have built
Your trash are wealth for us, possessions we cherish
Author's Note: In third-world countries, many people depend on garbage cans and garbage dumps for their subsistence. This poem is about them.
poem by Pacific Hernandez
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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
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We Cry for Food and They Give Us Bullets
Food! Food! Food!
It is all that we need
It is all that we need
to calm down our spirits!
It is food that fills
that fills the empty pangs
of our stomachs,
pangs that make us yawn
but cannot sleep
that make us gulp
but cannot vomit,
that make our saliva
taste sour and acidic!
We cry for food
like the helpless little children
with the art to attract attention
by our street demonstrations.
Yes, we cry for food like little children
to calm down our spirits,
that the cry cannot at all be neglected
for it is food,
it is food that soothes our spirits.
But you give us bullets
on the streets where we stage
our cry for food
You give us bullets
instead of food.
But even bullets cannot silence
our cry for food
for as long as we`re hungry
we shall be like little children
that will ever cry for food.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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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
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Sonnet: Offerings to God
Flowers and foods specially, they offer
In silver utensils- makes one wonder!
A ritual thus, does God expect at all?
When He needs nothing earthly for His hall.
They waste money, food in the name of God;
O give it to the beggars, they praise Lord;
’Tis a shame Man, a beggar in the streets
Searching the garbage dumps for food, he feeds!
Pet animals are indeed so lucky!
Well-groomed they eat with their master’s neatly;
O Human brother, have you lost your heart?
God’s semblance made, fellowmen too depart.
So share at least the excess food, wealth, man!
Take back a morsel or dime, you nev’r can.
3-1-2000
poem by John Celes
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Syrup Sponge
Pour a pint of cream
Upon my spongy bulge!
Scoop me with a
Hefty spoon;
Taste my essence -
Do you swoon?
Feed your self-esteem; indulge
In me until you burst -
Death by syrup sponge - you're cursed!
And as the count in inches gain
Upon your weary waist, the strain
Will tell, but you'll not care -
Steeped in sponge, you're unaware!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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
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To Seek Food
Hunger is to seek food,
Food has one eye and one ear.
The food we abstain from are the heads,
The food is caring over us, and we maintain
Our lives with the food of the day.
Liquors are taken as food,
With a brain too bright,
A table and a cook is required,
Forming my life as a whole.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Some food
Some food is
Medicine...
Medicine is some food...
Some food is poison...
Some food is Tenson...
Some food is Fear...
Some food is lovely...
Some food is Bland...
Some food is sweety...
Some food is spicy...
Some food is nothing...
Food is not only food
A good eatable medicine...
At only some food...
Some food...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Hunger, The Pang
Our mother earth gives
For one good grain sown
Hundreds of fresh grains
For our food in return.
How many sweet fruits
For a life time she gives
For one seed she takes
As one tree it grows?
Any animal on the land
Or any bird on the air
For its morrow's food
Does it take all the care?
For the food on the ground
How a crow makes a sound
Of 'caw' to call crows around
Just to share what it found?
When big cooked rice balls
An elephant in its mouth takes
A part of it on the floor spills
That feeds hundreds of ants.
But when a have on this earth
For his self, the food he hoards,
Doesn't the have-not's mouth
Go unfed for days countless?
The food in a pompous feast
A junk of it goes as rubbish.
If this goes to the poor atleast
Will that not fulfill God's wish?
The worst pain in the world
Is what the hunger gives
But this can be solved
If all follow the crows.
poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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The Hungry Squirrel
It is the winter of 2001;
’Tis raining cats and dogs;
A hungry squirrel madly runs,
In frantic search of food!
It can’t control its hunger pangs;
The weather’s damp and cold;
There is no sign of any food;
How can it remain warm?
The guava-fruits have disappeared;
Papayas are unripe;
The Pea-fowls guard the Palmyras;
There are no wild berries.
The squirrel squeaks quite endlessly;
Its warmth is running out;
Perhaps, it thinks of grandpa-days,
Of juicy fruits and nuts.
But soon, the squeaks have feeble gone;
Did the rodent find some food?
Nature often cruel turns,
Leaving the beasts unfed.
The Squirrel hasn’t turned up, of late;
Is it then dead or gone?
Starved to death by Nature dear?
Or perhaps still alive!
While men can go and purchase food,
What can these poor beasts do?
Yet, Mother Nature cares for them,
Much better than me, you!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-16-2001
poem by John Celes
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A Food For Everything!
Meals are the food for the body;
Knowledge is the food for the mind;
Meditation is the food for the spirit;
Music is the food for the love of heart;
Dreams are the food for the consciousness;
Prayer is the food for the Almighty;
Love is the food for the living heart;
Thoughts are the food for the brain;
Colourful ink is the food for the pen;
Ideas are the food for the stories;
Truth is the food for the will;
Sun’s energy is the food for the plants;
Plants are the food for the living beings;
But one man’s food is another man’s poison!
poem by Ramesh T A
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No Fixed Abode
Around the streets, some people pace;
Others sit in doorways and stare into space.
With nothing to do and nowhere to go,
Days seem to drag and time goes slow.
Their daily lives hold little direction;
They're prone to illness and infection.
Their dowdy clothes are full of dust and dirt;
Their eyes are full of hunger and deep down hurt.
Aromas from restaurants waft through the air,
Making pangs of hunger much harder to bear.
Their bellies grumble due to a lack of food;
Remembering better times, they sit and brood.
Some want money for food, drink or drugs;
Some just want love, and they just want a hug.
Amidst the city's seemingly never-ending din,
Many scavenge for their food in rubbish bins.
To ask for money, some seize their chance:
They get ignored or receive a cutting glance.
Like you and I, these people have feelings,
But the sight of them leaves some people reeling.
The lucky few head to a hostel for the night;
Others bed-down in doorways: a sorry old sight.
Those left on the streets do their best to sleep,
But klaxons wail loudly and car horns beep.
Each day and night, they struggle to survive;
In present circumstances, they cannot thrive.
Once upon a time, these people had pride,
But, from the world, they now want to hide.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Vangie's Cuisine...
Food, food, food…Vangie’s food…
You can find them in FACE BOOK
Mouthwatering cuisine of Filipinos food
Let’s get together and have a look…..
Pretty Vangie is the cook
Using delicate hand to cook the food
Her expertise is out of this world
Nothing can beat her skills of food….
I look at it everyday
To see what’s the menu for today
Tummy now that was once empty
Is now full of what she cooked for that day! ! ! !
-xxx-
poem by Rachel Hill
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Don't Waste Food
Hundreds and thousands have toiled under the scorching sun of summer,
to grow the food which so comfortably we eat.
think of food as the fruit of labor of thousands of hours,
rather than just rice and wheat.
millions die due to lack of food, so is their fate,
but we are lucky to have every time enough in our plate.
we may never go to the fields to produce the food,
but my friend 'food saved is food produced'.
so lets take a vow today to put in our plate only that much which we can eat,
so that even a single single grain may not go waste.
poem by Sunny Mittal
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4. Expiry Date
No food on the table
A little child cries
Her mother sits begging
With tears in her eyes
Why do they pass?
Can no one see her plight?
If she doesn’t find food
They will not eat tonight
She fought with the rats
Over garbage in bins
Cutting her fingers
On half open tins
Under the arches
Both ate what she found
They expired like the food
Passing by without sound
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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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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The hunger
the hunger thinks the rice
can chew both skin and bone
the hunger thinks it's nice
to eat although forlorn
the hunger thinks the corn
can swallow ears and eyes
deaf blind hunger born
self eaten within it dies
the hunger thinks the food
is just a body's unfair breath
the hunger knows the interlude
no food the body eats itself
the hunger thinks the body rotten
is just a place to survive and eat
the hunger of the lost and forgotten
makes its way to the last heart beat
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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How can I be quite happy when…?
I see the beggar on road-side,
Unable to stand and to walk;
Begging for alms from passers-by,
Sitting upon a plank with wheels?
The lunatic so scarcely dressed,
Walking from garbage dump to dump,
Eating the left-overs on leaves,
And chased away by barking dogs?
The school-child works part-time to earn
A pittance for the family’s sake,
As mother cannot manage house,
And father drunk abandoned home?
Unborn children are killed in scores,
And elderly stay neglected,
And heinous crimes keep rising high,
Corruption runs across all ranks?
The poor turn poorer by the day;
The innocent are killed and maimed;
The educated jobless stay,
And country reels from debt-burden?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-12-2010
poem by John Celes
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