Brandon
Born on the breast of the prairie, she smiles to her sire--the sun,
Robed in the wealth of her wheat-lands, gift of her mothering soil,
Affluence knocks at her gateways, opulence waits to be won.
Nuggets of gold are her acres, yielding and yellow with spoil,
Dream of the hungry millions, dawn of the food-filled age,
Over the starving tale of want her fingers have turned the page;
Nations will nurse at her storehouse, and God gives her grain for wage.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Many Must Grow Poorer
Millions will go to bed hungry tonight that does seem sad to say
And many of them will not wake again for to see another day
The sad fact that many die of malnutrition is sad cause for lament
Whilst billions in war by Governments are spent
Even in the World's wealthiest Nations people live in abject poverty
And the unequal distribution of wealth does seem all wrong to me
The wealthy getting wealthier whilst the homeless of poverty street
Are searching in the rubbish for thrown out food to eat
To have enough of food and shelter should be a basic human right
But millions must try to sleep hungry without shelter tonight
And many cannot feed their families on their meagre take home pay
In an egalatarian World things would never be this way
And many must grow poorer for every new millionaire
And for the hungry millions doesn't life seem so unfair.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Song of the Wheat
We have sung the song of the droving days,
Of the march of the travelling sheep;
By silent stages and lonely ways
Thin, white battalions creep.
But the man who now by the land would thrive
Must his spurs to a plough-share beat.
Is there ever a man in the world alive
To sing the song of the Wheat!
It's west by south of the Great Divide
The grim grey plains run out,
Where the old flock-masters lived and died
In a ceaseless fight with drought.
Weary with waiting and hope deferred
They were ready to own defeat,
Till at last they heard the master-word—
And the master-word was Wheat.
Yarran and Myall and Box and Pine—
’Twas axe and fire for all;
They scarce could tarry to blaze the line
Or wait for the trees to fall,
Ere the team was yoked, and the gates flung wide,
And the dust of the horses’ feet
Rose up like a pillar of smoke to guide
The wonderful march of Wheat.
Furrow by furrow, and fold by fold,
The soil is turned on the plain;
Better than silver and better than gold
Is the surface-mine of the grain;
Better than cattle and better than sheep
In the fight with drought and heat;
For a streak of stubbornness, wide and deep,
Lies hid in a grain of Wheat.
When the stock is swept by the hand of fate,
Deep down in his bed of clay
The brave brown Wheat will lie and wait
For the resurrection day:
Lie hid while the whole world thinks him dead;
But the Spring-rain, soft and sweet,
Will over the steaming paddocks spread
The first green flush of the Wheat.
Green and amber and gold it grows
When the sun sinks late in the West;
And the breeze sweeps over the rippling rows
Where the quail and the skylark nest.
Mountain or river or shining star,
There’s never a sight can beat—
Away to the sky-line stretching far—
A sea of the ripening Wheat.
When the burning harvest sun sinks low,
And the shadows stretch on the plain,
The roaring strippers come and go
Like ships on a sea of grain;
Till the lurching, groaning waggons bear
Their tale of the load complete.
Of the world’s great work he has done his share
Who has gathered a crop of wheat.
Princes and Potentates and Czars,
They travel in regal state,
But old King Wheat has a thousand cars
For his trip to the water-gate;
And his thousand steamships breast the tide
And plough thro’ the wind and sleet
To the lands where the teeming millions bide
That say: “Thank God for Wheat!”
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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What Are True Riches?
Gold Finances Possessions
are not true wealth.
Give them to a dog the dog
does not care.
Food Food matters
to the dog.
The dog wants to eat
as do
the starving millions.
Gold Money Possessions
we cannot eat them.
Wise words of inspiration
focused wisdom
can change and enrich society.
A country without art
an appreciation
of what great civilizations
have said through art
is not worth living in.
What of the third world?
The topic cries for attention.
It is not pompous vanity
that divides nations.
Policies of the IMF are deliberate
it is deliberate
calculated greed and indifference.
The price the environment
and poor
people of this planet have paid
is soon evidently...
going to haunt us.
The amazingly thing is
world powers
are deliberately inflicting...
this suffering upon other nations.
The technology resources
and money needed
to resolve these issues...
was available.
Superpowers would rather
rule a rubbish heap
than share a paradise earth.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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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Harvest time
Pillowed and hushed on the silent plain,
Wrapped in her mantle of golden grain,
Wearied of pleasuring weeks away,
Summer is lying asleep to-day,--
Where winds come sweet from the wild-rose briers
And the smoke of the far-off prairie fires;
Yellow her hair as the goldenrod,
And brown her cheeks as the prairie sod;
Purple her eyes as the mists that dream
At the edge of some laggard sun-drowned stream;
But over their depths the lashes sweep,
For Summer is lying to-day asleep.
The north wind kisses her rosy mouth,
His rival frowns in the far-off south,
And comes caressing her sunburnt cheek,
And Summer awakes for one short week,--
Awakes and gathers her wealth of grain,
Then sleeps and dreams for a year again.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Sonnet: Parables of Jesus: Grain of Wheat
Unless a grain of wheat is sown in soil,
And dies, decays, transforms, gets life anew,
And sprouts into a sapling through one's toil,
It cannot grow to bear fruits that are due!
The grain of wheat remains as such, if not:
Like selfish men who will not do God's will;
Serve God usefully, they simply cannot,
Nor granary at harvest-time, they fill.
Like grain of wheat, men have God's will to do;
Like Jesus, they must carry cross till death;
Like Saviour Christ, they will resurrect too,
And fulfill purpose for which God gave birth!
But Christ died on the cross for mankind's sins,
And love of man, and Father's obeisance!
poem by John Celes
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For my country
What can I do or pray for my country?
Millions are starving and remain hungry
Precious time and money is spent on storage
The food grain is thrown away as garbage
We watch the show as very much disgusting
It is rotting in open ground and rusting
Not a single soul is raising voice
Where the words have gone with promises?
Plenty of grain is available
We can preserve stock and are capable
We do nothing to prevent the loss
We simply pray for only curse
Forget about economy and figures
What is in store for future?
How long you want people should die?
Do we have no remorse to feel shy?
We want to turn state into Welfare Empire
World is watching with and cutting satire
We are making it living hell for the poor
They have no place to go and find no door
Land grabbers and hoarders are enjoying heaven
Far cry and agony is not heard even
Politician make far reaching cry and remain silent
Humanity is on wane and completely absent
They see more profits in deaths
Even flowers have markets to lay wreath
Nothing is cheap and what is more ion demand?
All inferior quality products with famous brands
Who make take us to safety without tall promises?
When the loop holes will be filled with all the misses?
Earth has responded well with our sweat toil
Why are we hell bent upon to spoil?
Many more may die in days to come
Prices will be sky rocketing and welcomed
Death may welcome than living on ground
Is there any new formula to make for us or to be found?
Let us do no more curses?
We must feel ashamed of ourselves
How many millions more we would love to accumulate?
When your own existence has nothing to take credit or relate?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Hum
Take me, share me if you can
my heart goes to my sun,
my feet will go to my moon.
O, little home
my dream was bigger than you
in the melody of sorrow.
Will I walk again on the
wrinkled sands? what can you
visualize, which I have never seen?
Praying in the scoop
of fingers I feel, gold nuggets
in the throes of doubts –
neatly dug out from the frozen
past, birds, smelling sex, souls
suspended in air.
Was it beginning of hate,
on the yellow mountains
where I am climbing with wooden legs?
poem by Satish Verma
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Production Process Inefficiencies
millions die wanting
millions die starving
millions die hurting
in an inefficient world?
now it is raining
luxury fruits
cherries peaches
blemish on trees
never sold
never eaten
never saves lives
harvest
process
efficiency
serves
needy
hungry
populati ons
poem by Terence George Craddock
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They are starving for happiness
They are starving for happiness
Their belly is full of mess
Joy is their food
Without it their dead
Starving all way of hunger
Cry in every saw they looked
Fingers are in cold, shivering
They are starving for happiness
Mind looked in every crying eye
Drops let fall. As they saw
No mistakes done, no wonder
They are starving for happiness
Open hair, all scenes amazing
No soft blow of air, nothing
They can’t survive more
They are starving for happiness
Heart full of sorrows, no glow
Hands red, can’t move long
Lot of hunger, full of blood
They are starving for happiness
poem by Monica kulal
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Grain In Open
Millions may bless you for gesture
I am confident and very sure
Their bellies are hungry and starve
We can see it on stomach with deep inside curve
It may look illogical
Yet it is question for survival
Absolutely in our own hand
With little change in approach and trend
How much food grain is allowed to rot?
Why not preventive measures be taken on the spot?
I hear reports that grain stock is dumped in the sea
Only to maintain artificial price but thrown away free
Thousands perish for the want of food
For humanity sake this is shameful and not good
Let hungry get some grain even if at some cost!
Save hungry people before they are dead and lost
Grain is stored in open and laid to waste
Insects make it unhygienic and lead to bad taste
Not fit for anything but offered for human consumption
Everything is lost only because of faulty assumption
If little care is taken for preservation
Will power not show but for demonstration
This of those poor countries diverting funds
Not able to cope yet take care of people on the ground
Can any one say this is impossible?
Our current trend is illogical and reversible?
I suggest for building public opinion
Force the governments to help with total disregard to religion
Let some price for grain be quoted
But grain should not be off load in sea and floated
Let people consume and survive on this earth
Why do we want to push them to meet the avoidable death?
If one man can be convinced then it can turn lot many
There may be involvement or consideration for money
But let us rise above pretty consideration and not allow grain to rot
I am sure of the view that hunger can be tackled successfully and fought
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Sonnet: The World has Aplenty
The earth has place for more people to live;
Its trees have wood for more houses to build;
Its soil can generate more food and give;
There isn’t a dearth of good souls for a guild.
The rivers have fresh-water plentiful;
The earth has much reserve of oil and ore;
If peace prevails, earth looks so beautiful;
The rich nations cannot the poor ignore.
The money/ food wastage can millions feed;
Each man must love his neighbor honestly;
The brotherhood of nations is the need;
The human race is one and one must be!
Wake up humans! There is no time to waste;
Let not your greed enslave others in haste!
6-2-2001
poem by John Celes
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And you prate of the wealth of nations, as if it were bought and sold, The wealth of nations is men, not silk and cotton and gold.
quote by Richard Hovey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hungry Ghost Festival
human are hungry animals
born with hungry heart
crying out loud
for warmth and tenderness
human are lonely creatures
living with hungry mind
tired
about loneliness and boredom
human are hungry ghosts
starving because
fear and uncertainty
they eat food
they read books
they shop goods
they change looks
they search money
they shape brain
they talk freedom
they hold religion
they hear music
they rule power
they play heart
they fight till limits
they use everything in this world
to fulfill the need
to escape from sorrow and sadness
human are hungry souls
hungry to love and to be loved
the first hunger never gone
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Corn Song
HEAP HIGH the farmer’s wintry hoard!
Heap high the golden corn!
No richer gift has Autumn poured
From out her lavish horn!
Let other lands, exulting, glean
The apple from the pine,
The orange from its glossy green,
The cluster from the vine;
We better love the hardy gift
Our rugged vales bestow,
To cheer us when the storm shall drift
Our harvest-fields with snow.
Through vales of grass and meads of flowers
Our ploughs their furrows made,
While on the hills the sun and showers
Of changeful April played.
We dropped the seed o’er hill and plain
Beneath the sun of May,
And frightened from our sprouting grain
The robber crows away.
All through the long, bright days of June
Its leaves grew green and fair,
And waved in hot midsummer’s noon
Its soft and yellow hair.
And now, with autumn’s moonlit eves,
Its harvest-time has come,
We pluck away the frosted leaves,
And bear the treasure home.
There, richer than the fabled gift
Apollo showered of old,
Fair hands the broken grain shall sift,
And knead its meal of gold.
Let vapid idlers loll in silk
Around their costly board;
Give us the bowl of samp and milk,
By homespun beauty poured!
Where’er the wide old kitchen hearth
Sends up its smoky curls,
Who will not thank the kindly earth
And bless our farmer girls?
Then shame on all the proud and vain,
Whose folly laughs to scorn
The blessing of our hardy grain,
Our wealth of golden corn!
Let earth withhold her goodly root,
Let mildew blight the rye,
Give to the worm the orchard’s fruit,
The wheat-field to the fly:
But let the good old crop adorn
The hills our fathers trod;
Still let us, for His golden corn,
Send up our thanks to God!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Hard Knocks
(words & music by j. byers)
Some kids born with a silver spoon
I guess that I was born a little too soon
Hard knocks, all I ever knew was hard knocks
And Im telling you, I said youd better beware
cause Ive had my share
Some kids born as rich as a king
But I was born without a doggone thing
Hard knocks, all I ever knew was hard knocks
And Im telling you, I said youd better beware
cause Ive had my share
I walked a million miles I bet
Tired and hungry and cold and wet
Ive heard that lonesome whistle blow
From new york city down to mexico
Some kids born fancy free
Nobody never gave nothing to me but
Hard knocks, all I ever knew was hard knocks
And Im telling you, I said youd better beware
cause Ive had my share
I walked a million miles I bet
Tired and hungry and cold and wet
Ive heard that lonesome whistle blow
From new york city down to mexico
Some kids born fancy free
Nobody never gave nothing to me but
Hard knocks, all I ever knew was hard knocks
And Im telling you, I said youd better beware
cause Ive had my share
I said youd better beware
cause Ive had my share
I said youd better beware
cause Ive had my share of hard knocks
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sobs Of The Starving Children
We know about them from the radio and television and the hungry getting hungrier by the day
But we do not hear the sobs of the starving children from where we live they seem so far away
On the six o clock news at times we do see footage of hungry
children in a Land where poverty and disease is rife
And we feel a twinge of sadness that we cannot help them since we have got our own struggles in life.
Still the sobs of the hungry children are growing louder and
not all of them live in a far Country
And not all of them in the slums of the big city there's such a thing as hidden poverty
The single mother raises her brood on welfare and she has to struggle for to make ends meet
And they survive on bread and tea and milk and cornflakes since she cannot afford to buy them meat.
Banks and corporations make billions in yearly profits and we read and hear of their financial gain
But they don't help to feed the starving children and the growing scourge of poverty remain
A mile from where the billionaire lives there's poverty and hunger yet of their plight he does not wish to know
Still for him to grow wealthier others must grow poorer and
life goes on as it did years ago.
To find want you don't have that far to travel for poverty is everywhere and near
And though the starving children keep on sobbing louder their cries for food we do not seem to hear
And sad to say that those who talk and dream of an egalitarian society will never live to see their dreams come true
And in a World where there is want and hunger the majority of the World's wealth still with the wealthy few.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Nations Wealth = 2012
A nations wealth is not it's wheat, oil or gold
But the people who live there both young and old.
Their wealth is a product of mans daily toil
Be they swing wars saber or plow God's soil.
Our riches can certainly grow their own wings
Though it's love that keeps us happy not things.
When we become rich beyond our wildest dreams
That's when Satan always pursues us it seems.
Let no one fall victim to their surplus wealth
For when it happens they'll find they've lost their health.
All wealth either serves or governs its holder
As we who strive wear life's cross on our shoulder.
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Who Gave you Inhuman Rights?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to the SriLankan army
to sever the heads of innocent boys
and set fire to the heaps of their corpses
at Mullivaikal and other places?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to rip the limbs of children,
the womenfolk and the old
and litter everywhere
for the vultures to eat or to rot?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to rape the wives of
the surrendered rebels
before their very eyes,
torture and kill them all?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to some mindless nations
to supply chemical weapons
to the brutal army of Lanka
to wage a genocidal war?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to the shameless soldiers of Lanka
to maul and cut off the feeding breasts
and shoot at the sacred organs
of the women and the rebels?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to the morons born to strumpets,
to shut the women and girls
in fenced-camps, starve
and lure them with food packets?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to drive out the ailing Tamils
from their traditional lands
and colonise with roguish monks
and Sinhalese convicts and goons?
Who can deny rights to Tamils elsewhere
to wage a war against these criminals
when the UNO is blind to these violations,
as some vested interests and bigots
have a stake in this blood-stained soil?
---------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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If only I pass into nothingness
Should turn up in my memory wheat grain crops,
blonde waves inspire me everlasting wavings,
the bird`s song : the field – a big dissoluteness,
the days` south secretly between us does sift it(...)
Should I look into the thought`s depth : a river
which lightens Undeath – spend my years,
and I have your face like the seaside of the wheat ears:
an icon, that it steals my everything – time!
If only I pass into nothingness,
I will remember you for ever
rich soil for love –
my seaside-longing!,
blonde dreamings will sift you –
young(...)
when,
I –
forgetten
seagulls
should I be food and f l y.
poem by Dumitru Găleșanu from Emotions into Multiverse (25 July 2010), translated by Adrian Constantinescu
Submitted by anonym
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