Gift to human being
Life is precious Gift to human being
It is dear to all even to poor or king
You may be over ambitious or enterprising
But make sure it is not less promising
Not all people get with whatever they want
Some times they deserve and sometimes don’t
At some level you start to loose your patience
So far you had love and showed so much compassion
You decided to donate generously
You worked hard for destitute and poor continuously
Some of the people are remembered even posthumously
The life was devoted to others and taken very seriously
People from distance observe you minutely
It has come to their mind very lately
You have fame and so much to show to world
So you are taken as model, exemplary and very bold
You might have been compelled to work for free
You knew how noble it is to work like tree?
You made it as daily routine and went ahead
People praised your work and wanted you to lead
It is perceptional difference and exist very much
They are sufferers, view it differently as such
You are devoted to mainly for your satisfaction
They watch and dream about you to become with inclination
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Related quotes
Two Different People
Two different people
Black people, white people
Black world, White world
A black person thinks different from the white people
White people thinks highly of himself
White people works very hard for his living
Black's are lazy
They don't want to work, they just want the money
You have to work for the money, they just don't get it
White people knows that there are no free ride in life
Black's want a free ride, there are no free ride in life
Nothing is free in life except for the air that you breathe
The white people have to be careful of what they say to the black People
Whatever you say to the black people if they don't like it they will say it Is discrimination
We can't understand them
They have a mind of their own
The white people are loving and caring
What about the black people?
Not a hope in hell
I don't want any part of the black world
The black world is not safe for me
So I rather stay in my white world where I feel safe
We can't trust them
The reason why there is violence in this world is because the black People cause it
Now they don't like it because they have to live with it
We want a safe world for our people
The black people don't care about it because the only thing they know And seen is violence
There is too much violence on TV
They like it
They like the feeling of danger
We white don't like the feeling of danger
The blacks hate the white people and the white people don't like them Either
The white people knows when to shut up
The black people never knows when to shut up
There is why there are always problem with them
They make life miserable for us
The white people will always be a good friend
The black people can never be your friend
They will take everything they can get from you for free
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Some People
Some people seem to have it all
Some people always have to crawl
Some people pay to be abused
Some people end up destitute
Some people search their souls for truth
Some people try to be of use
Some people pray before they kill
Some people kill just for the thrill
Some people follow one mans vision, some others die on television
Some people build their homes on sand, some people live in garbage cans
Some people think that live is dear, some people hope the end is near
Some people fight for right to life, some people hate to stay alive
Some people dream of life on mars, some people end their life in cars
Some people throw their lives away, some others go on holidays
Some people live and love in vain, some people dont and go insane
Some people always need to win, some other people love to sin
Some people breaking all their vows, some people slashing sacred cows
Some people like to worship stars, some people think the worlds a farce
Some people try to make ends meet, some others end up kissing feet
Some people find their holy grail, some other people go to hell
Some people never catch their breath, some people drink themselves to death
Some people seem to have it all, some people always have to crawl
Some people pay to be abused, some people end up destitute
Some people search their souls for truth
Some people try to be of use
Some people
!
Gold/ocean/1994
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Ask Me About It
You ask me about it I have wondered why
So many never know of material success though hard they do try
They work hard and grow old and fade out and die
Is the theory of hard work based on success something based on a lie.
The prime years of life quickly do tick away
They work hard to raise their children then grow old and gray
The woman on average by a few years does outlive her man
Three score and ten years the average human life span.
So many work hard just for survival pay
And the gap between the haves and have nots gets wider every day
And so many hungry for each millionaire
It is a rat race in the big World out there.
You ask me why some people struggle through life
The poor working man and his poor working wife
On their meagre incomes their family must survive
On the sweat of the workers the bosses do thrive.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Pack Of Lies
That from hard work and endeavour up the social rank you will rise
To me anyhow does seem a pack of lies
'Tis just an old cliche that and nothing more
That some like to quote and we have heard before.
Even in so called prosperous Countries today
Some of the hardest working people work for survival pay
Many honest and willing workers living in poverty
Life for them seems unfair that's how 'twould seem to me.
Many of who on the theory of hard work believe
Say if you do not work hard from life you cannot receive
Yet many of the billionaires of mining and property development and oil
Have never experienced the hardship of toil.
Just an antiquated cliche it does seem indeed
That those who work hardest in life do succeed
The underpaid workers create many a billionaire
For millions around the World life does seem unfair.
I know of an old bloke who has worked hard in his working life
And he struggled for to pay for the funeral of his wife
Just one more poor hard worker his type are everywhere
There are millions of them in the big World out there.
poem by Francis Duggan
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What for is money?
I thought on how could be the life
Without having to work for money.
After all this is the money which we work for.
Had we only have enough money to spend
We won’t have to toil our body or brain.
Solution also seemed very easy to me.
Just have a lot of mints to mint money.
Make as much money as may people need
Give them as much as may people want.
All problems are seemingly soon gone.
The root of all evils I thought could be
the root of happiness of all kind instead.
“How could this easy way out be overlooked? ”
Thinking furthermore I thought.
We need mints and we need paper and ink.
We need banks and a lot of ATMs.
People will get money and go for shopping
So we need ample shops. In shops we need products.
We need make shops and we need make products.
but we also need people to run them.
So some people will make paper and some ink.
Some other will work in mints and banks.
Some will work in shops and making products.
Rest all the people will only happily buy things.
Thinking up to here my thought jumbled.
People needed money so they worked.
If money was available for doing no work
Then why should there be anyone to work?
If no one works then where from comes paper and ink?
Where from comes money, banksand ATMs?
Where from then comes products?
Without products how could then we live and enjoy?
So we need products and for products we need to work,
to get people into the works we need money.
So it was that money could not be made free.
I thought 'People have already thought it before me.'
poem by Palas kumar Ray
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Work To Do!
i came from a generation
that worked.... was born to
work, daylight to dawn,
for everything we had.
we grew our own food, we
cut firewood, we worked
with our hands.
we were taught to work...
we built houses, bridges,
paved roads... worked on
farms, worked in sawmills,
worked in factories...
whatever it took for food
and shelter...
and if a neighbor got hurt,
or sick, and couldnt work...
we helped him and his family
till he could.
those of us left who can work
are still working, a lot of us are
out of work, and cant find work!
and so the world has changed...
it seems like a lot of people
spend more time avoiding work
than working... a lot of people
look for the easy way out...are
dependent on society...
still a lot of good and willing people
just need help.
they call this progress...based
on technology, and looking out for
number one. seperated, almost islands...
greed has taken the place of the bent back!
so when it all falls apart, and that will
be soon, what happens? who knows how
to survive? who has the backbone?
things to think about, and yes...
work to do!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young people are threatened... by the evil use of advertising techniques that stimulate the natural inclination to avoid hard work by promising the immediate satisfaction of every desire.
quote by Pope John Paul II
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Saint Jeanne Jugan (Foundress of ‘Little Sisters of the Poor’)
When four, she lost her father while at sea!
Her mother worked hard, raising family!
She grew in France amidst Revolution;
Her love of God was her life’s solution.
She cared for sick and poor elderly souls,
By assuming the humblest of earth’s roles!
Young Jeanne Jugan grew up a shepherdess;
Her love for Jesus made her a Foundress!
With heart aflame with fire of love for God,
She sacrificed her life for Jesus Lord!
Through exemplary life, she showed the world
That love of God was worth more than all gold.
The elderly poor needed love and care;
So, young Jeanne chose the road traveled quite rare.
Her charity became a noble cause;
She worked for poor without making a pause.
It was a time when violence was rife,
And begging was common by those in strife;
She followed Christ, carrying her cross of life,
And served the poor and downtrodden all life.
Her name was ‘Sister Mary of the cross! ’
All life, Christ Jesus Lord was her one boss!
‘Come to my aid, O God, ’ she prayed and cried
all life in humility, till she died!
A Saint for elderly and every age,
She wrote her life upon a golden page;
She saw the Lord in every poor man’s face,
And served God through her love of human race!
‘God wanted her all for Himself, ’ she said,
‘And kept her for a work yet unfounded! ’
On October eleven, two thousand nine,
The Blessed Jeanne Jugan became a Saint!
Dedicated fondly in memory of the Sister Saint.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 10-25-2009
poem by John Celes
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Gospel of Dr.K.verghese
(Father of white revolution in India)
It may take years to build new house
But may take few seconds to bulldoze
You go on working and be logical
Let people remain selfish and illogical
Your noble work may be forgotten tomorrow
But you continue to love them and grow
People may level charges against for exemplary show
But you go on contributing level best and flow
You may invite trouble for straight forwardness and honesty
Even then stand fast and believe in working honestly
Always contribute best to the world
But face the brickbats, insults and get scold
Great people have always suffered from narrow psychology
Even then don't leave your approach with progressive ideology
Although the new method can be looked upon as an old
Still you adopt new approach and present its initiation very bold
People boost of themselves by presenting as messiah for downtrodden
But in fact they are worried for themselves and worship only influential
You go on working with formula for the welfare of poor and down trodden
It is possible you may run into rough weather and it shall not turn into reality
You may find unreal and fake friends upon getting glorious success
But the true foes may surface later on to have greed for an easy access
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Should have not
As a male I should have not cried
All tears put out and eyes got dried
Something really worried from inside
I wanted some one close to confide
It is human mind that weeps
All sentimental tears do not keep
Within or forcefully contained
It is helplessness that has been maintained
Draughts and river floods cause anxiety
Earth quakes and bomb blasts make to feel sorry
Crush of freedom and liberty causes the anguish
Little tease troubles heart to pump the blood and finish
Medical aid is rushed to the troubled spot
People donate generously in quantity and lot
That shows how much we care for our brethren elsewhere
Show the solidarity and voice concern everywhere
To loose human life is serious loss
As it has not occurred due to natural cause
We are concerned with unnatural deaths
Where for little negligence we have to lay a wreath
Human heart stays with full of compassion
Shows love and attachment with obsession
We may be living far off from each other
Yet we wish them good luck and bother
Not all the people may be leading descent way
There may be so much pain to bear with in the way
A life is worst than animal yet we call it human
It can be understood as living hell by even layman
Let us form human chain all over the world
Where such events are noted and all over told
It is our main concern to rush for the rescue
Life has been termed as precious so deserves to be viewed
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Just Smile
Just smile for the world ….
The world is wide and beautiful if you look with satisfaction
Just smile for the people
The people are good for you and for others if you treated them with good and clear
Just smile for the work
Work will provide you with activity and movement and prevent you to ask the people.
Just smile for hope
Hope is everywhere, we live by, and its life to continue
Just smile for your self
You are a wonderful human being.. Active.. Clever.. Lover of good.. Loving people
If you smile the others will be happy
Just smile
You have the smile key, and with it you can enter the beautiful world, and see the light, bright and Zephyr
Stay beautiful view, beautiful presence
poem by Akram Awadat
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Too Many People
(tennant/lowe)
-------------------
I sometimes think that Im too many people
Too many people, too many people
I sometimes think that Im too many people
Too many people, too many people at once
The husband or the hedonist
The businessman or the communist
The artist or the showbiz creep
The lover or the nervous geek
The question of identity is one thats always haunted me
Whoever I decide to be depends on who is with me
I sometimes think that Im too many people
Too many people, too many people
I sometimes think that Im too many people
Too many people, too many people at once
The tactless twit putting his foot in it
Or the sensitive soul whos a role model
The urban jet setter - never at home
Or the country recluse - just leave me alone
Extrovert or introvert
Love is kind, and love hurts
Rebellion or conformity
What is my identity?
I sometimes think that Im too many people
Too many people, too many people
I sometimes think that Im too many people
Too many people, too many people at once
The intellectual and bon-viveur
Or the naive simpleton, so immature
A devoted son and family man
Or the wicked uncle who doesnt give a damn
How often these have tempted me
The question of identity depends on what Im meant to be
I sometimes think that Im too many people
Too many people, too many people
I sometimes think that Im too many people
Too many people, too many people at once
I sometimes think that Im too many people
Too many people, too many people
I sometimes think that Im too many people
Too many people, too many people at once
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Our Future
They were real kings
His Highness majesty who could sing
Turn the fortune and change the fate
They had everything at disposal to relate
They left it behind
For world to find
To help the poor
And worked from door to door
They were great and may be remembered
For their contribution and what they have offered
To live with peace and brotherhood
In life they practiced and understood
They were real supporter
To work for people as porter
Carry out their plight and pain
Into life of their own
With great vision and mission
The great Ashoka made frank admission
'Love and compassion is the only way'
Hatred must go away
We on our part
Can pick little from their humanitarian art
At least to show some compassion
If not deteriorate but build the good relation
We need stable world
To live with unison and in one fold
Not to speak with threatening posture
But to build world for our future
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Work To Work
Happy too
Work...
Un happy too
work...
Love too
Woork...
With out love too
Work...
Silentely work...
Tenson to work...
Peace too work...
Diperession to work...
Work with work...
Any time do any
Work...
Work is give for
Human...
Relax and releave...
Sad too work...
Woory too work...
Work too work...
Work is wondrfully
Changed your and your's life
Each every day
Don't take un wanted rest
With your's lazey...
Lazy making
Sad... dipression...
Tenson...
Useless thinking...
So...
Work is wonder fully
Chnage to change for your's...
Mind and thinking and your's life...
Woo
Work to work with you
And other's...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.
Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’
Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
‘You’re fired! ’ He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangman’s rope!
So now I’m free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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What I Am Is God’s Gift, What I Become Is My Gift To God
WHAT I AM IS GOD’S GIFT, WHAT I BECOME IS MY GIFT TO GOD
What I am is God’s gift, what I become is my gift to God tells us that our own body and the life that breath in our body is God’s precious gift to us but what this body can become and what sense or impact of our being as a person to others and to God is our gift to the Almighty. Our own body and life is our own gift from God on the day of our creation from womb till we joined this world to become what we want to mirror in this journey of life. God has given us all the provisions to live and all the faculties we need to grow as a person. He gave us a body strong enough to withstand trials of life like illness, sorrows and pains to keep us not so much fragile to anything that we can paint our own journey in this life. No doubt the life we breath is indeed God’s most precious gift to all of us. Precious than anything like glittering gold or diamonds. Our life is really beyond compare being the ultimate reasons God had created this world and the very reason why He gave his only begotten Son to secure and protect such gift to all of us. Truly, our own life is our gift from God but what we become as a person is our gift in return to God.
What we wanted to become in the eyes of men and God is our gift in return to such noble and precious gift of life we had from God. Our body is the temple of God’s Kingdom when we let our soul glitter like diamond upon the eyes of God if sense of righteousness lives within every breath we take as we deal with other people and so with God. It is how we used this body as an instrument to fulfill our own mission in this life through our own vocation, work or services we take is our gift to God. Everything we do in this life in the service to other people and to God is our own gift to the Almighty. Everything we do to the temple of God’s Kingdom, our body, determines the impact of our sense of being as a person in the eyes of God and men. Truly, if we wanted to be looked upon as a glittering diamond in the yes of God and men, we must live in righteousness upholding all the fundamental truth and wisdom of God as we relate with other people and as we serve with prudence sharing our life and services to others.
Our own sense of being, purpose or mission through our various ways, vocations or services is the way how we return our gratitude and appreciation to our gift of life from God. The way how we share our own life to give life and light to others is our gift to God. Make this life then shine for others and to God for it is our own little way of returning the favor of God’s grace and love to us.
poem by Melvin Banggollay
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May 1, 2020, International Labor Day during the coronavirus, the largest teletransformation experiment in the world of work, a test that, if it works, will change man's destiny forever.
People need to work where they want to get good results, both in the office and in the family.
Work helps you lead a happy life close to the people you love.
Camelia Oprița
Submitted by Camelia Oprița
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Indignations
My Lord and I decided...
That we were so divided
And He took me aside
And told me to boost my pride!
I told Him I was weakened,
By everyday life...
And 'tripping' people sneaking.
I wanted to hold on,
But something in my life was gone.
I was wrong.
And He whispered..
Don't let what other people say or see.
If they knew about Me
They would send a pray My way.
But they wont listen to a word in peace.
And I am not about that,
Get yourself right back on track.
Don't let this go or fade away.
Devoted loyalty to Him I need to keep,
But it's tempting to pretend
That the Lord is not listening to me.
Then He sent me a miracle.
I saw myself alone.
Without God in my home.
Then He sent me a miracle.
I saw my every step...
Without God there protecting me.
Yes He sent me a miracle
That showed my journey blocked,
Without My Savior or my faith
There to shock and stop these deeds!
He sent me a miracle...
That showed me
Without God,
I wouldn't be!
This is the miracle God made me see!
Without this miracle there would be no us,
To call we!
Or self-righteous indignations shared.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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People Expect Too Much From Me
aug,11,2010
people expect me to be perfect,
because i'm smart,
people expect me to get good grades,
because of all the hard work i put in,
people expect me to have my own business,
because i can be talented and creative,
people expect me to be a push over,
rather than a girl who speaks her mind,
people expect me to be something i'm not,
but all i can be is only myself,
people expect me to deal with life,
i can only deal with it the best i can,
people expect me to handle more than i can,
but who is it really for or what do i have to prove?
people expect me to be who they want,
but did they ever stop to think of what i wanted?
poem by Mona Martinez
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Let South Africa be our country again
Let South Africa be our country again
and South Africans from all over the world
stream back,
to dream here like before,
to hope, to wish
of a place
not bordered of by burglar bars
where people can stay free
before God and man.
Let merit and respect be present
and people receive what they deserve
rather than expecting affirmative-action
and mercy from others
and the whole world
and like in the past
let us successfully do our own thing.
Let opportunities really exist
to be free in work,
living and association,
to study in your own language,
let us pull the teeth of the dogs
that rips others apart to rule,
of might that shatters the weak.
Let the animal inside us die
and we really become people
that does not burn each other,
crush and vituperate
and in groups jeering urge the killing on
and do not rob, but work
for the life that we have got.
Let we break the chains
of people ruling
with profit, might
and work people into the ground
and misuse others to gain prosperity.
I am the white Afrikaner that had to fight in war
and now are unemployed and hungry,
while I have a university degree.
I am the black man that without education
have to dig holes and man garbage trucks
and conclude my life in a shack.
I am the coloured that always stand between all groups
and do not know where I belong
and rather gather in gangs.
I am the South African that life
drives down the whole time
and have to pray all the time,
to know how to carry on.
l’Envoi
Still, I am the one that dream
of a country free from crime,
where everybody have equal opportunity,
where rape, corruption
and lawlessness ends
and where South Africa is our country again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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