Compulsive Obsession
The miser sits and counts his gold
well wrapped in rags against the cold.
He has no fire he lacks the sense
He cannot bear to spend his pence.
He dines upon stale bread and cheese
sometimes porridge made from peas
to satisfy his appetite.
His bags of coin his one delight.
He has no friends he trusts no man
for they will rob him if they can.
He lives in abject poverty
to spend a coin is misery.
I do not envy him his gold
a bitter man who’s heart is cold.
I share what little comes my way
I cannot make my few pence stay.
But count my self a wealthy man
The miser save all that he can
and lives alone in misery.
I think that he should envy me.
8-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
New take on Blake for My Friend Amy
Little lamb who made thee?
Made thee tender, tasty and sweet,
made thee very good to eat.
A little lamb well pleaseth me
with new potatoes mint and peas.
It satisfies my appetite,
there is no better way to please.
A hungry man who has the right
to have his hunger satisfied
When he’s been hard at work all day.
With tender meat thou hast supplied,
which has been cooked his favourite way.
I do not know my little lamb
but I am glad.I truly am.
18-Sep-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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At your Service
The road I take a lonely road.
I have no friends or relatives
Nor have I any fixed abode.
my only purpose ending lives.
I do not choose which lives to take
Contrarywise they call on me
to bring an end to their heartache.
When life’s become a misery
If they are living in great pain
and have no way of gaining ease
A burden too much to sustain.
They welcome me I bring release
When you find life too much to bear.
Just call to me and I will hear.
26-Oct-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Do You Really Like A Free Meal?
you like free meals
they taste so well
nothing is bitter
everything is sweet
why do you like a free meal?
you save much for yourself.
why do you save much and not
spend anything for yourself?
you are into the vice of misery.
You are the miser storing much
and still beg for more
hence the free meal.
there is no such thing as a free meal
if you only know the real score
you could not have eaten that free meal on the table.
everyday you eat this unnecessary gratitude
tomorrow you shall pay it
with what? your dignity,
even your whole life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Free Meal?
you like free meals
they taste so well
nothing is bitter
everything is sweet
why do you like a free meal?
you save much for yourself.
why do you save much and not
spend anything for yourself?
you are into the vice of misery.
You are the miser storing much
and still beg for more
hence the free meal.
there is no such thing as a free meal
if you only know the real score
you could not have eaten that free meal on the table.
everyday you eat this unnecessary gratitude
tomorrow you shall pay it
with what? your dignity,
even your whole life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Losing One's Dignity
you like free meals
they taste so well
nothing is bitter
everything is sweet
why do you like a free meal?
you save much for yourself.
why do you save much and not
spend anything for yourself?
you are into the vice of misery.
You are the miser storing much
and still beg for more
hence the free meal.
there is no such thing as a free meal
if you only know the real score
you could not have eaten that free meal on the table.
everyday you eat this unnecessary gratitude
tomorrow you shall pay it
with what? your dignity, even your whole life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Crying From Misery
The miser has concussion when sick,
It is unholy and right if you end;
It contains blessings, the world,
When holiness has defeated;
We are holy, and they are so unholy,
The miser has concussion when sick
Too sick he is that it matters.
The misery of babies is like angelic crying,
You have divine nature when child
And lose when miserable more,
Like an angel it is, then adults shall change,
When babies were also them, also them.
The misery of babies is like angelic crying.
The miser has concussion when sick,
The misery of babies is like angelic crying.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The miser does not own the gold, it is the gold that owns the miser.
The Hungry Sea
The Hungry Sea.
The fog descends and spitefully blots out the harsh reality.
Of the hidden rocks and shoals that lie in wait to drown poor souls
Who are familiar with this coast which has claimed now more lives than most
When the sea fret hides the sea, the sad foghorn sound dismally.
The local fishermen are wise, but can be taken by surprise.
The dense fog muffles the warning sound and fishing boats can run aground.
The sea fret and the cold North Sea can work together readily
Malevolence personified they seem to take a perverse pride
in drowning honest sailor men for reasons far beyond out ken.
Despite modern technology.The sea fret and the hungry sea
demand their yearly sacrifice, and sailormen must pay the price.
It has been so for centuries recorded in the histories
which been written in the past by men who sailed before the mast.
The sea and sea fret are allied and they cannot be satisfied
Until the yearly toll is paid.This will not change I am afraid.
We try but cannot guarantee safety for those who sail the sea.
Along this coast where dangers lie.The ancient rules will still apply.
The sea won’t curb her appetite for she believes she has the right.
To take the sailor lives she takes, by forcing them to make mistakes.
The sea fret and the hungry sea will always win it seems to me,
4-Oct-08.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Happpy Heretic
The seven deadly sins must be.
Reserved for Cardinals and such
who are completely out of touch
with everyday reality
For they believe apparently.
That greed is asking far too much
but gluttony can be a crutch
for those who live in misery
And seeming sloth could be M.E.
Rendered blind by their own pride,
They raise their voice in righteous wrath.
I think perhaps they envy me
because I do not have to hide
my sins. I’m free to choose my path.
18-Oct-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 72
Gold is obtained from a mine by digging it, but from a miser by digging the soul.
Vile men spend not, but preserve.
They say hope of spending is better than spending.
One day thou seest the wish of the foe fulfilled
The gold remaining and the vile man dead.
Wealthy Man Don't Hoard Your Money
Some one else will own your property when you are dead and gone
The day you die the World won't stop life it will carry on
You've made it big, you've reached the top, you're plutocratic kind
But wealthy guy you too must die and leave your wealth behind.
You came out of your mother free of guilt and evil sin
But now you're just a money hoarder like all other greedy men,
Your dreams of wealth have all come true you are now a millionaire
But moneyed man you too will die as sure as cows wear hair.
There's nothing wrong with money without money man can't live
But in a man there must be what is known as take and give
And just like all other greedy men you never give but take
And the more money you accumulate the more you want to make.
Wealthy man don't hoard your money, don't be scared to spend a pound
Or someone else will spend it for you when your bones rest underground
Everybody hates a miser, no one loves a greedy soul
And you too will be forgotten when you're placed in earthy hole.
poem by Francis Duggan
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August 1914
What in our lives is burnt
In the fire of this?
The heart’s dear granary?
The much we shall miss?
Three lives hath one life –
Iron, honey, gold.
The gold, the honey gone –
Left is the hard and cold.
Iron are our lives
Molten right through our youth.
A burnt space through ripe fields
A fair mouth’s broken tooth
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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Don't pay a single gold coin for the sorrell, but when he's good, be ready to spend a fortune.
Miser
I had the money
To buy aplenty
And I did spend
On buying gold
For the temple deity.
Prayed, I diligently
Every morning of
Every day,
Even my night
Ended in prayers
To the almighty.
I spent lavishly
On incense,
To get the best
Fragrance ~
For my favourite
Gods – Rama, Krishna
And Sai Baba.
I made sure the
Purohits had
Enough booty
From my share of wealth
To perform
All the holy functions
Impeccably without
Any dearth of
Religious amenities
So that I and my family
Are blessed by the
Holy trinity of
Om Shivai Namaha,
Vishnu and Brahma.
And yet after spending
So much on so many
Candles, sweets, savouries
And garlands of flowers
In their beautiful bounty,
I understand not
Why people still call me
A Miser,
When I tell them that my money
Is for the good, noble cause of
Sanctity, upholding the
Sanctum sanctorum of the
Temple deity,
And not squandering
On giving alms to
Beggars and lepers
Who line the streets
Anticipating my pity.
I, a miser?
God Almighty
I gift you so much
Out of love, affection
And duty.
They misunderstand me,
Don’t they?
For they call me a miser
As I feed you instead of
The hungry souls staring
At me with hunger, poverty
And depravity…
But then, for me,
Religion comes first
So does the opulence
In religious duty.
Hence, I please you
Almighty, with all the
Frills and fills of
Sumptuous feasts and
Social elaborations of
Kali Pooja, Durga Pooja,
Ganesha Chaturthi, Dussehra
And Diwali, not to mention
My very own home worship
Of the goddess of wealth
And prosperity – Lakshmi Pooja
Yet, they say I’m a miser?
Can they not see how lavishly
I spend to please thee…
O God Almighty,
Are they blind?
Give them some vision
So that they can see some
Clarity in my charity that I do
To appease the purohits -
So that they take good care of you
And in turn, I’m taken care by you.
The lepers and the beggars,
May they suffer their Karma
Let them go bothering others
But not me – as I’m with thee.
In your esteemed comradeship,
I’m above and beyond them.
Let me not stoop below to uplift them
Lest I fall and slip on the very floor
They are on, and in the process,
Lose thee, O God Almighty.
Me, a miser?
Let them say
And call me such
Miserable names.
I, once and for all,
Will always…
Classify myself
As an ardent devotee.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Class-Mates
Bob Briggs went in for Government,
And helps to run the State;
Some day they say he'll represent
His party in debate:
But with punk politics his job,
I do not envy Bob.
Jim Jones went in for writing books,
Best sellers were his aim;
He's ten years younger than he looks,
And licks the heels of Fame:
Though shop-girls make a fuss of him
I do not envy Jim.
Joe Giles went in for grabbing gold,
And grovelled in the dirt;
He, too, looks prematurely old,
His gastric ulcers hurt:
Although he has a heap of dough.
I do not envy Joe.
I've neither fame nor power nor wealth,
I fish and hunt for food;
But I have heaps of rugged health,
And life seems mighty good.
So when my class-mates come to spend
A week-end in my shack,
With lake and wood at journey's end
--They envy Jack.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Old Miser and his 3rd Wife
1
The Old Miser
my husband is dying
and he makes me promise
I must put all his money in his coffin
when he dies
“O my legal third wife
the only one surviving -
you must put all my money
secretly in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring away all the money
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
2
Now, he’s dead
and I’ve arranged for his funeral
and while everyone’s busy
with all these preparations
I dutifully take all his money
from the hiding place
which he whispered to me
with his last breath
and he bit my ear and he snarled:
“Put all my money
in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
3
So I take all his money
and bring it to the bank
and deposit it in my name
and make a cheque out for 10 million
and put the cheque below his head
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you can take all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Envy Exposed
Green with Envy does not describe
The color worn by this foul Sin
For green is the color of living things
An Envious Heart has no life therein
The color Blue for Envy will not do
Blue is the sky where freedom sings
In skies so many dreams take flight
An Envious Heart has no wings
Envy cannot dress in Yellow or Gold
The warm colors of the life giving Sun
An Envious Heart is so bitterly cold
With no joie de vivre for all of life’s fun
Envy dare not wear any shade of Red
A color so linked to precious bloodshed
Blood is sacred not to be wantonly shed
An Envious Heart would bleed others till dead
Purple is the color of Passionate fire
An Envious Heart knows only Hate’s ire
Pink is a color where innocent youth may abide
An Envious Heart is tired and shriveled inside
Nor can Envy ‘s color be Black as night
For the star filled night is laced with light
Envy won’t wear Purity’s symbolic White
An Envious Heart does not own such a right
Envy cannot even lay its claim to Grey
(Muddled mix of color though be as it may)
Grey is the color of softness seen
An Envious Heart is hard and mean
What Envy wears best is Invisibility
So denuded of Soul none would wish to see
No color born of Heaven will suit it well
An Envious Heart will be naked in Hell
poem by Mary Havran
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My mother, she had a very good attitude toward money. I'm very grateful for the fact that we had to learn to save. I used to get like 50 pence a week, and I'd save it for like five months. And then I'd spend it on Christmas presents. I'd save up like eight pounds. It's nothing, but we did that.
quote by Gemma Arterton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.
quote by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trains
Here I am at the end of the day
With a cup of cold coffee
From the station buffet.
On trains, on trains I seem
To spend my life on trains.
See the blue suit banker in the ticket line.
Got an evening standard with playboy
Hidden behind.
On trains, on trains he seems
To spend his life on trains.
Time after time.
Was I just dreaming?
Did I help you aboard?
Full passenger service ---
Let me help with the door.
Sit down take the weight off your feet.
Theres a train full of people Id like
You to meet.
On trains, on trains we love
To spend our lives on trains.
Join the secret world of trains.
Feel the pleasure. touch the pain.
Drift into yesterday.
Once and again
I was just thinking.
We could meet sometime
On the 17.30 where
I usually find
My friends at the end of the day.
May we pay your fare, lady?
We should like you to stay
In our train. on trains ---
Youll have to spend your life
On trains.
I hear theres an office party on the 18.05.
Youll be home for christmas if they
Take you alive from the train.
Those trains, we have to spend our lives
On trains.
Once and again
I was just thinking.
We could meet any time
On number two platform
Where I usually find
My friends at the end of the day.
On trains, trains, trains.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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