Whoever cultivates the golden mean avoids both the poverty of a hovel and the envy of a palace.
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Having leveled my palace, don't erect a hovel and complacently admire your own charity in giving me that for a home.
quote by Emily Bronte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Petrified
Every girl avoids me
and of all the girls that I chase
not one wants to woo me,
although they can find real love.
No flowers or poems that I venture
makes any girl look at me.
Every girl avoids me
and of all the girls that I chase
passes me by,
as if not one will stay with me
and it hits me very low
that I cannot succeed with any woman or maiden
and every girl avoids me
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sonnet: The Magic of Poverty
A birth in poverty is luck supreme!
A death in poverty, a great blessing;
A life of poverty is rare a dream;
Achievements great, stark poverty can bring.
’Tis poverty that goads nations do feats;
’Tis poverty that stimulates scientists;
In everything, poverty, wealth just beats;
The greatest men were in poverty’s lists.
And poverty lessens our worries much;
Account to God will be much easier;
Poverty gives the saint a divine touch;
In poverty, poets can fly higher!
Poverty helps to shun worldly pleasures;
A soul in poverty, Heaven allures.
9-14-2002
poem by John Celes
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The Refusal
MINE is a palace fair to see,
All hung with gold and silver things,
It is more glorious than a king's,
And crownèd queens might envy me.
Ah, no, I will not let you in!
Stay rather at the gates and weep
For all the splendour that I keep,
The treasures that you cannot win.
While you desire and I refuse,
For both the palace still is here--
Its turrets gold, its silver gear
Are yours to wish for--mine to use.
But if I let you in, I know
The spell would break, the palace fade,
And we stand, trembling and afraid,
Lost in the dark where chill winds blow.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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He who avoids the temptations avoids the sin.
Golden Children
Gold has an advantage over us. Gold mattered over all other matter. Glowing is the metal of desire, the metallic abode is upon us like a golden palace twitching like silver, but gold. Golden palaces harvest children of gore to expertly slice and shear the halls and walls so that the germs must disappear from their scalps. Are they skulls, or just plain children? Is there an uprising? Or are there too many children in the golden palace? Gold shall teach the mighty reward to the ending of some crazy children.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The wind palace of Jaipur
The soft pink of the wind palace
Does not jell with her poverty’s
Blazing red tie-and-dye saree
Too kitschy for our proud art,
Too sentimental for our souls.
Let us have bright red bangles
They contrast better with the pink-
There is still poverty left in them.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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The Golden Palace
Locked behind the door
Taken by force
But Im not guilty of the crime
How can this be real
What is aganst the law
To say whats on your mind
Then I see your face
So warm as it comforts me
And tells me I am not alone
Pray for me tonight
Give me the strength of love
To help me cross the virgin snow
I will run till daybreak
My tears will fade away
Theyll never take me again
No Im never going back
cause when I get to the golden palace
Everything will surely be so clear
Can we give ourselves
Like a mother to her child
They took a part of me
Whenever I think of it
I shiver to the bone
The scar is on my heart
When will the crimes of
Inhumanity be known
I am only one voice
I will not fade away
So many are silent
But I will never look back
cause when I get to the golden palace
Everything will surely disappear
The snow has gone at last
Im out of the shadows and into the sun
And then I see you smile
Angel of mercy
The fight has jus begun
I can hear them calling
Across the frozen land
The world will hear us
You know its never too late
cause when we get
To the golden palace
The memory will surely be so clear
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shadow Inside My Shadow
poverty is not my cousin,
is not my lover,
is not my preacher,
poverty is not my brother.
poverty is not my prayer,
or the song that i sing
is not my answer
poverty is not my dream.
poverty is not my teacher,
not the hand that i hold.
poverty is not my anger,
not my spirit, not my soul.
ah! but this poverty is real
it races thru my mind
crashes into my heart,
& leaves me deaf and blind.
poverty is my companion.
the aching cold inside my hollow.
the blow behind my eyes,
poverty is the shadow
inside my shadow.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Poverty In The 21st Century
It’s the 21st century
The media displays it day and night,
Poverty.
Poverty across the globe lies
Poverty cries out from the belly of little boys
Little girls, parents too
Desperately searching for food,
Shelter, clothing, for love,
Companion, for attention
Those with plenty, refuse
To amend, a world haunted by
Poverty.
Is poverty affecting the rich?
Are their poverty the same
As the poor in financial constrains?
For they, too, poverty of love
I see poverty in the learned
I see poverty in those whose
Selfish acts are destroying society.
I see poverty in all level of humanity
The world is still an imperfect place
Yet life is still beautiful, the wind
Blows, we see it not, give thanks
For what you possess, now go,
Help if you can along the way,
Help to eradicate poverty
In your surrounding, widen
Your boundary across your
Country, to nations of the world.
Help to fight poverty, now!
poem by Winston Harding
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The Golden Rose
A POOR lost princess, weary and worn,
Came over the down by the wind-washed moor,
And the king looked out on her grace forlorn,
And he took her in at his palace door.
He made her queen, he gave her a crown,
Bidding her rest and be glad and gay
In his golden town, with a golden gown,
And a new gold lily every day.
But the crown is heavy, the gold gown gray,
And the queen's pale breast is like autumn snows;
For he brings a gold lily every day,
But no king gathers the golden rose.
One came at last to the palace keep
By worlds of water and leagues of land,
Gray were his garments, his eyes were deep,
And he held the golden rose in his hand.
She left gold gown, gold town, gold crown,
And followed him straight to a world apart,
And he left her asleep on the wind-washed down,
With the golden rose on her quiet heart.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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I Envy Nothing But One
I don’t envy the angels with wings who can fly
I’ve been soaring in the beautiful sky of your love
I don’t envy the beauty of the rainbow
You’ve made me the most beautiful woman in your love
I don’t envy the freedom of the dolphins swimming in the ocean
I’ve been swimming in the ocean of your loving eyes
I don’t envy Shakespeare for his love poems
I’ve become the greatest poet since I met you
I don’t envy Romeo’s faith to Juliet
You’ve never turned your heart from me, not even once
I don’t envy the softness of the dew the morning has
You’ve been kissing me gently with your tender lips
I don’t envy Monalisa’s wonderful smile Leonardo has
I’ve got one of mine on your face
I don’t envy the sweet sound a harp has
I’ve got a sweeter one when you whisper in my ears
I envy nothing but one
The way you love and make me feel this way
poem by Santi Dewi Sihombing
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Crackerbox Palace
I was so young when I was born
My eyes could not yet see
And by the time of my first dawn
Somebody holding me . . . they said
I welcome you to crackerbox palace
Weve been expecting you
You bring such joy in crackerbox palace
No matter where you roam know our love is true
While growing up or trying to
Not knowing where to start
I looked around for someone who
May help reveal my heart - someone said
While youre a part of cracerbox palace
Do what the rest all do
Or face the fact that crackerbox palace
May have no other choice than to deport you
I welcome you to crackerbox palace
Weve been expecting you
You bring us joy in crackerbox palace
No matter where you roam know our love is true
Sometimes are good . . . sometimes are bad
Thats all a part of life
And standing in between them all
I met a mr. grief - and he said
I welcome you to crackerbox palace
Was not expecting you
Lets rap and tap at crackerbox palace
Know that the lord is well and inside of you
(chorus)
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty.
quote by Mother Teresa
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One’s drive
I should marry such a woman
As others would envy me my wife.
I should attain such a position
As others would envy me my place.
I should construct such a building
As others would envy me my house.
In absence of others, I have no drive.
Envy, not love, influences one’s drive.
03.11.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Poverty-I
Lot of hunger and having no food is poverty,
Not having spare cloth to take bath is poverty,
Needing a shelter but not having one is poverty,
Child's sick but can not buy treatment, is poverty,
Fainting child dreaming a mouthful of rice is poverty
Searching warmth in cold flesh in winter nights, is poverty,
Sitting with umbrella on wetting bed in showering night, is poverty,
Thoughtful mother, two mouthful of rice and three children, is poverty,
An ill, deserted mother selling her child wishing it will survive, is poverty.
A defeated and desponded mother poisoning and killing her child is poverty,
.
.
posted on 31-07-2008
Copyright ©®2008, Palas Kumar Ray. All rights reserved.
poem by Palas kumar Ray
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Cinderella, in an Alternate Universe
Cinderella got lost
somewhere in between
the countryside and palace
that she'd never seen.
Walking through mud,
face streaked with tears
still clearly so beautiful,
the slippers were clear.
But soon she got covered
in the worst kinds of things
and she didn't understand
what marriage would mean.
She had no conception
of being the queen,
so she met a young beggar
and settled, for him.
They lived in a hovel
right outside town;
she'd watch the processions
of royals going down.
She often wondered
how it might feel
to sit on a throne
(it gave her a thrill!) .
As she tended the fire
and sat in the cinders
she would dream of a life
with riches unending.
The end.
poem by Patti Masterman
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A Ballad
In a costly palace Youth goes clad in gold;
In a wretched workhouse Age's limbs are cold:
There they sit, the old men by a shivering fire,
Still close and closer cowering, warmth is their desire.
In a costly palace, when the brave gallants dine,
They have store of good venison, with old canary wine,
With singing and music to heighten the cheer;
Coarse bits, with grudging, are the pauper's best fare.
In a costly palace Youth is still carest
By a train of attendants which laugh at my young Lord's jest;
In a wretched workhouse the contrary prevails:
Does Age begin to prattle?-no man heark'neth to his tales.
In a costly palace if the child with a pin
Do but chance to prick a finger, straight the doctor is called in;
In a wretched workhouse men are left to perish
For want of proper cordials, which their old age might cherish.
In a costly palace Youth enjoys his lust;
In a wretched workhouse Age, in corners thrust,
Think upon the former days, when he was well to do,
Had children to stand by him, both friends and kinsmen too.
In a costly palace Youth his temples hides
With a new devised peruke that reaches to his sides;
In a wretched workhouse Age's crown is bare,
With a few thin locks just to fence out the cold air.
In peace, as in war, 'tis our young gallants' pride,
To walk, each one i' the streets, with a rapier by his side,
That none to do them injury may have pretence;
Wretched Age, in poverty, must brook offence.
poem by Charles Lamb
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