The Austerity
My mobile phone rings twice!
I took and it's a familiar voice.
'Hey! I am close to your heart
And see I am behind you.'
I looked around but nobody's seen.
'May I know your good name please? '
'It's me your breath Catherine
And you're my poor Peter the Great.
I can see you wear a Red T shirt my poor Socialist
And a blue denim patches here & there my Capitalist Rasputin.
Not only that my Sweetheart
We missed our scanty breakfast
I can see you are without the underpant
And I saw it's on the washing basin
Darling we're poor lovers with borrowed smiles.'
I heard she laughed and she's kidding me
My beloved!
A humble dedication to the poetess Fay slimm in gratitude!
* 'True affluence is not needing anything.' -Gary Snyder
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
I watch the Snowy Mountains in Corona
Somehow you're lucky
Hugging the Snowflakes!
And I am drowning in the life's-soup boiler.
Darling Corona, We have to move again to Anaheim
That's an order from the invisible Hands
And the poor Gypsy and his beloved pack the things into cardboard boxes
Where this tiresome journey stops?
* Humbly to the poetess Fay Slimm!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The 'Poem A Day' Project - Day 16
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’m feeling all alone
I can’t connect with my friends out there
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I miss its ringing tone
I’ve searched for it everywhere
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’ve lost my mobile phone
And now I cannot roam
I must stay near in case it rings
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I do not wish to moan
It has numbers, dates and all kinds of things
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’ve lost my mobile phone
And now I guess I’m prone
To wander like a lost zombie
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’ve no mind of my own
Without it there to organise me
I’ve lost my mobile phone
poem by Flying Lemming
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Poor Baby
Orbison/c & r price
Glittery eyes; witchy smiles
A good time is all you are after
Skin tight thighs; little white lies
Put you in the center of the laughter
But your reign of queen is over
Your fortress has been broken down
You're still the center of the laughter
But your role has changed to the clown
Chorus
Ooh poor baby
Someone broke your heart in two
Ooh poor baby
Who would have thought it could happen to you
Poor baby
A pretty face; sweet talkin' ways
Got you a part of the action
A come-over-touch, glances and such
You always had to be the main attraction
Now you're the one who's crying
You lost at your own lonely game
You're still the center of attraction
But now i'm gone, you've got yourself to blame
Chorus
Ooh poor baby
Do what you said you'd never do
Ooh poor baby
You let someone get much too close to you
Poor baby
Poor baby,poor baby
Poor baby,poor baby
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hollywood Holiday
I rode my motorcycle through a watermelon patch
Right on the california freeway
I took my holy Bible on my blessed boogie woogie drive
Cause I know I know I know
Where I go oh lord theyre gonna bless me jive
Poor you poor me
Poor everybody who buy to be
Poor me poor you
Poor everybody who die to do
I parked my motorcycle on hollywood and vine
And sang till my red blood turned boiling blue
I took my sole survival and bore my cross on a string
Cause I know I know I know
What I dear I bear my charm to king
Poor you poor me
Poor everybody who buy to be
Poor me poor you
Poor everybody who die to do
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Patient Poor!
The smiles of gratitude on being healed,
That lights the face of patients very poor,
Gives satisfaction more than covers sealed
From patients wearing shoes high-heeled and fur!
The etiquette of villagers unread,
Surpasses that of urban men ‘degreed’,
Well-dressed in foreign cars, overly fed,
With haughty laughter, showing off their greed!
Oh, what a lovely heart, the poor man has!
His humble voice and stance can lure the Doc;
Diseases strike more poor bodies; Alas,
For them, the health-providers scarcely talk!
The coins of love that patients poor empty
Are worth more weight in gold than dollars free!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-1-2006
poem by John Celes
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A flower asks another beautiful name for her?
Poor Gardener
Why you collect
my withered petals
among the leaves
in your book of heart
that I have never seen
in the garden of love!
*A humble dedication to the poetess Sridevi I always adore her writing style!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Capitalist, a Socialist and a Poet
A Capitalist, a Socialist and a Poet
Capitalist: What profit's there to be made?
Socialist: And how the workers will get paid?
Poet: Forget potatoes and your stocks,
The beauty's in the shining locks
Of my sweet darling-there she is-
An angel gliding through the breeze.
Capitalist: That's fine and dandy. What's the price
Of that sweet bosom and those eyes?
What is the bottom line, my friend?
Socialist: This dreamy nonsense has to end-
With millions walking unemployed,
What beauty's there to enjoy?
Poet: And in the starlight late at night
I see my lady burning bright,
And that is all I really need-
No public good or private greed-
I want my freedom just to be
Away from life's banality.
Capitalist: Good luck, my friend, but then again
You could've been a richer man.
Socialist: And while your comrades starve and hurt,
All you can think of is some flirt,
Who steals men's wallets and their hearts,
While you pursue your foolish art.
Poet: Foolish or not, and who decides
What to extol or to deride,
What we imagine, what we seem,
What we aspire to and dream?
And do we know who we are
Beyond some house or a car,
Beyond our jobs, beyond this life
That starts at nine and ends at five?
Capitalist: You could, my friend, be self-employed.
Socialist: Or one of many unemployed.
Poet: I find my meaning in my art,
While beauty lies within the heart
And shared equally with all,
Igniting passion in the soul,
Beyond appearances and lies,
Beyond demand, beyond supply,
Beyond your wealth or state control-
Mine is the freedom of the soul
To love and dream and to behold
The beauty of the natural world.
Not to despise, and not to claim
To have some answers to your game
Of rich and poor - it's all the same -
I want to live before I die
My life - not someone else's lies.
October 2,2009
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Killer Woman Blues
If you're looking for romance
Darling, don't you look for me.
If you're looking for romance
Darling, don't you look for me.
I've got a bad habit of wanting
things that aren't good for me.
I don't blame you, Sweetheart
for wanting your fun.
I don't blame you, Sweetheart
for wanting your fun
But you know as well as I do
you can get that from anyone.
I love you, Darling, oh yes
you mean that much to me.
I love you, Darling, it's true
you mean that much to me.
But your kind of loving is the kind
that makes my poor heart bleed.
poem by Faith Elizabeth Brigham
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Poverty
I saw an old cottage of clay,
And only of mud was the floor;
It was all falling into decay,
And the snow drifted in at the door.
Yet there a poor family dwelt,
In a hovel so dismal and rude;
And though gnawing hunger they felt,
They had not a morsel of food.
The children were crying for bread,
And to their poor mother they’d run;
‘Oh, give us some breakfast,’ they said,
Alas! their poor mother had none.
She viewed them with looks of despair,
She said (and I’m sure it was true),
‘’Tis not for myself that I care,
But, my poor little children, for you.’
O then, let the wealthy and gay
But see such a hovel as this,
That in a poor cottage of clay
They may know what true misery is.
And what I may have to bestow
I never will squander away,
While many poor people I know
Around me are wretched as they.
poem by Jane Taylor
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Your Facial Expression Still A Puzzle For Me?
the green grass with dew
resembles my poor mom's smile
and still it's a dilemma
mom cries or smiles?
for the poetess Sara Fielder in gratitude!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Small Plot Of Land
Poor soul
Spit upon that
Poor soul
He never knew what hit him
And it hit him so
Poor dunce
He pushed back the pigmen
The barbs laughed
The fool is dead
Poor dunce
Hes less than within us
The brains talk
But the will to live is dead
And prayer cant
Travel so far these days
The talk of your life
Standing so near
To innocent eyes
Poor dunce
Swings thru the tunnels
And claws his way
Is small life so manic
Are these really the days
Poor dunce
Poor dunce
Poor soul
Poor soul
Poor soul
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Men Of Good Fortune
Men of good fortune
Often cause empires to fall
While men of poor beginnings
Often cant do anything at all
The rich son waits for his father to die
The poor just drink and cry
And me, I just dont care at all
Men of good fortune
Very often cant do a thing
While men of poor beginnings
Often can do anything
At heart they try to act like a man
Handle things the best way they can
They have no rich, daddy to fall back on
Men of good fortune
Often cause empires to fall
While men of poor beginnings
Often cant do anything at all
It takes money to make money they say
Look at the fords, but didnt they start that way
Anyway, it makes no difference to me
Men of good fortune
Often wish that they could die
While men of poor beginnings
Want what they have and to get it theyll die
All those great things that live has to give
They wanna have money and live
But me, I just dont care at all
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Greate Freedom
nation flag fly
child cry
hunger
mother chest
no milk
good morning india...?
bad morning for poor indian people...
and poor freedom...
every wear...
not full fill the poor
indian stomach.........
what a great...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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I Go For Simplicity My Friend
i go for simplicity my friend
because i am poor
i do not go for sophistication
because i am poor
i do not complicate matters
because i am poor
i do not want you to misunderstand
because i am poor
i do not want you to think some more
because i am poor
i do not want to convince you
because i am poor
i do not want you to be with our side
because we are poor
i want all things in their simplified forms
because we cannot afford
any other form of convolutions
we cannot afford another revolution
it will be expensive
and we have no more years to give
to pay for the sponsors
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Patches Of
patches of sunlight,
patches of clouds.
patches of Jesus,
patches of doubt.
patches of joy,
patches of pain.
patches of hope,
patches of strain.
patches of tomorrow,
patches of today.
patches of forever,
patches of 'cant stay'!
patches of loving,
patches of cold.
patches of youth,
patches of old.
patches of bravery.
patches of fear.
patches of happiness,
patches of tears.
patches of life,
patches of death.
patches of trying
with your last breath!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Ton Of Shoes And No Food
Mom has ton of shoes, while kids have no clothes,
child is worried school kids make fun of her
because they know.
Know she is borrowing Mary's pants, and she wears
a shirt that she sewed-
sewed in sewing class-
classmates know this is
and smile and laugh.
It's sad, but it is true
on a larger scale it rings through-
This is the reflection of the rich and the poor-
even as they live next door.
$50,000 dollars for campaign for Romney's dinner plates,
while children in ghetto eat old raisins not grapes.
He is going to cut alot of programs these poor people need
he looks like he doesn't want poor people to have a place to live.
What is Romney's real motive and is it for the greater good?
Is it to help human beings have basic needs met and be understood?
poem by Christina Sunrise
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How Can A Poor Man Stand Such Times & Live ?
(alfred reed)
(g) - (c) - (g7) - (d) - (d7) - (am)
(g) I remember a time when every (d) thing was (g) cheap
Now prices nearly puts a man to (d) sleep
(d7) well, when we (g) get our grocery (g7) bill
We (c) feel like making our (am) will
Tell me, (g) how can a poor man (d7) stand such times and (g) live ?
Tell me, (g) how can a poor man (d7) stand such times and (g) live ?
Well, the doctor comes around with his face all bright
And he says, in a little while youll be all right!
Well, all he gives is a humbug pill
Dose of dope and a great big bill
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live ?
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live ?
Most preachers, well, they preach for gold and not for soul
Well, thats what keeps us poor folks always in a hole
Now, we can hardly get our breath
Taxed and schooled and preached to death
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live ?
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live ?
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kaw-liga
Hank williams
Kaw-liga was a wooden indian standing by the door
He fell in love with an indian maid over in the antique store
Kaw-liga just stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no
He always wore his sunday feathers and held a tomahawk
The maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped someday hed talk
Kaw-liga, too stubborn to ever show a sign
Because his heart was made of knotty pine
Poor old kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-liga,that poor old wooden head
Kaw-liga was a lonely indian, never went nowhere
His heart was set on the indian maid with the coal black hair
Kaw-liga just stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no
Poor old kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-liga,that poor old wooden head
Then one day a wealthy customer bought the indian maid
And took her oh so far away, but old kaw-liga stayed
Kaw-liga just stands there as lonely as can be
And wishes he was still an old pine tree
Poor old kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-liga,that poor old wooden head
Kaw-liga, kaw-liga kaw-liga....
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sign Waver who resembles my deceased brother
He stands at a Roundabout,
A white placard of black letters
And with a strap around his neck
It exhibits an advertisement of a new pay loan Center.
The poor chap's dance is very attractive
And I approached him pussyfoot.
I called him; 'Brother, for three things I came to you,
Firstly, you resemble my deceased loving brother once the bread-winner of our poor family.
Secondly, I am very inquisitive about the loan.
Thirdly, I am jobless and seeking a position to survive.
But I cannot dance like you and I am not belong to your soil; a different planet
Where I have come from?
So my dance would be typical and I am scared even to my oblique shadow.
Just imagine dear, when somebody is in hunger what about his dance? '
* my humble dedication to the poetess Dove Allen
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Poverty
Tears filled in the eyes, as a compare the rich with the poor;
Palatial buildings laugh at the small cottages of the poor.
With scanty income the poor feeds the children, contents their desire;
Life of poor is filled with fear.
O god, in thy kingdom, partiality reigns hither, thither;
Poor becomes poorer with thy desire.
Corruption is rampant among the officers;
Exploiting junior employees' property they content their desire.
O god! Thy Earth is wonder;
Poor people roam hither, thither;
With their little income they content their desire.
On Earth they are cursed creatures.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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