A rare gypsy rarely seen!
A gypsy was left to the mercy of God,
along with her two children in rags.
To give her hell, her husband has left her there.
Dowry or giving birth to only girls,
adultery or ambition to have a shelter
was not the cause for their wrangle.
“ Stop ranting me in filthy words in the bazaar”
She pleaded but he evinced no change.
She complained to the police and he was
driven out of that coastal village.
In the late mid-night, when I went out of my office,
I saw something dark at the verandah
of a class-room nearby.
I walked slowly there with some fear
as small snakes would lie on the sand.
A lady was squatting beside the wall,
huddling together her sleeping children.
“ Don’t stay here. Get lost! ” I shouted.
“ In the morning I’ll go out. Till then, permit me”,
She begged and covered her children with her saree.
“ Get into the room and stay there for the night”,
I said to her to save her kids from the cold.
“ I can’t be a hostess to this village hooligans.
They will hunt me down in this doorless room”.
Her reply made me pity her more.
She told me she would earn some money
by doing some work for wages the next day
and go to a place where her clan are camping.
I promised her a hundred rupees at dawn
and she could go by bus to join her kin.
“ Sorry, I can’t return that money.
So I don’t want it from you”,
She said with all humility.
“ When you become rich, you give it back”,
I muttered with a smile.
“ I can’t be rich. Anyhow I get it in the morning”, she said.
When I went out with a hundred rupee note at sunrise,
she wasn’t there but her children were gathering fruits
under a tamarind tree and they told me
that their mother had gone to clear weeds in fields;
she would be back with money in the evening
and they would go to Tambaram Railway Station
where their grandmother has been living.
“ Oh, the gypsies are far better than others
Who long to have freebies from the government”
I thought myself and smiled.
-------------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
What Would The Children Think
She wakes up in the morning with the new sunrise
Looks at her husband sleeping still
Inside she cries
She makes the children breakfast
Gets them on their way
Watching them through the window
She prepares to face another day
Then her husband tells her
That he wont be home til late
Theres so much work hell have to stay behind
But she knows it isnt work thats on his mind
But still hell never leave her
Cause what would the children think
Where would the children go
What would the children do
If they knew the way it was
But theyll never learn because
What would the children think
Where would the children think
At the gate she kissed him
And watched him walk
Hoping this small charade
Will stop the neighbors talk
She turns to hide a tear
Inside her gilded cage
She cries for the love she could not hold
And lost to someone half her age
Then her pride and breakin heart
Tell her to run away
But she values what shes got a little more
Two kids, one 9 and nearly 4
And she would never leave them cause
What would the children think
Where would the children go
What would the children do
If they knew the way it was
But theyll never learn because
What would the children think
Where would the children think
What would the children think
Where would the children go
What would the children do.
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Are The Children
We are the children who never got to be children
We all grew up too fast
We are the children who cried silent tears
Praying it wouldn't last
We are the children who practised their smile
Hiding all the pain inside
We are the children who couldn't get away
Got dragged along for the ride
So now hear my prayer
Let the children smile
Don't take away their youth and innocence
Let them be kids for a while
So now join this march
For the children's rights
Don't lock them away in the cold and the dark
Just give them a shining light
The kids don't work they do my head in
Just remember it's coz of all the lies you spin
You think it's messed up now - just wait till you're old
You never made those memories out of gold
The kids they cry
Every single night
Just let them smile
And see the light
poem by Alex Daydream
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lie would win over truth
He was
Shabbily dressed,
Gloom
On his unshaven face
Pain in the eyes
He entered my chamber
Politely asked for a
Ten-rupee note
To buy medicine for his
Ailing wife
Without thinking much
I gave the note to him
After few days
He came back again
With the same story
Another note
Was given to him
By his third visit
I came to know
He was an imposter
Concocting false stories
To collect money
I yelled at him
Asked him to go away
Refused to give
Any money
He smiled and said
Now you know the truth
However,
I need the money
You have to give it to me
Other wise
I shall go on the road
Shout on the top of
My voice
You call yourself rich
But you are the
Biggest miser
On the earth
Who does not have?
Even a Ten-rupee note
To help an ailing lady
I am a popper
Nobody knows me
However, you shall
Lose your prestige
In my heart, I cursed him
My prestige was on stake
Lie would win over truth
In sheer disgust I gave
A hundred rupee note to him
Requested him to please
Spare me
Do not bother me again
11-03-2012
345-78-03-12
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give Love To The Children
Give Love to the children Children need love everyday
Give love to the children Guide them on their way
Love's like a burning flame consumes all that stands in the way
Love is the only power on earth to take all the hatred away
GIVE LOVE TO THE CHILDREN set the children free
To make their own decisions then they will clearly see
Love is the sun the moon and the stars love is a golden ring
Love is the one thing the whole world desires be it beggar or king
GIVE LOVE TO THE CHILDREN youth has not long to stay
Love is a long term investment the best you will find any day
Love like the rising sun takes all the darkness away
Our children will tell their children and their childrens children will say
Give love to the children they are our crock of gold
and if perchance they ever stray they will come back to the fold
Give love to the children the children of today
Give love to the children and love will come to stay.
poem by Elizabeth Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet # 337
Each morning bright I children see delight.
Each morning dark I children see sad crying.
The mornings bright`ve milk, bread for appetitte.
The mornings dark not e`en water for drinking.
Each night, lo, bright I happy children see.
Each night yes dark I children see so sobbing.
The nights bright`ve beds for when they`re asleep sleep.
The nights are dark not e`en a floor for resting.
So I as if I`d plenty of everything,
A palace my small room, my clothes all gold
Do come to feel I have too much of spring
When there`re children to misery they`re sold.
And then I litte eat, think have a feast
And look at children who their food has ceased.
poem by Luis Estable
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nasty Bath Room
The bustand
Bath room
Was not for
Clean...
Urine sumeel
Cut the nose...
Some budy pass
Urine...
No for water
But
Colected money
For indian rupees
Onr for urine pass...
Rupees two for
Motion pass...
I was give
One rupee
I went the
Bustand bath room...
Not passed
The urine...
Urine was my self
Very urgent...
But i did not pass urine;
I was pay the one rupee
For indian money
Nasty bath room...
You also go and see
The bustand that bath room
Very care full...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Money, Money
I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay
Ain't it sad
And still there never seems to be a single penny left for me
That's too bad
In my dreams I have a plan
If I got me a wealthy man
I wouldn't have to work at all, I'd fool around and have a ball...
Money, money, money
Must be funny
In the rich man's world
Money, money, money
Always sunny
In the rich man's world
Aha-ahaaa
All the things I could do
If I had a little money
It's a rich man's world
A man like that is hard to find but I can't get him off my mind
Ain't it sad
And if he happens to be free I bet he wouldn't fancy me
That's too bad
So I must leave, I'll have to go
To Las Vegas or Monaco
And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same...
Money, money, money
Must be funny
In the rich man's world
Money, money, money
Always sunny
In the rich man's world
Aha-ahaaa
All the things I could do
If I had a little money
It's a rich man's world
Money, money, money
Must be funny
In the rich man's world
Money, money, money
Always sunny
In the rich man's world
Aha-ahaaa
All the things I could do
If I had a little money
It's a rich man's world
It's a rich man's world
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give Love To Children
Give Love to the children Children
need love everyday
Give love to the children Guide
them on their way
Love's like a burning flame
consumes all that stands in the way
Love is the only power on earth
to take all the hatred away
Give Love to set the children free
To make their own decisions
then they will clearly see
Love is the sun the moon and the
stars love is a golden ring
Love is the one thing the whole
world desires be it beggar or king
Give Love to youth
has not long to stay
Love is a long term investment
the best you will find any day
Love like the rising sun takes all
the darkness away
Our children will tell their
children and their childrens
children will say
Give love to the children they are
our crock of gold
and if perchance they ever stray
they will come back to the fold
Give love to the children the
children of today
Give love to the children and love
will come to stay.
poem by Akingbehin Daniel Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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May God Help The Poor Children
He help the homeless children the children of the street
He give them clothes and shelter he give them food to eat
He try to shield them from police the police no mercy show
And the glue sniffing children of the streets at their hands suffer so.
I watched a documentary on Guatemala the saddest I've seen for years
The crimes against the children moved hardened heart to tears
The police of Guatemala beat the street kids to death
How can men do such evil things and not live to regret? .
The street kids of Guatemala they know Bruce Harris well
He try to keep them from the streets from life of crime and hell
He try to shield them from police from cruel inhuman men
His is an uphill battle a battle hard to win.
He help the homeless children the children of the street
He give them clothes and shelter he give them food to eat
And may God help the poor children such suffering they go through
And God bless all those who help them and God bless Bruce Harris too.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rebel, Rebel, Rebel
We’re in the station line up for something
It’s crowded like hell and nobody cares
About patience, about tolerance
Oh, they all vapor in hot air
They say I should keep move but they don’t give me a room
They keep pushing me back and front
And there’s little devil pop up in my head
Rebel, rebel, rebel
It’s enough!
I will say it clear, I will tell till you can hear
Why I should do what you want but you don’t
I can’t please everyone, I will stay if I want
No matter how hard I should stand my right
By the end you will learn not to ignore
We’re living in mechanical world
Everything out of system will be called junk
Even for a dream, even for change
They won’t believe if there isn’t a proof
They say I should have all but they surround me by wall
And there’s little devil pop up in my head
Rebel, rebel, rebel
Is that enough?
I will say it clear, I will tell till you can hear
Why I should corrupt my heart just to meet your standard
I can’t please everyone, I will do what I want
No matter how long I should fight
By the end you will accept my point
We’re too much having senseless war
They claim they who on the way
To give justice, to make promise
Damn, it’s just a lie as usual
They say they’re who right but they’re wasting my time
They keep covering up and up
And there’s little devil pop up in my head
Rebel, rebel, rebel
It’s really enough!
I will say it clear, I will tell till you can hear
Why I should follow this game when you order with power
I’ll stop you now, I’ll prove you wrong
No matter how hard reality is I will stand for peace
By the end you’ll not get anything worth over
We’re running out the world
Everything exploited till the limit
Only for money, only for greed
And anybody should pay for it
They say there’ll be better life but it’s only lullaby
They keep robbing my land and culture
And there’s little devil pop up in my head
Rebel, rebel, rebel
It’s better enough!
I will say it clear, I will tell till you can hear
Why I should suffer with your own doom
I’ll stop you now, there’s no other direction
No matter how long we must protect we should love more this earth
By the end our children could also feel that their home is a beautiful place
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The prisoner of his conscience (Story Poem)
He was very poor and he married a rich woman
So he got money but he became a very sad man
She couldn't have children, even it wasn't his game plan
One day he saw a widow walking down the street ''It's later'
He told her calmly and begun to discuss about life with her
He didn't know why he suddenly felt to touch her so tender
He understood her when she confessed her cried coeur
Saying that she had three grown children and she was very poor
And she had to work as housemaid at a loudmouthed boor
She was in pain and he felt that and to help her was his concern
He wanted to take care of her family asking nothing in return
He thought never to dishonor her acting as a father to her children
He begun to understand how unhappy was the woman he loved
When he left her for another one and she became so grieved
He asked her to talk about his feelings for her and she approved
He wanted to divorce to marry her and take care of her needs
Certainly he wanted to become an adoptive father of her kids
To make her the mother of his future children he made a bid
His wife didn't agree to divorce but he left her on her demand
He took the widow and went to find their soul in a far away land
His wife got crazy and she killed herself they found her on the sand
He went to her funeral to see her last time without annoyance
He begun to scream releasing something deeper and fierce
Without his wish releasing the prisoner of his conscience.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everything She Wants
Somebody told me
Boy everything she wants is everything she sees
I guess i must have loved you
Because i said you were the perfect girl for me, baby
And now we're six months older
And everything you want and everything you see
Is out of reach not good enough
I don't know what the hell you want from me
Somebody tell me
(won't you tell me)
Why i work so hard for you
(to give you money, work to give you money)
Some people work for a living
Some people work for fun
Girl i just work for you
They told me marriage was give and take
Well you've shown me you can take
You've got some giving to do
And now you tell me that your having my baby
I'll tell you that i'm happy if you want me to
But one step further and my back will break
If my best isn't good enough
Then how can it be good enough for two
I can't work any harder than i do
Somebody tell me
(won't you tell me)
Why i work so hard for you
(to give you money, work to give you money)
Oh why do i do the things i do
I'd tell you if i knew
My god, i don't even think that i love you
(won't you tell me)
(to give you money, work to give you money)
How could you settle
For a boy like me
When all i could see
Was the end of the week
All the things we sign
And the things we buy
Ain't gonna keep us together
It's just a matter of time
My situation
Never changes
Walking in and out of that door
Like a stranger
For the wages
I give you all
You say you want more
And all i could see
Was the end of the week
All the things we sign
And the things we buy
Ain't gonna keep us together
Girl it's just a matter of time
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Dreamed About Mama Last Night
I've just been to heaven with someone so true I dreamed about mama last night
She read me the Bible like she used to do I dreamed about mama last night
She never close her eyes to sleep till we were all in bed
And on party nights when we come home she often sat and read
We little thought about it then for we were young and gay
Just how much mama worried when we children were away
We only knew she never slept when we were out at night
That she waited just to know that we'd all come home alright
Why sometimes when we'd stay away till one or two or three
It seemed to us that mama heard the turnin' of the key
For always when we'd step aside she'd call and we'd reply
But we were all too young back then to understand the reason why
Until the last one had returned she'd always keep a light
For mama couldn't sleep until she kissed us all goodnight
She had to know that we were safe before she went to rest
She seemed to fear that the world might harm the ones that she loved the best
And once she told me when you're grown to women and to men
Perhaps I'll sleep the whole night through I may be different then
And so it seemed that night and day we knew a mother's care
That always when we got back home we'd find her waitin' there
Then came the night that we were called together round her bed
The children're all with you now the kindly doctor said
And in her eyes the gleam again that old time tender light
That told that she's just been waitin' to know that we were alright
She smiled that old familiar smile and prayed to God to keep
Her children safe from harm throughout the years tand then she went to sleep
My dream is a treasure that I'll always keep I dreamed about mama last night
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children in Need
Snug in your
Central heated homes,
Think others living in cardboard boxes.
Turn down heating and donate money saved to
Children in Need.
What should I order an Indian, Chinese, pizza or kebab?
Some are starving –
Would be grateful for a piece of bread.
Have a sandwich and donate money saved to
Children in Need.
Wear expensive shoes
Some walk bare foot,
Designer clothing but some are in rags,
Share some and donate to
Children in Need.
For Friday night out
Are sixty or seventy pounds enough?
Have fewer drinks or miss restaurant meal,
Have kebab and donate saved money to
Children in Need.
Stay in –
Enjoy the spectacle of Children in Need,
With Terry Wogan and the lovely Fearne Cotton.
Share a little and help smash last years total
Of £30 million
And put a smile on everyone’s face.
poem by Khadim Hussain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poor Folks Town
The work is hard and the hours are long
The money aint much but we get along
Were rich in things can give
That cant be bought with a dollar bill
So, come on down
Have a look around
Rich folks livin in a poor folks town
We got no money but were rich in love
Thats one thing that weve got a-plenty of
So come on down have a look around
At rich folks livin in a poor folks town
We got no carpets on the floor
Weve got wall to wall love
Who could ask for more
We got no big fine things to show
Just a place to watch our children grow
We got no big fine fancy car to drive
And no fancy clothes to keep in style
What weve got were payin on
But its mostly love that were livin on
So, come on down
Have a look around
Rich folks livin in a poor folks town
We got no money but were rich in love
Thats one thing that weve got a-plenty of
So come on down have a look around
At rich folks livin in a poor folks town
Weve got a little simple church nearby
And the promise of a mansion in the sky
A heart of gold a million dollar smile
And a one way ticket to paradise
So, come on down
Have a look around
Rich folks livin in a poor folks town
We got no money but were rich in love
Thats one thing that weve got a-plenty of
So come on down have a look around
At rich folks livin in a poor folks town
So, come on down
Have a look around
Rich folks livin in a poor folks town
We got no money but were rich in love
Thats one thing that weve got a-plenty of
So come on down have a look around
At rich folks livin in a poor folks town
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Mothers Life
Born into poverty, abandoned very young
No mother or lullabies to be sung
Left all alone, her the oldest of three
Boards nailed on the windows so they couldn't see
She would write on the wall, one mark each day
So she would know how long they'd been away
Dad said to her, mom is really sick
Got to get her to the hospital, need to go real quick
Take care of the kids till we get back
Not a light in the place, all was black
Barely any food for them all to eat
The room so drafty, there was no heat
One day when she had fourteen marks on the wall
She heard a man shout out a call
He told the others, I hear crying inside
Pulled the boards of the door, while they tried to hide
He told the others, these children need food and clothes
He sure glad he heard them before the building was bulldozed
He called child welfare, and ladies came out
They took these poor children without a doubt
They took these children to different foster parents
Their neglect and and poverty was quite apparent
Their parents never returned to get them back
But at least they weren't still living in that old shack
They all were adopted to different places
Never to hold or see each others faces
Helen was the oldest, the one who had cared for them
Haunted for life, from the memories that stem
I know this story oh so well
Because of the past her whole life was hell
I was her daughter, till she passed away
It effected my life too, I was others prey
She didn't know how to be a mother
All we three, her children had was one another
So I suffer the curse of loneliness and depression
I've been loved and another's possession
I've been abused, the pain goes deep
What other have sewn is what I've reaped
By Dogs4donna
© 2008 Dogs4donna (All rights reserved)
poem by Donna Nimmo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lost on the Lady Elgin
Up from the poor man's cottage--
Forth from the mansion door;
Sweeping across the waters,
And echoing 'long the shore;
Caught by the morning breezes--
Borne on the evening gale;
Cometh a voice of mourning,
A sad and solemn wail.
Lost on the Lady Elgin!
Sleeping to wake no more!
Number'd in that three hundred,
Who fail'd to reach the shore!
Oh! 'tis the cry of children,
Weeping for parents gone;
Children who slept at evening,
But orphans woke at dawn.
Sisters for brothers weeping,
Husbands for missing wives--
Such are the ties dis-sever'd
With those three hundred live.
Staunch was the noble steamer--
Precious the freight she bore;
Gaily she loosed her cables,
A few short hours before.
Grandly she swept out harbor,
Joyfully ran her bell;
Little thought we, 'ere morning,
'Twould toll so sad a knell.
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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and it was Her Summer
…And It Was Her Summer
“Go back to the children’s home, she said I have no work and
can’t afford to keep you” Late June afternoon she sat on a bench
with a man I didn’t know. The man smiled I didn’t like him, but
took the coins he gave me to buy an ice –cream for; I was still
hanging about so mother got up and slapped me across the face.
”Get lost you stupid boy! ” My face was burning I threw the coins
into the lake and ran away. When I stopped running it was night
and I could see sheep in a field, I was tired and cold, thought of
seeking shelter in a little wooden church, but it smelt of fear and
I thought of ghosts, so I walked on till I came to a workman’s hut
near the road, it was easy to get in; here the smell was of coffee,
and kind men in overalls, perhaps one of them were my father?
It was morning and warm sunlight when they came, they were not
angry, but gave me milk and bread and showed me the quickest
way to get home. The sky that day was enormous and from a hill
I looked down to the town, I could see the school building it must
have been early, no children in the yard; but I just sat there and
could not understand why my mother didn’t want to se me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dozen Red Roses
God told me to take fifty dollars,
And buy a dozen red roses;
To give them to strangers,
Just as His Spirit impresses.
I gave the first red rose to a homeless man,
Who was sitting on a street curb.
He looked so stunned as he accepted,
But his eyes filled with tears of joy superb.
I then took the subway
That was rather busy.
I saw a mother who looked stresssed;
So gave her a red rose of mercy.
She smiled sweetly, as I walked away.
I sensed this red rose was special;
Gave her a sense of worthiness,
Made me feel like her guardian angel.
The Spirit led me to nine others,
Who were very touched indeed,
By a stranger gifting red roses;
An unusual type of deed.
As I left the train station,
I was led into a nearby hospital.
I asked to whom I should give;
This last red rose, so beautiful.
I was led into a room,
Where a small boy was dying of cancer.
Too weak to take the last rose;
I placed it on his dresser.
He looked at the beautiful red rose;
He could smell its perfume.
Tears fell down his tiny face.
I thanked God for this red rose mission,
As I left the young boy’s room.
Sometimes God asks us,
To do things that may seem strange.
But, in His wisdom, love is His exchange.
The red roses were a token
Of our Saviour’s love
sacrificially given to His children—
Hearts touched from heaven above.
poem by Maureen Lefanue
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early Works - The Spirit Of Christmas
The December wind howled outside
rattling the windows,
the children played on the floor
as the crimson glow of the fire
warmed the heart of the room.
In the corner stood a Christmas tree
sparingly decorated with tinsel and lights
but beneath were no presents in sight.
Jason watched his children
with sadness tinting his eyes
he knew how important
Christmas was to young lives.
He had tried to save through the year,
but there was always something needed
from the money he tried to save
clothes, food and shoes to wear.
Oh how he would have loved to see
them smile from ear to ear
instead of sadness in their eyes
for toys that wouldn’t be there.
He wished he hadn’t spent so much on petrol
when he was looking for a job
that he had walked the lonely miles
from refusal to rejection
and used the money to buy
his children a Christmas present collection.
The smiling face of his wife
cheered him little from his frown.
His thoughts were of his childhood
and the presents crowded around
the bottom of the tree,
of stockings filled with sweets, toys and fruit,
and creeping down the stairs at the first light of dawn
to see what Santa Claus had left.
Those were happy Christmases
not like this one so bare.
The children went to bed early
excitement filled the air
with the expectancy of presents under the tree,
which sadly would not be there.
Jason and his wife waited
until they were asleep
and then filled each stocking
with all that they could afford.
Then set about arranging
the few presents that they had
before they themselves retired to their bed.
The silence of the night
was disturbed by a rustling sound
of old iron chains
being dragged across the ground.
No one in the house heard it
as in sleep they lie
as in crept the spirit of a slave
from centuries gone by.
The ghost climbed the stairs
dragging his chains behind,
flitted from room to room
as if by some design.
Downstairs he hurled himself
in a sliding fashion
his moans were but a whisper
that could be mistaken as the wind.
He then flew around again
over everywhere he’d been.
He flew around the Christmas tree
causing a few pine needles to fall
and as each needle hit the floor
a present appeared
until beneath the tree was no longer bare.
He rattled his chains again
this time they sounded like bells,
and then flew up the chimney
with muffled sooty yells.
The streaks of dawn broke the sky
the children woke with wonder
at the stocking on the end of the bed.
Stealing through the shadows
from the break of day,
they moved silently down the stairs
to the living room and the tree.
Unlike the night before
beneath the tree, you couldn’t see the floor
presents covered in multi-coloured paper
decorated the bottom of the tree.
Their faces lit up and they said
a lot of oohs and mees.
Jason woke to their joyful tones;
he looked at his wife in question
just as there came a sound
of laughter and running feet.
“Oh Mummy, Daddy
come see what Santa has brought.”
Said the little girl with golden curls
as she jumped up on their bed.
“Come and see, come and see.”
two other voices yelled.
Jason smiled and nodded
as the children returned downstairs.
With sighs, they threw back the covers
and followed the children down.
They stood in the living room doorway
with faces masked in question.
They looked at each other for answers,
neither had any to give,
just that their prayer had been heard
and that the spirit of Christmas
they now understood.
6 December 1983
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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