My Grandfather's Tears!
Stomack groans; my heart moans;
on the road, this mind roams.
What can I achieve in this life?
Eyes of my granddad dropp tears of sorrow
worrying for his ill-fated history;
expecting money from this boy jobless
to regain all his mortgaged estates.
I didn’t reclaim all his lands from a
money lender wild and heartless fickle fiend.
Failure in business sailed him to Lanka
and from there to work in Malaysia.
Brought his wealth to his native village
soon to be a landlord esteemed.
What he earned off, lost to the lender,
What he inherited, remained for his five sons.
People called me a Gandhian’s grandson
For he took part in freedom struggles.
Laying link roads to our village
Pawned his lands and bade bye to his soul.
The wealth he brought home gave him status
but his sons were useless and thoughtless.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Related quotes
Forms of Wealth
To money is attributed wealth
But the open truth of wealth
Is, It is not the only kind of wealth—
There are also other forms of wealth!
Good health is the best form of wealth
Forging rich links in relationships is wealth
Spontaneous love for all life forms is wealth
To have enthusiasm in life is wealth.
Acquiring life-long learning is wealth
Experience and wisdom in life is wealth
Meeting new people is also wealth
Visiting new places too is authentic wealth.
The quest to explore something is wealth
To have a positive mind-set is wealth
Existence of deep internal peace is wealth
Early morning waking up with joy is wealth.
Possessing high self-respect is wealth
Having strong spiritual connection is wealth
There exist so many types of wealth
Constitute all these and you're with full wealth!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Sita - 2
Sita
stumbling with the stones of forest
reached the cottage of
Maharshi Balmiki
the great sage gave her shelter
to stay in the cottage
Sita spend her days and nights
with the tribals
in the memory of her beloved husband
gave birth of two sons
Lav and Kush
both sons were brought up with tribals
acquired the knowledge and
to sing the Ramayana
one day both sons reached
the palace of his father
begging and singing on Ramayana
a long story is hidden in between
when Sita met her beloved husband
she prayed the mother earth
to immerse her
on her heart
it was the end of Sita
the ideal indian lady
who vowed only for her beloved Rama
an ideal to the people of the earth also.
Her whole world was limited
to her two sons
the most obedient to her husband
to the people of state Ayodhyay
capable to cross the fire - examination
to show her tranquility
after return from Lanka
to show the people her purity
for the sake of people of Ayodhyaya
the brave and intelligent lady
in the history of the world
who always honoured the society
being worshipped by the Indian
for her sacrifice to the society
and the people of his country
but i could not stop my tears
while imaging Sita
my eyes burst into tears.
poem by Ramesh Rai
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Let us create wealth for me..(the investors)
Creating wealth is very simple:
If you have three pay slips,
You can buy that expensive car,
Drive through the street on par.
You can buy an apartment in down town,
Where you can find people of your kind,
Electronic gadgets are inexpensive,
And you can change them as you wish,
Fancy restaurants are too many,
Where you can spend your hard earned money,
Creating wealth is not a problem to me,
As long as people like you around me,
I am an investor with huge oil money,
He is an accomplice to steal the honey,
We are the people behind the curtain,
Creating the wealth for certain,
Keeping you as indebted as you are,
We create the wealth,
Above the ground,
Creating wealth is very simple,
If you have three pay slips.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Weary With No Remorse
The end of the road for the tired aching body
is welcomed with open arms.
For the toil and labor while living
is accepted and never alarms
the ones that accept their fate.
But the moneymaker and money lender
who's built his life on lies
can never accept his fortuneless end
no matter how he tries.
All their lives they've been lacking in grace
and never understood
how the ones who struggle for life
have always withstood
all the strife that is theirs while they're living
and cast aside their pain?
While the money maker and money lender
moves forward and does remain
soulless until he dies.
For the blind to see he must awaken to truth
and become what he's not been,
kind, compassionate with awareness of deeds
that were rotten to the core with sin.
For all that glitters is certainly not gold
and cannot be counted on.
The mountainous climb of the tired and poor
is hard and all uphill.
And yet the spirit of those who toil
allows for their bucket to fill.
It fills with the knowledge that accompanies life
and is sated in the end
with every solitary contentment that comes
as he does ascend,
while never looking back.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Terrible People
People who have what they want are very fond of telling people who haven't what they want that they really don't want it,
And I wish I could afford to gather all such people into a gloomy castle on the Danube and hire half a dozen capable Draculas to haunt it.
I dont' mind their having a lot of money, and I don't care how they employ it,
But I do think that they damn well ought to admit they enjoy it.
But no, they insist on being stealthy
About the pleasures of being wealthy,
And the possession of a handsome annuity
Makes them think that to say how hard it is to make both ends meet is their bounden duity.
You cannot conceive of an occasion
Which will find them without some suitable evasion.
Yes indeed, with argumetsn they are very fecund;
Their first point is that money isn't everything, and that they have no money anyhow is their second.
Some people's money is merited,
And other people's is inherited,
But wherever it comes from,
They talk about it as if it were something you got pink gums from.
Perhaps indeed the possession of wealth is constantly distressing,
But I should be quite willing to assume every curse of wealth if I could at the same time assume every blessing.
The only incurable troubles of the rich are the troubles that money can't cure,
Which is a kind of trouble that is even more troublesome if you are poor.
Certainly there are lots of things in life that money won't buy, but it's very funny -
Have you ever tried to buy them without money?
poem by Ogden Nash
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Homecoming Of A Wanderer (To Bhupen Hazarika)
He returned home through the same village roads,
Some morning declaring his fight against time and its tides,
through which he had gone.
Declaring miles and miles of road shorter than his dreams through which he had gone..
Declaring himself anonymous and wanderer and leaving promises of returning winner.
through which he had gone,,,
He returned.
On his return, the village road saw the same villager and he returned on the same wheels of his dreams
And those dreams were still full of life.
On his return but he was no longer an anonymous, he earned a name which could travel boundaries of land, river, ocean and time as well..
And when he returned he was no longer a wanderer for everywhere he went he left a mark of the river of his village where he belonged and now he owned a home in thousands heart
On his return he was no longer a wanderer
He returned through the same village roads
but not without gifts of eternity..
gifts from the zenith of human limits,,
gifts of pride and honour,,
gifts of travelling the roads of life,,
larger than travelled by any one ever,,,
he returned for he had left with promises of returning to his mother.
For sunset is nowhere more peaceful than the laps of her..
Dedicated to the wanderer,
Money is Sacred
Money is so sacred, my mind is reactive
To the special things in life.
Too heavy in my mind is this life,
When money is donated to another life,
To give blood is easier.
Money is too sacred. Its business is supreme
And laudable. Most adorable. Why do you laugh?
Business makes you perfect. So what about the family?
Is it given its just help, or are you poor for yourself?
Money is sacred and wealth we be. We are not poor.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Psalm 49
Listen all ye people, rich and poor
Open up your ears and hear my heart
The rich man rests in the abundance of his wealth
Yet from this earth he surely shall depart
Oh rich man will your money, buy your brother's soul
Or will you take your money to the grave?
Will you not die, like any other man
And after death how will your money save?
You may conquer many lands, and build a house of gold
And upon the lintel have your name engraved
You may gather costly diamonds and heap up precious stones
Yet despite all this your soul shall not be saved
How foolish is the man, who only lives for gain?
He is foolish in heart and all his ways
He shall die with all the rest, they shall lay him in the grave
And in the darkness spend eternal days
poem by Frank McEleny
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My Ships
If all the ships I have at sea
Should come a-sailing home to me,
From sunny lands, and lands of cold,
Ah well! the harbor could not hold
So many sails as there would be
If all my ships came in from sea.
If half my ships came home from sea,
And brought their precious freight to me,
Ah, well! I should have wealth as great
As any king who sits in state,
So rich the treasures that would be
In half my ships now at sea.
If just one ship I have at sea
Should come a-sailing home to me,
Ah well! the storm clouds then might frown,
For if the others all went down
Still rich and proud and glad I’d be,
If that one ship came back to me.
If that one ship were down at sea,
And all the others came to me,
Weighed down with gems and wealth untold,
With glory, honor, riches, gold,
The poorest soul on earth I’d be
If that one ship came not to me.
O skies be calm! O winds blow free--
Blow all my ships safe home to me.
But if thou sendest some awrack
To never more come sailing back,
Send any--all that skim the sea--
But bring my love-ship home to me.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Writing Is Painful
Poverty cannot be romantic
If anything it is a sea bed
Of suffering and therein the hobo
And the money lender can sink
But the poverty of the soul and
The empty basket of the spirit
And the begging bowl of the
Mind are the modern sins
Into which the unwary will drown
Some spend life times and effort to
Acquire acquire money and power
This they say gives them status
There is power hidden in the leaves
Of the little things in life to whose
Pleading we pay scarce attention
Poetry is devastating like limpid
Water in less ignorant vicious ways
Best of all like music like a delightful
Beautiful woman poetry makes us happy
But writing is painful
And so is love
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Sonnet: Money
Money when God-given, will everlast;
Though spend you may like water for good deeds;
Money when earned by man will get spent fast;
And never can suffice to meet your needs.
Money when God-given will grow like trees,
And give you many luscious fruits and seeds;
Money when earned by man is gone with th'breeze,
And grows to be like scattered, useless weeds.
Money when God-given in time will stay;
Remaining blest, it helps to change man's fate;
Money when earned by man fritters away,
And invites vices, troubles, peoples' hate.
Money God-given can't beget evils,
The soul stays pure, resistant to devils.
poem by John Celes
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Freedom Fighter!
What is the use of having too much freedom,
When one fourth of you can't survive without a job,
After fourteen days in the western countries?
Liberty of having shelter, food and essentials are at stake,
One has no job and qualified to be cared and fed,
You are left to do whatever you like,
But your dialysis patients are faster to rest,
One dollar medicines are sold in many money fold,
Health care system is a scam and swindle.
You are rich, but indebted to every money lender,
How can you sleep peacefully with so many doubts,
You have sacrificed so much to get this freedom,
Sacrificed your freedom itself as you are given a timetable,
When mortgages, money and worldly things so crucial,
You have sacrificed many of your obligations essential.
Your children are still young at eighteen, but chased out,
In the name of freedom you showed them the path to hell,
Foul languages abundantly used even with parents and elders,
Parents are equally good at retaliation, if not the best,
Your women abandoned many of you to seek the solace,
In the bottles of alcohol and the road side mistresses,
What freedom are you talking about, when your mind is not free,
In certain places, people are happy and smile, as they are debt free.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Love the money
Money
Is not money...
It is life....
Money is not
Money
It is happy...
Money is
Not money
It is faith...
Money is not
Money
It is friend...
Money is not
Money
It is life maker...
Money is not
Money...
It is your hard work...
Money is not
Money...
poors god...
money is not
Money
Rich people Cap...
Money is not
Money
World wide all...
Any or many thing money
With money...
So...
Love the money...
Each every day...
Earn too enjoy
with your's life...
witrh good...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Epic of Life -33
Chase of money, wealth and money power
Lands human being in grief and despair.
The greed for the duo is quite insatiable
To achieve contentment, he can not be able.
Chase of ultimate power too is quite dangerous
The journey for the same is too much perilous.
Near absolute power, may it be money or muscle
Creates optimum enemies ready to him jostle.
Extreme of anything is often disastrous,
The best possible policy suggested Confucious
For mortal beings to adopt path golden middle,
Best it is to eat sugar being an ant little.
Money and also muscle are nodoubt necessary
For every one living to over-come his worries.
Money as also muscle as well as good health
Are means of living n can not be end ultimate.
poem by Ratnakar Mandlik
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Doing What - Money
I WOTE THIS ON 10-16-93 (EDITED)
Sure money can buy a car, a house, or even an expensive blouse,
can money buy true happiness?
There are people who waste money on illegal drugs to get them higher and higher,
yet from the Well where that money comes from tends to become
drier and drier, can money buy you emotional stability?
People are walking around without a decent pair of shoes,
a business man/woman loses all his/her money
in stock on Wall Street now he/she is crying the blues,
who strives for the needed money?
The United States is one big nation,
other lands coming to better their lives thru immigration,
parents putting out thousands for a child who doesn't want that
College education.
Is that money being used wisely or foolishly?
Families are living out on the street,
we all need shelter, medical, and a decent meal,
big money is being used to close large 'High Rise' business deals,
shouldn't good money be put out to help and to heal?
Some people are born into money,
I myself was not,
others earn their keep with hard earned labor,
eveyday I look to do a good deed for a friend, stranger or a neighbor,
I don't see it as having to ('owe You') ....
Now you see what money can do?
WE ALL NEED TO MAKE THE EFFORT TO MAKE SO SORT OF CHANGE IN THIS WORLD.
YET I KNOW IT'S HARD WHEN 'PEOPLE' IN GENERAL ARE ALWAYS LOOKING TO TAKE AND NOT WANT TO PITCH IN FOR NOTHING.....
poem by Linda I. Weischedel
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Money Ain’t God
Money is not God,
Albeit good health and great wealth
Will put a commoner in the position to afford
The most luxurious amenities on earth.
God is wealth;
Good health
Is the richest gift
That can be bestowed on a chief.
Money is like a gaud;
It is a fraud
To think that money is God.
A King or a Queen, without good health,
Is sinking at the bottom;
He or she is dead, indeed worthless.
A penniless pauper, with great health,
Is wealthier than one can fathom;
He or she is darn blessed.
God is wealth;
God is health;
Money ain’t God;
Money ain’t God.
Good health and great wealth
Are like divine gifts;
Adding a little wisdom and a good heart,
Such combo will put a cherub on a celestial lift,
Where life is wonderful and set apart.
God is wealth;
Good health
Is the richest gift
That can be bestowed on a chief.
Money is like a gaud,
It is a fraud
To think that money is God.
poem by Hebert Logerie
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The Wise Man
there was three men who met GOD.
and GOD said:
i will grant you the one thing
that you want most in the world.
the first man jumped up and replied:
i want to be the richest man in the world.
granted: GOD said
the second man said:
i want to be the most knowledgeable
man in the world.
granted: GOD said
then GOD turned to the third man and asked
what would you like?
the man pondered all the possibilities
and softly responded: 'free will'.
GOD looked at him and said:
you could have wealth or knowledge
like the other two, or health, love
anything that you want.
why did you pick free will?
well GOD: with free will, i could
make any choices that i want
and if it is wrong, i learn from the experience.
i could search for knowledge
and be able to achieve wealth
and read books to open
the mind that you have given me.
i could experience love, joy, sorrow,
happiness, sadness.
and use the five senses
that you have bestowed upon me.
let me see and feel all the beauties
of the world, and the wonders of my soul.
this is something that i could forever hold.
why would i want to change
what you have given me.
you don't make mistakes
this much i see.
GOD looked upon him and said:
you did not seek the material
things in this life.
but accepted what i have given.
and this is what is called 'living'.
you are truly one of the sons of GOD.
for it is within your heart.
poem by Louis Rams
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The Captains
The Captains sailed from all the World—from all the world and Spain;
And each one for his country’s ease, her glory and her gain;
The Captains sailed to Southern Seas, and sailed the Spanish Main;
And some sailed out beyond the World, and some sailed home again.
And each one for his daily bread, and bitter bread it was,
Because of things they’d left at home—or for some other cause.
Their wives and daughters made the lace to deck the Lady’s gown,
Where sailors’ wives sew dungarees by many a seaport town.
The Captains sailed in rotten ships, with often rotten crews,
Because their lands were ignorant and meaner than the ooze;
With money furnished them by Greed, or by ambition mean,
When they had crawled to some pig-faced, pig-hearted king or queen.
And when a storm was on the coast, and spray leaped o’er the quays,
Then little Joan or Dorothy, or Inez or Louise,
Would kneel her down on such a night beside her mother’s knees,
And fold her little hands and pray for those beyond the seas.
With the touching faith of little girls—the faith by love embalmed—
They’d pray for men beyond the seas who might have been becalmed.
For some will pray at CHRIST His feet, and some at MARY’S shrine;
And some to Heathen goddesses, as I have prayed to mine;
To Mecca or to Bethlehem, to Fire, or Joss, or Sol,
And one will pray to sticks or stones, and one to her rag doll.
But we are stubborn men and vain, and though we rise or fall,
Our children’s prayers or women’s prayers, GOD knows we need them all!
And no one fights the bitter gale, or strives in combat grim,
But, somewhere in the world, a child is praying hard for him.
The Captains sailed to India, to China and Japan.
They met the Strangers’ Welcome and the Friendliness of Man;
The Captains sailed to Southern Seas, and “wondrous sights” they saw—
The Rights of Man in savage lands, and law without a law.
They learnt the truth from savages, and wisdom from the wild,
And learned to walk in unknown ways, and trust them like a child.
(The sailors told of monstrous things that be where sailors roam . . .
But none had seen more monstrous things than they had seen at home.)
They found new worlds for crowded folk in cities old and worn,
And huts of hunger, fog and smoke in lands by Faction torn.
(They found the great and empty lands where Nations might be born.)
They found new foods, they found new wealth, and newer ways to live,
Where sons might grow in strength and health, with all that God would give.
They tracked their ways through unknown seas where Danger still remains,
And sailed back poor and broken men, and some sailed back in chains.
But, bound or free, or ill or well, where’er their sails were furled,
They brought to weary, worn-out lands glad tidings from the World.
The Seasons saw our fathers come, their flocks and herds increase;
They saw the old lands waste in War, the new lands waste in Peace;
The Seasons saw new gardens made, they saw the old lands bleed,
And into new lands introduced the curse of Class and Creed.
They saw the birth of Politics, and all was ripe for Greed.
And Mammon came and built his towers, and Mammon held the fort:
Till one new land went dollar-mad, and one went mad for Sport.
Where men for love of Science sailed in rotten tubs for years,
To hang or starve, while nought availed a wife or daughter’s tears—
Where men made life-long sacrifice for some blind Northern Power,
Now Science sinks a thousand souls, and sinks them in an hour.
You would be rich and great too soon—have all that mortal craves;
The day may come ere you have lived when you’ll be poor and slaves.
You heeded not the warning voice, for Self and Sport prevailed;
You yet might wish, in dust and dread, those Captains had not sailed.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Freedom
Life torments me day and night
never leaving me a moments rest
Oh! God if there is any above the sky
I need freedom, please listen to me
can you hear me, Freedom! Freedom!
I saw in the cold night
an aeroplane or a flying saucer
landed to the field where I stood
someone got down from the plane
and came towards me.
I asked him who are you?
He said a messenger from God
and he gave me a box of gold
which I could not hold
before I opened it, saw something written on the lid.
a gift from your forefathers
the wealth inside to all
those who have the faith in God
divide them into equal.
The box is full of money, oh! money is everything
dollars, pounds, marks, roubles, yens and et cetera.
I did not give a share to anybody and all I spent for myself.
I built a castle on the hilltop
and put a sign at the gate
'Beware of Dogs'
I am the almighty of all and ruling this world
the poor soul cried for freedom
even I am not free at all.
When he cried for freedom
I gave him money and he asked more
I gave him a spouse pure
he is nagging that she is barren
then I gave him children.
He never get satisfied ask more and more
finally I gave him the death.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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What Is The Value Of Money?
Money we all know is a medium of exchange
Buyers and sellers relate to each other through money
The question here is – what is the value of money?
Few say money is the root of all evil
Many say money is the root of prosperity
And how valuable is money
Almost everything is measured by money
People go to work everyday because of money
Wealth of individuals is measured by money
All purchases and transactions are made by money
Every country has a name for its own money
The importance of some countries
In based on the value of their money
What is the value of money?
The rise and fall of foreign exchange
Is used to measure the value of money
Success to many is also measured by money
Corporate positions are measured by money
There are some people who marry for money
What is the value of money?
To many, money is everything
You cannot get many things done without money
Many have pondered and contemplated to ask
Can human beings live without money?
Then, how shall we determine and decide
The prices of individuals and materials
Differences between the rich and the poor
Are calculated in monetary terms
The power bestowed by money
Seems bigger than imagined
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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