Go a beggar
Better go a beggar than being with kin
For your bed and bread so that you can stall
Ill treatments at their hand for the scars
You might have inflicted on them earlier.
27.03.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Jesus Holds My Hand
I saw Jesus last night.
He layed beside me,
held my hand.
I felt his scars.
They didn't make me sad.
The scars are happy.
Jesus said i have scars too.
You just can't see them.
My scars cut deep
So i can't escape them.
Jesus said to give him my scars.
That he carried the sorows of the world.
I gave my scars to God last night.
He still holds my hand.
And i love Jesus.
Can you?
The Scars That U Leave
I don’t know how much more
How much more I can take
Of this crap you keep doing
Every night I go to bed
With the scars of the day
Scars that you inflicted
And the pain searing through my body
A pain that was caused by your hands
Inflicted by your hatred
A pain remembered the next morning
Only to be added to that night
A never ending pain
As the wounds are never left to heal
But are added to
Over and over again
Know I add a new pain
A pain I inflict on myself
A cut that you didn’t make
But was caused by you all the same
poem by Layla Joseph
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Everyone needs to be proactive and know the various warning signs of cancer. Early detection and research to make detection easier at earlier stages, along with the treatments needs, is still a must. I salute all those winning the battle.
quote by Dennis Franz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Everyone Who Has Been On a Terrorist Binge
One man is clearly brilliant.
While the other is fairly clever.
However one has scars remaining...
In a mind still clinging onto war.
And yet the other tries to convince...
Those mental wars will end.
And he recommends...
Psychological treatments,
To begin for everyone...
Who has been on a terrorist binge.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No, I can't write treatments, I think there's a danger with treatments. That you... you write out your first excitement and enthusiasm in a prose treatment.
quote by Ronald Harwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Intentional
No matter what may be done or said,
When that action in time takes place...
Someone will feel left out instead.
Not because of the action,
Done or said.
But how it was related when instigated.
Whoever made it fun for one,
To berate another with a blurting tongue...
The day will come,
When a similar deed is repeated.
With a singing of a song sung,
Or a tune heard hummed.
With no exit to ignore it to escape or leave,
The perpetrator remembered...
Will then be seeking empathy.
That no one with heart and soul intact,
Will care to release to relieve.
To set one free from memories.
This Earth is not flat,
It looks as if round.
And rotates on an axis,
To return to a place of origin always found.
And that is a fact when one sits to think,
Of those thoughts trapped to sit cemented...
In intentional inequities inflicted to sting and meant!
Inflicted to sting and meant!
What goes around...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
Comes around...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
What goes around...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
Comes around...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
It is all quite intentional.
'Never accuse me again,
Of not having substance! '
Inflicted to sting and meant!
'Never...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
Accuse...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
Me...
Inflicted to sting and meant!
Again! '
Inflicted to sting and meant!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Spaewife
OH, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry.
An’ siller, that ’s sae braw to keep, is brawer still to gi’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Hoo a’things come to be whaur we find them when we try,
The lasses in their claes an’ the fishes in the sea.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why lads are a’ to sell an’lasses a’ to buy;
An’ naebody for dacency but barely twa or three.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Gin death’s as shure to men as killin’ is to kye,
Why God has filled the yearth sae fu’ o’ tasty things to pree.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
The reason o’ the cause an’ the wherefore o’ the why,
Wi’ mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hind Horn
In Scotland there was a babie born,
Lill lal, etc.
And his name it was called young Hind Horn.
With a fal lal, etc.
He sent a letter to our king
That he was in love with his daughter Jean.
He's gien to her a silver wand,
With seven living lavrocks sitting thereon.
She's gien to him a diamond ring,
With seven bright diamonds set therein.
"When this ring grows pale and wan,
You may know by it my love is gane."
One day as he looked his ring upon,
He saw the diamonds pale and wan.
He left the sea and came to land,
And the first that he met was an old beggar man.
"What news, what news?" said young Hind Horn;
"No news, no news," said the old beggar man.
"No news," said the beggar, "no news at a',
But there is a wedding in the king's ha.
"But there is a wedding in the king's ha,
That has halden these forty days and twa."
"Will ye lend me your begging coat?
And I'll lend you my scarlet cloak.
"Will you lend me your beggar's rung?
And I'll gie you my steed to ride upon.
"Will you lend me your wig o hair,
To cover mine, because it is fair?"
The auld beggar man was bound for the mill,
But young Hind Horn for the king's hall.
The auld beggar man was bound for to ride,
But young Hind Horn was bound for the bride.
When he came to the king's gate,
He sought a drink for Hind Horn's sake.
The bride came down with a glass of wine,
When he drank out the glass, and dropt in the ring.
"O got ye this by sea or land?
Or got ye it off a dead man's hand?"
"I got not it by sea, I got it by land,
And I got it, madam, out of your own hand."
"O I'll cast off my gowns of brown,
And beg wi you frae town to town.
"O I'll cast off my gowns of red,
And I'll beg wi you to win my bread."
"Ye needna cast off your gowns of brown,
For I'll make you lady o many a town.
"Ye needna cast off your gowns of red,
It's only a sham, the begging o my bread."
The bridegroom he had wedded the bride,
But young Hind Horn he took her to bed.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Of Charity
A beggar died last night; his soul
Went up to God, and said:
'I come uncalled, forgive it, Lord;
I died for want of bread.'
Then answered him the Lord of heaven:
'Son, how can this thing be?
Are not my saints on earth? and they
Had surely succoured thee.'
'Thy saints, O Lord,' the beggar said,
'Live holy lives of prayer;
How should they know of such as we?
We perish unaware.
'They strive to save our wicked souls
And fit them for the sky;
Meanwhile, not having bread to eat,
(Forgive!) our bodies die.'
Then the Lord God spake out of heaven
In wrath and angry pain:
'O men, for whom my Son hath died,
My Son hath lived in vain!'
poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Scars
Now I see that you are pushing me away,
The scars remain as my pain,
I can see that my veins are full of scars,
Scars of remaining past,
Scars from all those cutting,
Scars from all the pain I went through,
Love is vain,
The rain might pour down,
But nothing has stop me from seeing the scars I have left behind,
Nothing can’t stop me from seeing the remaining scars,
All my scars, all my memories remain as my pain.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beggar To Beggar Cried
'TIME to put off the world and go somewhere
And find my health again in the sea air,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And make my soul before my pate is bare.-
'And get a comfortable wife and house
To rid me of the devil in my shoes,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And the worse devil that is between my thighs.'
And though I'd marry with a comely lass,
She need not be too comely -- let it pass,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'But there's a devil in a looking-glass.'
'Nor should she be too rich, because the rich
Are driven by wealth as beggars by the itch,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And cannot have a humorous happy speech.'
'And there I'll grow respected at my ease,
And hear amid the garden's nightly peace.'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'The wind-blown clamour of the barnacle-geese.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wised Up
I'm the one
Whose paid
The price
The scars that healed
Are mine
Other wounds
Are open sores
Self-inflicted
Or otherwise
Too painful
To be scabbed over.
poem by Vince Gullaci
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
That studies have shown that more people are getting up earlier, they're getting their news earlier. They're getting less sleep, getting up at earlier hours.
quote by Katie Couric
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Heroes and heroines
A woman cannot write
How a woman looks
As a man does about her.
A man cannot write
How a woman feels
As a woman does about her.
Authors’ heroines and
Authoresses’ heroes
Suffer at their treatments.
06.11.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Picture Of Greed
on one hand
he carries a
big loaf of bread
on the other
he carries a
basket
of the same
loaf of bread
on his head
is another
basket of
the same loaf
of bread
a little child
spreads his
hands for
a loaf of bread
then he speeds
his way
as he bites
a loaf of
bread in
his mouth
the little child
follows him
and there he
is closing the
door of his
house all
made of bread
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Reproof
Mamma heard me with scorn and pride
A wretched beggar-boy deride.
'Do you not know,' said I, 'how mean
It is to be thus begging seen?
If for a week I were not fed,
I'm sure I would not beg my bread.'
And then away she saw me stalk
With a most self-important walk.
But meeting her upon the stairs,
All these my consequential airs
Were changed to an entreating look.
'Give me,' said I, 'the pocket-book,
Mamma, you promised I should have.'
The pocket-book to me she gave;
After reproof and counsel sage
She bade me write in the first page
This naughty action all in rhyme;
No food to have until the time,
In writing fair and neatly worded,
The unfeeling fact I had recorded.
Slow I compose, and slow I write;
And now I feel keen hunger bite.
My mother's pardon I entreat,
And beg she'll give me food to eat.
Dry bread would be received with joy
By her repentant beggar-boy.
poem by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lady at the Desk Wouldn't Understand
And it comes to this
Him putting back in his teeth
with one hand
Standing back to me
stall door open in the men's
bathroom at the Central Library
This rainy cold morning
he's just bathed
washed his clothes
repacked all he has
This rainy cold morning
I've been trying my hand
updating my resume
preparing for a job interview
I was able to
sleep in a little
shower shave at home
breakfast with my wife
He 's been tring to
keep warm
stay awake and
not get thrown out
Right now he
in the stall
me at a urinal
we're just two guys
taking a piss
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Better quit it.
If you don a dog, you must bark.
Be in rags to act as a beggar.
To your profession, be honest.
If not fit, better you quit it.
28.03.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Scars
We all have scars.
Some visible and some hidden to the world.
We sometimes try to hide the physically scars because we think it is ugly,
but really having scars is not a bad thing.
It reminds us we can heal and get through the bad times both physically and mentally when we are ripped or torn apart.
So embrace you scars and keep on healing.
For healing and battling is a part of life.
Let people see your scars and how strong you are by healing.
poem by Christina J. Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The hunger bowl
The one whose ego is hungry
Is poorer than the beggar
Whose stomach is often empty.
The hunger bowl will not expand.
08.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!