Lord Buddha begged.
The society has more thieves than beggars.
In a way, beggars are better than thieves.
They beg but steal not and get but usurp not.
Mortgaging their ego, they are begging.
It is easy to steal but hard to beg.
Give or not, don’t treat beggars with contempt.
Do treat them at par while you give them alms.
Feel elated while you offer them alms.
While giving, dispel their humiliation.
Lord Buddha too led His life as a beggar.
19.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Theme From The City Of Beggars
Free the beggars from poverty today
Free the beggars from the slam today
Free the beggars from slave labour
Give the beggars some hope today
Put a smile on the beggars face
The beggars are starving today
So go ahead and feed the beggars some bread and water
Because that is better than nothing
Give the beggars the same right
That the rich got
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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City Of Beggars
The sky is always blue in the city of beggars
There is not much green in the city of beggars
There are buildings being built so fast in the city of beggars
In every corner that you encounter
The city of beggars are growing so fast
And in the city of beggars lives 30 million people
The air is not that good in the city of beggars
Because of the factories and the cars
The city of beggars never sleep
The noise goes on 24 hours a day
It is not safe to walk in the street of beggars
Because you can get robbed and killed at any time of the night or day
The traffic is chaotic in the city of beggars
Thanks God there is no snow in the city of beggars
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Beggars Day
If this is heaven, then Im in hell
If trust is misfortune, then wish me well
While I think of sadness baby
Your light shines through, your light shines through
Your light shines through
Chorus:
Because its beggars day
Because its beggars day
Because its beggars day
Ive lost control of my darker side
A world all for free, on a nastier ride
*and I have crossed myself in anger
All your mercy cant save me, all your mercy cant save me
All your mercy cant save me
Because its beggars day
Because its beggars day
Because its beggars day
Lead:
Its beggars day
You know its beggars day
Because its beggars day
See this love, Ive stored for you
Wheel it and deal it, but our feelins are true
Repeat *
Chorus (2x)
(written by nils lofgren)
(published by almo music corp./hilmer publishing co. ascap)
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who is a beggar and who is not
Take your coin, I am no beggar
In our country
Beggars are less uncommon
They are there anywhere
Except
Cemeteries
Burial ground and
Cremation yard
They beg you so pathetically
That you are forced to dropp a coin
Pavements invariably
Irrespective of the city
House beggars
You can make out them
By the way they look
Women beg
Pointing to us the little child
They carry on their waist
Old ladies too beg
And they station themselves
Against you in your path
Making it difficult for you
To step ahead further
While you are on a wait
Either bus stop
Rail station
Park or beach
Some one or the other appear before you
Begging
Truly speaking
It hurts me to turn away someone
Asking for alms
Without getting them something
Some hold the view
That they need not help beggars
As they are not the one
Who made beggars beg
Begging should be discouraged
And to do that
Beggars should not be helped
Is some others’ view point
I am not quite sure
Whether to help beggars or not
I normally dropp a coin of least denomination
In the begging bowl or in the opened up palms of a beggar
Provided I have the coin
If I do not have a coin to part with
Or if I do not have the mind to help
I muster the strength
To tell the beggar
That I have no changes to spare
This morning
I was rushing to the office
After getting down from the bus
I saw a middle aged male
Who was rolling down on the tar topped road
Sitting on roller-fixed wooden plank
Pushing with the help of has hands
It appeared he had no legs
I decided to help him with a coin
As I got nearer
I came to understand that he was polio affected
Both his legs becoming non functional
Of late, thin and feeble
I ran my hand through my left pant pocket
Got hold of a coin of a better denomination
Than the one I normally prefer to drop
Stood by his side
As he was enjoying a puff of a lighted cigarette
On his lips
He did not lift his face
Having waited for some seconds
I decided to dropp that coin
I did the same
And started going towards office
I heard the rolling of wheels
When I looked back
The person on the wheel-fixed plank
Pointed his right index finger
Towards the dropped coin
About four metres on the backside
And said curtly
Take your coin
I am no beggar
As I reached the spot
And picked up the coin
I felt too small of me
And in fact, beg for the knowledge
As to know
Who is a beggar and who is not
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Hard criminals
Beggars don’t prefer to be thieves.
Thieves don’t prefer to be robbers.
They all don’t have eye for women.
The rapists are hard criminals.
30.04.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The filth of the culture.
Beggars are a few who beg for food.
Beggars are a few who beg for money.
Beggars are plenty who beg for acceptance.
It reflects the filth of the culture.
10.10.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beggar Of Love
Unlucky unfortunates
The poorest of the poor
Beggar of the beggars
Begging love on the roads.
Don't keep begging love
Rather give me your love, all
I shall lend it to my heart and soul
Just to plant to grow in multiple
Just to return with interest along with the principle
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Beggarliness
The cats march on to the backyard
Of my house and leave their kitten,
taking it for a safe haven.
When I come upon a dog
lying beside the walls of the school,
with its pups rolling over it,
I buy biscuits from a shop
and feed them with grace.
When the rats pluck up courage
to hold jamborees in the porch,
I don’t beat them or drive them out
fearing to be infected with rat-fever.
But I put coleslaw for them to eat.
When little lamps jump into my office room,
and let down their balls of dung,
I smile, lift them up and give them
to the girls of lower classes.
When I see beggars lame or blind,
I touch the coins in my pocket
but hesitate to give them;
as most of them tell tales of lies.
They get freebies from the Government
yet their list swells in trains and public places.
Some who run private homes to orphans
send the inmates to beg in streets
But they beg from cinestars and the rich
with a printed receipt book in hand.
The old ones plead starvation
and go on cheating pliable public.
Some ladies and the differently -abled
roam to beg with letters in trains and buses.
Some criminals appeal for alms with appalling faces.
Terrorists too beg from the rich and cinestars
and demand donations without giving receipts.
Fake sages and seers receive funds from abroad
to frustrate the addicts from drugs
and the men and women garbless to meditate in halls.
When the beggars blockmail me
and curse me to have a dog’s life,
how can I purse my lips and refuse alms?
----------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Beggars Farm
Youre taking chances. and your reputations going down.
Going out in the night-time. you think you make no sound.
But you dont fool me. 'cos I know what you feel.
If you ignore the things I say --
Someday soons gonna find you
'way down on beggars farm.
I pay my money for no returns.
I think I need you. going to find someone.
Oh, you dont fool me. 'cos I know what you feel.
When you go out I ask you why.
And I wont worry when I see you lying
Down on beggars farm.
When you run to me, going to turn away.
Wont even listen when you try to say
That you were only fooling around --
'cos I know what you feel.
But if you ask me nicely, woman --
Ill wake up early one day soon and
Ill visit you down on beggars farm.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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St.Gregory's Guest
A TALE for Roman guides to tell
To careless, sight-worn travellers still,
Who pause beside the narrow cell
Of Gregory on the Caelian Hill.
One day before the monk's door came
A beggar, stretching empty palms,
Fainting and fast-sick, in the name
Of the Most Holy asking alms.
And the monk answered, 'All I have
In this poor cell of mine I give,
The silver cup my mother gave;
In Christ's name take thou it, and live.'
Years passed; and, called at last to bear
The pastoral crook and keys of Rome,
The poor monk, in Saint Peter's chair,
Sat the crowned lord of Christendom.
'Prepare a feast,' Saint Gregory cried,
'And let twelve beggars sit thereat.'
The beggars came, and one beside,
An unknown stranger, with them sat.
'I asked thee not,' the Pontiff spake,
'O stranger; but if need be thine,
I bid thee welcome, for the sake
Of Him who is thy Lord and mine.'
A grave, calm face the stranger raised,
Like His who on Gennesaret trod,
Or His on whom the Chaldeans gazed,
Whose form was as the Son of God.
'Know'st thou,' he said, 'thy gift of old?'
And in the hand he lifted up
The Pontiff marvelled to behold
Once more his mother's silver cup.
'Thy prayers and alms have risen, and bloom
Sweetly among the flowers of heaven.
I am The Wonderful, through whom
Whate'er thou askest shall be given.'
He spake and vanished. Gregory fell
With his twelve guests in mute accord
Prone on their faces, knowing well
Their eyes of flesh had seen the Lord.
The old-time legend is not vain;
Nor vain thy art, Verona's Paul,
Telling it o'er and o'er again
On gray Vicenza's frescoed wall.
Still wheresoever pity shares
Its bread with sorrow, want, and sin,
And love the beggar's feast prepares,
The uninvited Guest comes in.
Unheard, because our ears are dull,
Unseen, because our eyes are dim,
He walks our earth, The Wonderful,
And all good deeds are done to Him.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deepavali - ‘The Festival of Lights
If light must enter every space,
And dispel darkness upon earth,
It must be bright and held aloft,
And permeate all corners, nooks!
If good must win over evil,
Open your hearts and feel contrite
For sins, you did both seen, unseen,
And ask God's pardon in earnest.
If sounds of crackers must give joy,
Just think of those lives that got lost,
Trying to make them for your sake,
Putting their own lives at great risk!
If sweets and savories taste swell,
Remember those who toiled for you,
Both day and night, for weeks ahead,
To make them dainty to relish!
If clothes anew makes you feel great,
Think of those unlucky naked,
Who can't afford to hide their frame,
And spend their lives upon pavements!
If you visit temples to pray,
Give alms to beggars on your way,
And make them glad and beam out smiles,
And watch their faces glow with joy!
Yet, one must celebrate this day,
And feel much happy, come what may;
Giving and sharing gives more joy
Than receiving but well, enjoy!
‘Happy Deepavali to all Indians world-o'er! '
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-11-'12
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I See The Door
As sirens screamed out in the darkness
And fire fell down from the sky
As we cowered again in the bunker
We all knew the reason why
As our houses lay in ruins
And our sons were shot side by side
As the devil danced upon the graveyard
We all knew who's to blame
"For I am not one of the cowards
For I'm neither mortal nor weak
For I am the one you have longed for
A new master-race forsee"
He that is without sin among you
Let him first cast a stone on you...
Joh. 8,1
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride
If leaders feed beggars, a nation of beggars will fight
Those you once seduced
Are now here to be crucified
The principle of a fool
Who's betrayed and sacrificed
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war
All hot and bleeding will we offer them:
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
Up to the ears in blood...
Shakespeare
song performed by by Verve
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I See The Door
As sirens screamed out in the darkness
And fire fell down from the sky
As we cowered again in the bunker
We all knew the reason why
As our houses lay in ruins
And our sons were shot side by side
As the devil danced upon the graveyard
We all knew who's to blame
"For I am not one of the cowards
For I'm neither mortal nor weak
For I am the one you have longed for
A new master-race forsee"
He that is without sin among you
Let him first cast a stone on you...
Joh. 8,1
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride
If leaders feed beggars, a nation of beggars will fight
Those you once seduced
Are now here to be crucified
The principle of a fool
Who's betrayed and sacrificed
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war
All hot and bleeding will we offer them:
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
Up to the ears in blood...
Shakespeare
song performed by by Verve
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Widow At Windsor
'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead?
She 'as ships on the foam -- she 'as millions at 'ome,
An' she pays us poor beggars in red.
(Ow, poor beggars in red!)
There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses,
There's 'er mark on the medical stores --
An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind
That takes us to various wars.
(Poor beggars! -- barbarious wars!)
Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor,
An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns,
The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces
O' Missis Victorier's sons.
(Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!)
Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor,
For 'alf o' Creation she owns:
We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' the flame,
An' we've salted it down with our bones.
(Poor beggars! -- it's blue with our bones!)
Hands off o' the sons o' the Widow,
Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop,
For the Kings must come down an' the Emperors frown
When the Widow at Windsor says "Stop"!
(Poor beggars! -- we're sent to say "Stop"!)
Then 'ere's to the Lodge o' the Widow,
From the Pole to the Tropics it runs --
To the Lodge that we tile with the rank an' the file,
An' open in form with the guns.
(Poor beggars! -- it's always they guns!)
We 'ave 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor,
It's safest to let 'er alone:
For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land
Wherever the bugles are blown.
(Poor beggars! -- an' don't we get blown!)
Take 'old o' the Wings o' the Mornin',
An' flop round the earth till you're dead;
But you won't get away from the tune that they play
To the bloomin' old rag over'ead.
(Poor beggars! -- it's 'ot over'ead!)
Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow,
Wherever, 'owever they roam.
'Ere's all they desire, an' if they require
A speedy return to their 'ome.
(Poor beggars! -- they'll never see 'ome!)
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Beggar To Mab, The Fairy Queen
Please your Grace, from out your store
Give an alms to one that's poor,
That your mickle may have more.
Black I'm grown for want of meat,
Give me then an ant to eat,
Or the cleft ear of a mouse
Over-sour'd in drink of souce;
Or, sweet lady, reach to me
The abdomen of a bee;
Or commend a cricket's hip,
Or his huckson, to my scrip;
Give for bread, a little bit
Of a pease that 'gins to chit,
And my full thanks take for it.
Flour of fuz-balls, that's too good
For a man in needy-hood;
But the meal of mill-dust can
Well content a craving man;
Any orts the elves refuse
Well will serve the beggar's use.
But if this may seem too much
For an alms, then give me such
Little bits that nestle there
In the pris'ner's pannier.
So a blessing light upon
You, and mighty Oberon;
That your plenty last till when
I return your alms again.
poem by Robert Herrick
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To be called beggar
It is curse on earth to be called beggar
It hurts a person as if inserted with the dragger
Who can like such remarks when had plenty?
He is spending life now as beggar with fallen grace from almighty
The cycle changes in everybody's life
Sometimes from the treachery of wife
Sometimes cheated by own relatives
When person remains choosey and subjective
See the lines on the face of beggar
He may look at you with agony and fear
Expecting no big amount but small coin
Collect few and come back to family to join
Not all beggars may have family of their own
Some of them may be earning more and popularly know
Yet majority of them suffer under trauma
As life has cheated them by playing drama
I hesitated for a moment to dropp coin in his hand
He was helpless but had bright eyes and looked as friend
I saw some compulsion in his eyes and felt bad
The same situation can come in our life too and make sad
Even if you want to donate or give with willingness
Give it with pleasure and happiness of face
Never make it known that it is just a gesture
God has given you plenty and act is noble and pure
Let us wish such days not come in anybody's life
It is treacherous and disgraceful to feel edge of knife
Person dies at every moment and finds no answer
Summer, hot sun and rain make their life miserable with showers
Some of the people even act as beggars
They may hold fortune under safe custody and fear
They may find no proper sleep and suffer restless nights
He is beggar by virtue and another is penniless in the street
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. Matthew (Chapter 6)
‘Let righteous deeds be performed then,
Such that the people don’t see them;
For, otherwise, you can’t expect
Reward from your heavenly Father! ’
‘When you give alms, give quietly;
Don’t like hypocrites blow trumpet,
In synagogues and in the streets
To win the praise of all others.’
‘When you give alms, let your left hand
Not know what your right is doing;
Let it be secret alms-giving,
So that, your Father repays you.’
‘Don’t pray like hypocrites who stand
In synagogues and street-corners,
And pray so that others can see.’
‘They have had their reward, ’ I say.
‘Go to your inner room to pray,
And close the door and in secret,
Ask your Father all that you want.
Your Father then will repay you! ’
‘Don’t babble like how pagans do,
Who think their prayers will be heard
Because they have so many words.
Your Father knows before you ask.’
Then, this is how you are to pray:
‘Our Father in heaven,
Hallowed be your name;
Your kingdom come,
Your will be done on earth,
As it is in heaven.’
‘Give us today our bread;
Forgive our debts,
As we forgive our debtors;
Don’t bring us to the final test;
Deliver us from evil One! ’
‘Forgive transgressions of others;
Then forgive you, will your Father;
If you don’t forgive your brothers,
Neither will He, you, your Father.’
‘Don’t gloomy be, whenev’r you fast;
Your face shouldn’t show that you’re downcast;
The hypocrites reveal their fast;
Amen, I say, they’ve got reward.
Whenev’r you fast, anoint your head,
And wash your face to appear fresh;
Your Father alone should know it;
He’ll repay in a manner fit.’
‘Don’t store for yourself earth’s treasures,
Where moth-destroyed and decay sets,
And thieves break in to steal them off;
Store up your treasures in heaven,
Where moth or decay don’t destroy,
And thieves don’t break in to steal them.
For, where your treasures tends to lie,
Your heart will tend to stay near-by! ’
‘The eye serves as the body’s lamp;
If eye be sound, body has light;
If eye is bad, body has night;
If body’s light in darkness stays,
How much more darkness, one will face? ’
‘Know that one can’t serve two masters;
He’ll hate the one and love the next,
Or be devoted just to one.’
‘You can’t serve God and too mammon.’
‘Is life not more than food and drink?
Isn’t body more than just clothing? ’
‘Look at the birds of sky so blue;
They neither sow nor do they reap;
They gather nothing into barns;
Yet, your heav’nly Father feeds them! ’
Aren’t you more important than they? ’
‘Can one of you by worrying add
A single moment to life-span?
Why are you anxious of your clothes?
Learn from the flowers wild to grow;
They neither work nor do they spin;
I tell you, not ev’n Solomon
Was in his splendor, clothed alike,
The gorgeous flowers in the wild.’
‘If God so clothes the grass of fields,
Which grow to be thrown in fire,
Will He not provide more for you,
O you, of little faith. have you? ’
‘So, do not worry what to eat?
And do not worry what to drink?
And do not worry what to wear?
All such things, pagans also seek.
Your heav’nly Father knows your need.’
‘So, seek the kingdom of God first,
And seek His righteousness and love;
All things will be given besides.’
‘Do not worry about morrow;
Tomorrow takes care of itself;
Each day has share of own evil! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-29-2007
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I know that a man who shows me his wealth is like the beggar who shows me his poverty; they are both looking for alms from me, the rich man for the alms of my envy, the poor man for the alms of my guilt.
How Many More Times
How many more times,
Treat me the way you wanna do?
How many more times,
Treat me the way you wanna do?
When I give you all my love,
Please, please be true.
Ill give you all Ive got to give,
Rings, pearls, and all.
Ill give you all Ive got to give,
Rings, pearls, and all.
Ive got to get you together baby,
Im sure, sure youre gonna crawl.
Wanna love some other man too!
I was a young man, I couldnt resist
Started thinkin it all over, just what I had missed.
Got me a girl and I kissed her and then and then...
Whoops, oh lordy, well I did it again.
Now I got ten children of my own
I got another child on the way that makes eleven.
But Im in constant heaven.
I know its all right in my mind
cause I got a little schoolgirl and shes all mine
I cant get through to her cause it doesnt permit
But Im gonna give her everything Ive got to give.
Oh, rosie, oh, girl x2
Steal away now, steal away
Steal away baby, steal away
Little robert anthony wants to come and play.
Why dont you come to me baby?
Steal away, all right, all right...
Well they call me the hunter, thats my name
They call me the hunter, thats how I got my fame
Aint no need to hide,
Aint no need to run
cause Ive got you in the sights of my..........gun!
How many more times
Barrelhouse all night long, all right!
How many more times
Barrelhouse all night long?
Ive got to get to you, baby
Baby, please come home.
Why dont you listen to me babe?
Why dont you please come home? x3
Ooh!
song performed by by Led Zeppelin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet XXII: Love, Banish'd Heav'n
Love, banish'd Heav'n, on Earth was held in scorn,
Wand'ring abroad in need and beggary,
And wanting friends, though of a Goddess born,
Yet crav'd the alms of such as passed by.
I, like a man devout and charitable,
Clothed the naked, lodg'd this wand'ring guest,
With sighs and tears still furnishing his table
With what might make the miserable blest.
But this ungrateful, for my good desert,
Entic'd my thoughts against me to conspire,
Who gave consent to steal away my heart,
And set my breast, his lodging, on a fire.
Well, well, my friends, when beggars grow thus bold,
No marvel then though charity grow cold.
poem by Michael Drayton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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