The problematic child
Necessity is the mother of invention,
People say. Then we can say like that:
Wealth is the mother of comforts,
And poverty, of meanness.
Wealth is the mother of indolence too.
So is poverty, of viciousness.
Wealth and poverty near by
Deliver discontent,
Which is a problematic child.
04.01.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Related quotes
Wealth is the parent of luxury and indolence, and poverty of meanness and viciousness, and both of discontent.
Poverty-I
Lot of hunger and having no food is poverty,
Not having spare cloth to take bath is poverty,
Needing a shelter but not having one is poverty,
Child's sick but can not buy treatment, is poverty,
Fainting child dreaming a mouthful of rice is poverty
Searching warmth in cold flesh in winter nights, is poverty,
Sitting with umbrella on wetting bed in showering night, is poverty,
Thoughtful mother, two mouthful of rice and three children, is poverty,
An ill, deserted mother selling her child wishing it will survive, is poverty.
A defeated and desponded mother poisoning and killing her child is poverty,
.
.
posted on 31-07-2008
Copyright ©®2008, Palas Kumar Ray. All rights reserved.
poem by Palas kumar Ray
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Sonnet: The Magic of Poverty
A birth in poverty is luck supreme!
A death in poverty, a great blessing;
A life of poverty is rare a dream;
Achievements great, stark poverty can bring.
’Tis poverty that goads nations do feats;
’Tis poverty that stimulates scientists;
In everything, poverty, wealth just beats;
The greatest men were in poverty’s lists.
And poverty lessens our worries much;
Account to God will be much easier;
Poverty gives the saint a divine touch;
In poverty, poets can fly higher!
Poverty helps to shun worldly pleasures;
A soul in poverty, Heaven allures.
9-14-2002
poem by John Celes
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Wealth and poverty
Wealth is father of luxury.
Poverty is mother of meanness.
Both are parents of discontents.
They cannot alter the status.
06.10.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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You Are The Mother Beneath Our Wings Dedicated to my mother who thought she had nothing to give-but gave the wisest things!
You are the mother beneath our wings, born into poverty brought us the
wealth of many kings, When you art young and don't have anything, you rely on
your Mother to give you everything, For a poor mother who had nothing you gave the
wisest things, You are the Mother beneath our wings.
Being poor was a rich experience for us and heartbreaking for you
You planted many seeds and nourished your ten kids needs
You gave us the wealth of may kings-coming from poverty taught us many things
The way you loved your life, being the kissin' bandit's wife
We were dirt poor, but it wasn't all bad
If material wealth as all we had-We wouldn't appreciate life and be thankful for what
we have. What you gave was unique, prized above material things
To each child special gifts you did bring
We were never too poor to give something-when you think you can't give nothing
You van give the wisest things-The love you gave will be treasured more than anything
When the trumpet blows and you rise up to meet your king
REMEMBER the lilies blooming in spring and that you gave your best in EVERYTHING!
poem by Miriam McKee
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We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty.
quote by Mother Teresa
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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OCEAN OF GAIETY Vavroovahana Patra
Mother Mahalaxmee appears with wealth;
In poor people’s mind plays waves of mirth.
Wealth comes with hard labour;
It provides peace, pleasure, contentment to all creatures;
Earth smiles with the appearance of Mother;
She is the operator of all creatures.
Plants smile with the desire of Mother;
People provided with food, garment, shelter live with pleasure.
Mother eradicates India’s poverty;
All citizens enchant with delight.
Mother shows devotees the right way;
In devotees’ mind plays waves of gay.
Mother smiles on the paddy plants;
Fulfils all people’s wants.
Appears on the green creepers;
She is the Deity of all creatures.
Mother blesses on the cosy rosy flowers;
Loves lotus flowers.
Loves flowers and fruits;
Her bliss is a brook of Delight.
Mother loves sanctity;
Loves purity.
Loves non-violence, love, fraternity;
She is an Ocean of Gaiety.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Sympathies dry
Poverty is not mother of grief.
The mother is disparity.
Prosperity cannot drive out grief.
Prosperity eliminates poverty.
With poverty elopes sympathy.
Suicides grow not from poverty
But from want of sympathy.
10.09.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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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The Shadow Inside My Shadow
poverty is not my cousin,
is not my lover,
is not my preacher,
poverty is not my brother.
poverty is not my prayer,
or the song that i sing
is not my answer
poverty is not my dream.
poverty is not my teacher,
not the hand that i hold.
poverty is not my anger,
not my spirit, not my soul.
ah! but this poverty is real
it races thru my mind
crashes into my heart,
& leaves me deaf and blind.
poverty is my companion.
the aching cold inside my hollow.
the blow behind my eyes,
poverty is the shadow
inside my shadow.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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But tears only for my Grandma
I was born the day and date I cannot remember like many;
I was leisurely growing watching my little sisters
scratching heads, wiping tears of poverty!
Coconut oil was scarce; brother’s knickers were sparse
My mother too bore silently the smoke in her eyes twice daily,
In front of the husk stove daily;
with her mother (our lovely grandma) together,
Worship their family Doctor Baba Goush Baba
For the cure of my mother’s Leucoderma;
well over 3 yrs; walking well over 3 km
Day after Day;
Faith finally paid; curse finally parted
A walk together with mother and mother with affection
Sharing poverty and poverty in succession
Crying sobriety in progression;
Hapless future with six kids on hand;
Her mom on back; her hubby in barrack
Finally
A life is lead
Up to this Summit of opulence
With my Mom and Dad happily
But Tears
only for my Grand Maa!
© Krishna Baalu2010
poem by krishna Baalu
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Poverty In The 21st Century
It’s the 21st century
The media displays it day and night,
Poverty.
Poverty across the globe lies
Poverty cries out from the belly of little boys
Little girls, parents too
Desperately searching for food,
Shelter, clothing, for love,
Companion, for attention
Those with plenty, refuse
To amend, a world haunted by
Poverty.
Is poverty affecting the rich?
Are their poverty the same
As the poor in financial constrains?
For they, too, poverty of love
I see poverty in the learned
I see poverty in those whose
Selfish acts are destroying society.
I see poverty in all level of humanity
The world is still an imperfect place
Yet life is still beautiful, the wind
Blows, we see it not, give thanks
For what you possess, now go,
Help if you can along the way,
Help to eradicate poverty
In your surrounding, widen
Your boundary across your
Country, to nations of the world.
Help to fight poverty, now!
poem by Winston Harding
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Poverty's Child
Poverty's child,
An orphan on the street,
He runs for life,
He fights for food,
He has no home,
He has no shoes,
no mother, no father,
no nothing.
He dies young...
Poverty's child,
An orphan on the street.
poem by Joseph Fuller
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Not Everyone Can Be Famous
Not everyone can be famous though many yearn for fame
In a World where millions do die without a penny to their name
And that any hope of an egalatarian Human World cannot exist cannot be denied
Whilst the gap between the haves and the have nots is growing ever wide
Their dreams of great wealth and fame millions do pursue
But for many of course such dreams never come true
And many who have great dreams die in poverty
For dreams are just dreams that's how it seems to be
Around the World today in every village, city and town
People daydream of great things of wealth and renown
And though to live in poverty only the saintlike would choose
For one for to win many destined to lose
To achieve in a big way seems a human need
And though many strive for success only few do succeed.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Golden Bird, Painted Black
From beginning I heard
India was a golden bird,
Mughals, Britishers arrived
Looted wealth and destroyed
As she had wealth natural
Precious stones and pearl
Real gold, range of mineral
And knowledge of spiritual.
Hard work of noble citizens
Has mounted wealth again
But many citizens still feel pity
They are to live below poverty.
The amount involved in scams
Amount brought to Swiss bank,
Can run India totally tax free,
Not less the decades of three.
As said hundred trillion rupees
Is deposited in banks of Swiss,
Mere interest at Indian bank rate,
Can change poor people’s fate.
People below poverty can
Easily get per capita income.
India was a bird of gold,
India is still a bird of gold
But in black, it is painted
Her worthyness is dented.
If this black is removed,
Will again shine like gold.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Mother In Law
(a. toussaint)
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
The worst person I know
Mother in law, mother in law
She worries me so
Mother in law, mother in law
If she leaves us alone
We could have a happy home
Sent from down below
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
Satan should be her name
Mother in law, mother in law
To me theyre about the same
Mother in law, mother in law
Everytime I open my mouth
Steps in trying to put me out
How could you stood so low
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
Come home with my pay
Mother in law, mother in law
She asks me what I made
Mother in law, mother in law
She thinks her advice is a contribution
If she would leave that would be the solution
Dont come back no more
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law....
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Amongst Wealth And Fame
Amongst wealth and fame there is great poverty
With such things should not happen here most would agree
A poor homeless bloke with only a mattress for a bed
On the embankment under a railway underpass for six months lay dead.
Under the railway underpass he died where he lay
For months undiscoverd that seems sad to say
A man in his forties one without a friend
He lived a sad life and his was a sad end.
In Melbourne Victoria this must be a lie
In such a wealthy City people of neglect never die?
But the facts tell us differently and i must make it clear
That it is not of fiction i am writing of here.
Some of the less kind will tell you we live and die as we choose
That he was one of those blokes destined to lose
And though they are entitled for to air their views
They seem to make light of what is quite sad news.
Six months he was dead when his remains were found
Amongst wealth and fame poverty does abound
It is not for one like him that you should pray
For if there is a heaven he is there today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Poem Of Our Souls
Our seeking went beyond
sheding of tears,
out of enough we lost
jugdment, pain of the past
has thoroughly touch
me in an unpeaceful
place...
Penury and poverty has
turn me into mischief,
richies yet penury disagree
my wealth
our jubilation don't last
long yet tribulation
cometh
in notime,
poverty can jubilate without
fear of jugdment.
Penury.....
Penury has eatup
our plenty, poverty
now call us poor
poverty creeps into our
life and eat, drink
what we had left
in our store yet
he still pronounce us
penury.
Our souls walks alone
kings seeks shelter in
th darkcold wintet
calling on motherearth
to favour our pocket
puting penny into
penury still nothing can
change by chance
poem of our
souls'.
poem by Senator alufalism
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The Sobs Of The Starving Children
We know about them from the radio and television and the hungry getting hungrier by the day
But we do not hear the sobs of the starving children from where we live they seem so far away
On the six o clock news at times we do see footage of hungry
children in a Land where poverty and disease is rife
And we feel a twinge of sadness that we cannot help them since we have got our own struggles in life.
Still the sobs of the hungry children are growing louder and
not all of them live in a far Country
And not all of them in the slums of the big city there's such a thing as hidden poverty
The single mother raises her brood on welfare and she has to struggle for to make ends meet
And they survive on bread and tea and milk and cornflakes since she cannot afford to buy them meat.
Banks and corporations make billions in yearly profits and we read and hear of their financial gain
But they don't help to feed the starving children and the growing scourge of poverty remain
A mile from where the billionaire lives there's poverty and hunger yet of their plight he does not wish to know
Still for him to grow wealthier others must grow poorer and
life goes on as it did years ago.
To find want you don't have that far to travel for poverty is everywhere and near
And though the starving children keep on sobbing louder their cries for food we do not seem to hear
And sad to say that those who talk and dream of an egalitarian society will never live to see their dreams come true
And in a World where there is want and hunger the majority of the World's wealth still with the wealthy few.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Inang Bayan (english 'Mother Country')
Oh, mother country
it's no longer
a short time
since you become
a free nation.
Oh, mother country
truly, you are free
but why
did you let yourself
be imprisoned
by poverty?
Was it your choice?
Oh, mother country
when will you be able
to take good care
of your abandoned children
who wish
for three times a day meal,
for shelter,
and for affordable medication
and education.
Oh, mother country,
Oh, mother country.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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