Flooding
Unwelcome Ascending water, ,
Stopped running, but filling up,
Not only miles of land,
But also force our eyes to shed.
Acres of soon to be harvested crops,
Annihilated within a day,
A violent bath in the massive Jacuzzi,
A colorless massacre that is easy.
Have no floats, have no dry clothes,
Have no blankets, have no peace,
Is the current under and above, suffice,
to cook the food without a device?
Loans to pay, responsibilities to fulfill,
Young children to wean and infants to feed,
Elders and disabled to care and make them calm,
Worries to worry and flood from the eyes.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Hungry Children
Everyday children around the world are starving,
Children has to go without food,
When their parents don't have the money to feed them,
All over the world, there are times,
When all children have went to bed without anything to eat.
Children die every single day,
Because they don't have,
Enough money to feed themselves.
Food should be free to low-income families,
So that the people who can't afford to feed their children can feed them,
Without having to worry that their children or themselves will die,
If food is free to these people,
We will have children for our next gernation.
poem by Bethany Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Midst Of War
in the midst of war with bodies lying on the ground
walks a band of children-their families can't be found
searching through the rubble of homes that used to be
looking for food and clothes just to survive
because of their elders who choose to live a lie.
as i look through their eyes-all i can see
is death and destruction staring at me.
these children are not to blame for what is all around
but! if its not stopped they'll be laying on the ground.
they search thru this destruction in hopes that
they'll find-others to join them.
as they walk down the streets-the elders stop their fighting
to let them pass.
but this is just temporary- they know it will not last.
other children see them marching down the streets
they dropp what they are doing to join this band
knowing in their hearts it's time to take a stand.
this band is getting larger and the children start to shout..
what is this war? whats it all about?
can't you see the lives that have been taken?
because of this war the ground is still shaking.
the elders stop their fighting as the children all sit down.
they scream'we are not moving until this fight is through.
if this is what you want we will die with you.
you think only of yourselves and not what we're going through.
and when we die-what are you going to do.
there will be no one to carry on your name
there will be no heritage to be found
it will be burned to the ground.
look at our faces and you know what you will see
death and destruction surrounding me.
so we ask you from our hearts-it's time to change.
it is not something which is hard to do
it's all up to every one of you.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Cry for Food and They Give Us Bullets
Food! Food! Food!
It is all that we need
It is all that we need
to calm down our spirits!
It is food that fills
that fills the empty pangs
of our stomachs,
pangs that make us yawn
but cannot sleep
that make us gulp
but cannot vomit,
that make our saliva
taste sour and acidic!
We cry for food
like the helpless little children
with the art to attract attention
by our street demonstrations.
Yes, we cry for food like little children
to calm down our spirits,
that the cry cannot at all be neglected
for it is food,
it is food that soothes our spirits.
But you give us bullets
on the streets where we stage
our cry for food
You give us bullets
instead of food.
But even bullets cannot silence
our cry for food
for as long as we`re hungry
we shall be like little children
that will ever cry for food.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Staring Head
Her eyes are staring into your head,
See it this time, your work of beholding is gone!
I am discouraged, by the infants and children of the world,
For what we meet on this day is an abusing venom.
My letter is written of an ugly ritual,
The time of itself is short but long, old and strange is the ritual.
May eyes of the sort bedazzle me more than my children,
They are mere infants, not only mere mortals,
But I have averted my eyes before time is up,
And the headache and pangs have disappeared resentfully.
My eyes are so normal, but my children are not.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Just Across The Rio Grande
(don cook, chick rains)
The lights of laredo dance on the water
And shine in a young mans eyes.
Who stand on the border and dreams of paradise.
Hes heard crazy stories of how people live over in the promised land.
He heard they eat three meals a day, just across the rio grande.
Hes got a wife named maria, and a baby
Named rose, and another one to feed on the way.
Two willing hands, that couldnt find work today.
He stares at the river and curses the future,
That he cant understand.
He knows the child would have a chance, just
Across the rio grande.
Its only a river,
Thats not so deep or wide.
A boy can throw a stone across and
Reach the other side. its just some
Muddy water, cutting through the land.
But a man can make a dream come true
Just across the rio grande.
The lights of laredo dance on the water and
Shine in a young mans eyes. who stand on the
Border and dreams of paradise.
Hes heard crazy stories of how good life is
Over in the promised land, and
Sometimes it seems like God must live just
Across the rio grande.
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Children Of Gaza
Ooo! ! ! you young infants of the stolen land
Be strong, you are the seeds of the sand
Rain of missiles showered you every day
the world watch as if it is a comic play
your playground has become a missile garden
And you had become a weed that need to be up rooten
every day of yours, some of you are called by him above
But with tears of sorrow you buried them with love
Ooo! ! ! you children of gaza
Be strong, God will answer your prayer
You have never had a memory of sweet infancies
your childhood is constantly rubbed by plague of brutalities
Your eyes are running water no more
they pumped blood from sorrows core
Ooo! ! ! children of this ruined kingdom
let no one break your spirit, they will call freedom
Ooo! ! ! you children of palestine
Be strong, your home will be a glowing vine
our hand are tied to our eyes
our ears are deaf only few of us heard your cries
But I say to you hold on
It wouldn't be long before you see the sun
It wouldn't be long before we hear your solitary strain
It wouldn't be for ever this pointless emblem of pain
Be strong children of gaza
Freedom will wipe your fear
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Child's Dream (on Gujrat Riot)
This is a dramatically poem on the Gujrat riot...>
Once while sleeping I saw a dream,
In a beautiful ground was playing,
That was lying near a lovely stream,
A pretty smile was the sun displaying,
Grass was tickling when we'd run,
And dew disappeared as shone the sun.
In the game, so fast I ran,
And found myself far away,
Saw back but no friend I sought,
But my eyes met an old mourning man,
May be, he forgot his own way,
I reached him curiously in this thought.
When he turned his lovely face,
I recognized, Ah! Our National Father,
Whose tender heart was full of grace,
'Why thy eyes wet? O my father!
Practising on thy doctrines, now India is free,
But, ye weeping, O ye must be glee.'
Wiping his tears he broke his ice,
'Why to be happy and on what to be gay? '
He spoke in his woeful voice,
They again and again me slay,
My home affected by violent flood,
And my yard is full of human blood.'
'I'm unable to imagine, O what we say?
How thou be slain again and again,
While from thy home thou far away,
And on thy attire, how is this stain?
I've seen thee cheerful in my books,
But, why sorrowful thy face looks?
'Open thy mind and understand me, O child!
Where peace resides the place I attain,
And thou know well that I've been mild,
Thy white clothing leaders made on me stain,
Ah! Gujrat, My Gujrat is full of human blood,
Wild Modi has brought a violent flood.'
In his tearful eyes I saw horrible sights,
Men be killed, burnt, cleft and badly drawn,
Surrounding one be ripped if one who fights,
Tearing womb, infants are wildly drawn,
Infants're cleft before their mothers' eyes,
With a painful cry I closed my eyes.
poem by Mohammad Muzzammil
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bath Bliss
Having a bath is so relaxing,
When a day at the office has been so taxing,
We need to ease away our tensions,
Otherwise we may never collect our pensions,
To keep forever on the go,
Rushing to and rushing fro,
Is really just not good for us,
We really must learn to adjust.
Instead of working oneself into a lather,
What are the things that you would rather
Do, that is, if you had the choice,
Be able to get out of that office, and just rejoice?
Look at all the things to do at your leasure,
Lots of things to give you pleasure,
And a hot bath is number one on the list,
One that I don't think you can resist,
It will soothe your worries, soothe your dismay,
Soothe all your aches and pains away,
For the water will do just what it should,
And you know you'll be feeling really good,
You'll no longer need to feel depressed,
You'll be feeling bright eyed and full of zest.
So run the bath, and jump right in,
Fill that bath right up to your chin,
Close your eyes and deeply breathe,
Calm yourself, no need to seethe.
Tip in the bath foam and whisk up the bubbles,
Slowly shake away all those troubles.
So you see, having a bath is so relaxing,
When a day at the office has been so taxing.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Domestic Shades16
For angst theirs against
Infants and babies shut in classes
Montessori 'holidays' means a lot
That grand-mas are the happiest
Running behind grand children
Bleating to grand-son 'yes sir, yes sir'
Towed by grand-daughter like 'little lamb'
Boasting to daughters
Their baby care olden days..
Kept running behind me
My grand-daughter
My daughter behind her
A cypher-contest finally
Caught defeated for bath
But bath-towel crying elsewhere
Escaped to rescue, my daughter
Little wee locked in momentarily
Battled on a chaos further red mouthed
Poking 'Grandeur''s tongue
Prostrating to my back 'toothsome'...
And...
Now, I am not for Montessori Holidays
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Independent No Longer
Chaos and Madness. Tools of Man Kind to wield against each other like the sword and bow. Blood shed, a favored event in the devastated minds of soldiers and killers. The innocent cold blood of men and women, children and elders, young and old, is cast upon the beloved mother Earth, and it is here where Rak'Shi, herb of demons, thrives in the tinted crimson stained lands of human battlegrounds. Only we can prevent the world, our very race, from engaging itself to insanity. Least we make the ultimate regret and perish in a massive failure for peace.
Independence ends. We must trust and believe in one another.
Or else, we all take the plunge into Hell, in our growing Holocaust of madness.
poem by Jesse Milligan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Are They Children Of A Lesser GOD?
the children of this country should be happy as can be
for they do not have to live in such poverty.
most at least have clothes on their backs
a bed in which to sleep, and food
even if it's only once a day.
and they're taught how to pray.
we are much better off than other countries
around the world.
but try to tell that to the hungry boy or girl.
we are a nation from all walks of life
and have fought so that freedom can ring
and to our national anthem sing.
our children dream of things that they could be
because in this land, dreams can come true.
so let us now see what we can do
to help our brothers' me and you'.
the other child dreams of a warm bed
and a roof over their head.
a bath to wash off the dirt of the day away
a family member with whom they could stay.
clean clothes, clean socks, something which
they have not got.
food set on a table, and someone to help
them if their not able.
to be able to go to school, and learn the golden rule.
to be able to play in the streets
instead of digging in cans for something to eat.
to be able to see a doctor when they're not well
instead of being 'sent to hell'.
to be able to see love in an adults face
and not have to hide in fear and disgrace.
because they were abused by someone who did
not care, whether they lived or died.
and always told the same old lies.
are they children of a lessr GOD?
no! ! for GOD gave us all those rights
and we as adults have to stand up and fight.
stop the abuse in third world nations
let them see GODS creations.
stop the wars, stop the abuse
put the drugs we've got, to good use.
help the elderly, the young, the lame
for we are all the same.
we must practise what we preach it is
the only way that we could reach
all the children who were given to us from above
if they're shown kindness and love.
we won't be here to help them grow
so let's help them today
that much i know.
they are our future, can't you see
for tomorrow we'll be history.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My heart beat
01/09/2010
My heart beat
My heart beat
My heart beats with worry and sorrow
Seeing mankind climbing the ladder of hate
Seeing mankind fading away the love for humanity
My heart bleeds
My eyes cry sadness as blood brothers and sisters
hate on each other
The love I have for my sisters is deep
The care I feel for my brother is deep
None can separate my siblings and I
For we forever one
My heart beats play songs of sorrow and pain
My heart bleeds with sorrow and pain when I see
Homeless yuts begging on the streets
Where are you mother of earth set to nature and feed this young one
GOD why plant a seed on hateful woman
All eyes are on you woman of prostitution
All eyes are you woman of abortion
Defiling the survival of humanity by allowing vanity to control you
Who is to look after the nation and keep it clean when you are
Soulfully unclean
Move away from the darkness mankind
Can't you see the women are dying
Can't you the children are still crying
Hunger pains the stomach
Hunger supresses the brain to lowest level of thinking
I feel the pain in the core of my chest
I feel my heart beat, the drums in my brain
Makes my ears buzz when I hear the cry of the children on the streets
My feet get cold and my toes cramp as they feel the cold on the side walks of Jozi
My heart beats with sorrow and worry
Seeing mankind turning a blind eye on Poverty
My heart beats sing a sad song, a sad song
That tells me to fight poverty
Lets fight poverty people
Lets give to the needy
Take care of our elders
Feed our children
Love the nation
because my heart beats sing a sad song, a sad song.
My heart beat
By: Empress Ela Spirit
EES! ! ! ! !
poem by Zanele Mavuso
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
5 a.m. Port of Pulawan
the port of pulawan
is insomniac,
it is the meaning of its name,
it does not sleep,
people here, even the children have
deep sunken eyes
like an old deep
well,
when you call a name,
it echoes deep down there and it comes back
to you after
a while, telling you
'there is no water here! '
when you arrive here,
you call a name, and it is the same answer,
like what their eyes
are saying,
in fact, shouting,
you hear it well,
a friend of yours with long hair
disembarked immediately
the sound of arrival faded with the smoke of the
ship,
he is met by your student who flunked the bar this year,
the first time that you notice
that this guy is limping,
she carried a bag full of clothes,
dirty ones from the hospital
her mother has cancer of the lymph nodes
and at terminal stage
she has her only daughter
who drops her samsung tablet on the floor of the boat
nothing is broken,
they invite you for a ride in their old
black car,
you shake your head, you want to wait
somebody is coming,
the one you doubt you love says that she is coming to fetch you.
you want to go back to your way.
The sun shines. The sea is very calm.
The children are now wearing their deep sunken eyes.
Deep dry wells,
running out of water.
Pretty much like
you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Age doesn't matter
Yes it causes me worry
I have unclear mind and feel very sorry
One should stay firm and carry
To fulfill all dreams and marry
As teenager I had fallen in love
It was unusual for me to move
People say” age doesn’t matter”
I have thought of deciding it later
I wanted young and handsome
Who can fulfill my dream?
It has caused me many sleepless nights
I have still a reason to smile and cause for delight
I wanted some one to nurture
Enough of wisdom and mature
Who can grant me bright future?
Take me right with and fully secure
Do I bear any hidden guilt?
Has it got any syndrome in built?
Even if it has, I may wither the storm
The relation may mushroom and remain warm
Do you imagine the state of river when in spate?
Can any one think of it and clearly state?
Has she not the potential to flood and dash?
Is there any reason with her to go for mad rush?
What is state when flood water is receded?
What is condition when demand is acceded?
The calm water may appeal more and more
As I go near to him and simply adore
Others may not accept it but I do
I have though it wise and very true
I shall stay firm and go for it
Wait for glorious moment and gladly meet
It is not mere coincidence or simple chance
One can’t go for it and have a glance
The waves do emanate from deep inside
The conception and realization has remained wide
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Father Is Always In Debt
My father has to pay all the bills,
This is done gladly by his own will.
Bills are for the house mortgage,
To have a decent shelter for our sake.
Electricity, gas, water bills are enormous indeed,
Which are really basic human need.
Another really huge is a burden of our school fees,
Education nowaday is expensive, but not for free.
My report card with 'A' makes him happy with a glee,
So my father pays them without any hesitation,
Looking forward to the day of our graduation.
For us to climb higher in social rank,
To this expectation his heart never sank.
Food and clothings are no more cheap,
Sometimes upon him, a debt will be heaped,
Causing very difficult to make both ends meet.
He prays for us to be healthy,
In case of illness, extra money must be spent plenty.
He patiently endures the pinches of poverty,
Only our hard work in education would bring him out ot this tragedy.
Though the saying is 'Money cannot make everything.'
He knows it can make a lot of things.
O, Dad, don't worry, when I start to work,
Your burden is going to be stopped.
For the loans, I am going to repay,
So that you will have a happy and easy day.
Together
Loving families
charitable communities
doting mothers devoted fathers
always supportive friends
children born with mind's
of wise old men
sisterhood between women
brother hood between man
together as one family creating
a better land
positive light providing
the world its power
cash to cure disease
providing all with
fresh food
clean drinking water
warm blankets clean clothes
protective shelter for those
in need
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Goat
Lots of goat for dinner
Is all had on a skewer,
My kingdom has survived,
The lids of your eyes
Are lifted and they see
The meat of the kings
In consumption.
Force the goat to be eaten
By converting the king
To your crevice.
Food has might,
Food is the whim of our land.
We ghosts are relaxed tonight,
From the worry of the horror,
Frightened again by the double,
Load the goat into the pot and eat.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lotsertime
Aw, chuck the mail bags over there,
It's great to have 'em brought by air;
But, now they're here, just sling 'em round,
Out anywhere, upon the ground.
I'll pick 'em up an' make full speed
Soon as me 'orse 'as 'as a feed.
Delays don't count in this fair clime;
This is the land o' Lotsertime.
I 'ear 'ow Europe's gone fair mad
On speed. But I'm like my ole dad.
The things a man don't do today
He does termorrer, anyway.
So wot's the odds! This speed's all tripe.
Wait on until I light me pipe.
A spell for yarnin' ain't no crime;
This is the land o' Lotsertime.
The Melbourne cockies, they don't care.
There's always 'eaps o' time to spare.
They ain't air-minded like yous blokes
From Europe, or them Yankee folks.
Why should we be, when all is said?
When coves dies they're a long time dead.
Why worry while the crops is prime?
This is the land o' Lotsertime.
So, sling the mail bags over 'ere.
I'll fill me pipe again an' clear.
I hold one record, 't any rate;
I always gets there, soon or late.
The mail gets thro', dry stage or wet;
An' fire or flood ain't beat me yet.
Our troubles 'ow speed records climb
In this 'ere land o' Lotsertime.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Flood
The water flows to any place,
Flooding the land en way;
Submerging roads, bridges and fields,
Filling the wells and lakes;
It spares no one and humans too,
Neither the beasts nor trees;
Carrying the garbage and rubbish
And the entire sewage of state;
Whole villages have been cut off;
Many have been marooned;
Shelterless and starving in the cold;
Some clutch on to pieces of wood;
And stay alive for some more time,
Afraid to lose their hold;
There’s no water to even drink;
The people are all stark-naked;
And all they see is sea-water,
No food is in sight for many miles;
Oh, what havoc, the storm has wrought
On a state so poor!
So many fishermen are lost;
And many must have died;
Perched atop trees dangerously,
Birds too have not been spared;
They have lost their nests in trees;
And eggs and young ones as well;
The rain is pouring incessantly;
None can escape its brunt;
The state is cut into ‘islets’,
With corpses, carcasses afloat;
The air is filled by malodor;
The stench unfit to breathe;
Many human lives have lost in flood,
The place is diseases-prone;
Should nature be so unkind
To human beings on earth?
Help seems to come at a snail’s speed;
Thousands were swept alive;
No one knows the numbers lost;
A pall of gloom covers;
Will the flood-waters ever recede?
Will the sun dry up the land?
Lakhs of houses have been washed off;
God help the poor victims!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-8-1999
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Worries
Everyday we worry
whenever something goes wrong.
Some worry more than others
and their problems seem to grow.
We worry about our kids,
what troubles they get into.
We worry about money,
and how we will pay the bills.
We worry about food
will we have enough
to keep our bellies fed
and give us our daily bread.
We worry about everything
that goes on around us,
our family, our friends, our neighbours
and even strangers
whose lives we do not know.
Sometimes our worries
can even make us ill.
We can never stop worrying.
It is just part of our frame of mind.
However, we should stop worrying
about what is going to happen,
as we cannot change it
or alter its course.
2 July 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!