Related quotes: I am in my Honda...

Arbitrary

I am in my Honda Civic car at Haji Ali:
Boy of thirteen knocks on window screen,
But I turn away from this beggar, sure,
Not knowing how to go about it always.

In the morning however at Worli
I had asked driver to slow down
While I took out a ten rupee note
And gave it to that young beggar.

There is no difference between the two,
Both are begging by tapping on car window;
One makes my hand to open a wallet
And the other make my eyes move away.

poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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Related quotes

The most humiliating moment

The most humiliating moment in my life
Was when I was seven
To my aunt's house
Which had no mouse
I and my father were going
With me cooing
In a traffic block we got ourselves in
I put the cover of the nuts in the nearby dust-bin
A beggar banged on the car's window
And my father opened it
He asked some money
And myfather replied
'I have none'
The beggar looked
sorrowfully at my father
And tossing In a coin
through the window
Went on his way
While my father sat
with his mouth open!

poem by Athul KrishnaA
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No Difference

i stared out the window
at the bare frozen limbs
of my favorite old tree...
i closed my eyes...
saw leaves bud forth
and turn green...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i stared at the young girl
reading at a corner table
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old grandmother
washing dishes with her grandbabies
playing in the floor at her feet...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw the young man
carrying his son on his shoulders
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old man standing
by his son's casket
draped by a flag...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw an old man
standing on the corner begging
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy
playing ball in the street
laughing and dodging cars
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a crack head shivering
by an electric heater in a bare apartment
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young a/g student
helping some kid with his math
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a desperate girl
walking the streets
looking for a john
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young girl's room
stuffed animals on the bed
pictures of her and her daddy on the wall
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a young man
wild-eyed with fear
in a prison cell
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy gone hunting
with his grandpa on thanksgiving morn
with his dog by his side
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i pulled back the veil of time...
knowing, there is no difference!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Beggar is close to God

Begging for something is a cut
That is made at the root of your ego.
Begging for food is the deepest cut.
A monk goes begging for food,
Where he feels pride, not humiliation.
A beggar knocks the door for food,
Cursing his fate, tasting the humiliation.
Ego is active in monk, dead in beggar.
Who will get quick salvation?
04.11.2001, Pakd

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Speeeeeech!

does it make difference you speak in front of many people or alone
does it make difference you speech in historic place or in your toilet
does it make difference you are charismatic leader or unknown beggar from streetside

it makes difference you speak to clash conflict or for better world
it makes difference you speech bonded by past or to move forward
it makes difference you depend by fact or just soap service

does it make difference you read from text or speak fluently
does it make difference you speech in busy market or deserted mountain
does it make difference you write words yourself or scrap it from books and paper

it makes difference everybody exitedly listens or sleeps peacefully on their seats
it makes difference you have freedom to speak or prisoned by intimidation
it makes difference it gives effect or just a long boring speech

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Knowing you

Exhausted and tired, I met you,
All the right reasons I saw,
Asked for a hand you gave me both,
Called for care I received love,
Knowing you knowing love

Shivering without any hope,
I asked for warmth i got heat,
In your tender arms i rested,
Darling give me more
Knowing you is knowing love

You took me by the hand,
Whispered in my ear,
You called me to your side,
You loved so dearly,
Take my hand you will see,
Love is becoming us,
Knowing you is knowing love

Tell me you love me,
With words im healed,
With the gentle touch im in ecstacy,
Knowing you was a fortune,
Like a beggar finding gold,
Knowing you was knowing love

poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Lie would win over truth

He was
Shabbily dressed,
Gloom
On his unshaven face
Pain in the eyes
He entered my chamber
Politely asked for a
Ten-rupee note
To buy medicine for his
Ailing wife
Without thinking much
I gave the note to him
After few days
He came back again
With the same story
Another note
Was given to him
By his third visit
I came to know
He was an imposter
Concocting false stories
To collect money
I yelled at him
Asked him to go away
Refused to give
Any money
He smiled and said
Now you know the truth
However,
I need the money
You have to give it to me
Other wise
I shall go on the road
Shout on the top of
My voice
You call yourself rich
But you are the
Biggest miser
On the earth
Who does not have?
Even a Ten-rupee note
To help an ailing lady
I am a popper
Nobody knows me
However, you shall
Lose your prestige
In my heart, I cursed him
My prestige was on stake
Lie would win over truth
In sheer disgust I gave
A hundred rupee note to him
Requested him to please
Spare me
Do not bother me again
11-03-2012
345-78-03-12

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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My Sparkling Eyes!

I can't see anything
without spectacles.
Luring eyes get vexed
not being responded by my eyes.
The child-carrying anaemic mother
or the shivering octogenarian
travelling in buses as standees,
eyeing me up to receive my seat,
are not looked at all by my eyes.
Specks of dust cover my glasses
when chain-snatchers or those
who scare public peace bustle around.
As my eyes fail to greet
Known people on the road
They think of me as being proud.

But a fifty rupee note on the walk way
before the busy market
made a clear image in my shifting eyes.
I looked around and picked it up.
I liked to hand it over to a shopkeeper
for to be return to that loser later.
But the business people are sharks
giving bogus bills in bits of papers,
evading tax and exchanging fake notes.
And so I waited there for ten minutes,
with my eyes feigning search for the philanthropist.
Alas! Fifty rupee has gone down to the value of fifty paise.
Nobody turned up to claim it.

I am not brought up in a way to give it to charity,
or to a beggar and to donate it to the temple.
Is it a thousand rupee note
to pass it on to the police?
So I pushed it into my pocket
looking around if anybody watching.
Very good eyes I have
which I won't donate even after my death.
------------

poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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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
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Night's still awake with flexible souls

At the daybreak a drunkard whispers to a beggar's ear
Who's fast asleep on the concrete bed!
'Sorry for the inconvenience brother!
Short of few coins and I want to go back home
As I lost my way last night and slept in a strange place.'
The kind beggar gave him a brand new dollar note
with a big yawn and he's surprised.
He jumped to the first bus and gone.
Now the beggar remembers the friend
Once offered him a drink and he's worried
That he should have given him more.

* A Diamond is a chunk of coal that made good under pressure.
-Anonymous

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. John (Chapter 9)

Jesus saw a man, blind since birth;
His disciples asked Him, ‘Rabbi,
By whose sins was the man born blind-
His own sins or that of parents’? ’

So, Jesus answered them, ‘Neither.
It is so that the works of God
Be manifested through the man.
The day is meant for all to work;
The night is for slumber and rest.’
‘While in this world, I am the light.’

Then Jesus spat on ground near-by
And mixed the clay with saliva;
He smeared the clay over man’s eyes
And said, ’ Go wash in Siloam Pool! ’
The man did so and got vision.

The beggar was able to see!
The neighbors saw and then remarked,
‘Isn’t this the beggar who was blind? ’

The beggar replied, ‘Yes, I am! ’
They asked, ‘How were your eyes opened? ’

The man described the whole story.
They asked him, ‘Where is Jesus now?
The beggar said, ‘I do not know.’

They brought the man to Pharisees;
Now Jesus did the miracle,
On Sabbath day and all knew that.

The Pharisees queried the man;
They said, ‘This man is not from God!
He does not keep the Sabbath-day.
How can a sinful man do signs?
They asked the beggar’s opinion;
He told them, ‘He is a prophet! ’

The Jews summoned his parents then
And enquired about their son;
His parents said, ‘He was born blind.’
But they didn’t know how he saw then.
They neither knew the healer’s name;
They told them to ask the beggar.

His parents were afraid of Jews;
If anyone believed Jesus,
And acknowledged Him, Messiah,
They were expelled from synagogue.

They called the beggar once again,
And asked him to give praise to God,
For, Jesus was a sinner great!

The man replied, ‘I do not know
If Jesus is a sinner great;
One thing was true that I was blind
And Jesus helped to make me see, ’

They asked him for more details then;
The beggar lost his cool and said,
‘Do you wish to be disciples? ’

They ridiculed the beggar-man
And said, ‘We are Moses’ disciples!
We don’t know where Jesus is from? ’

The man answered them quite bravely,
‘Isn’t it amazing that although,
You do not know who Jesus is,
Yet, He had made me to see then? ’

‘God does not listen to sinners;
If one’s devout, God listens then.
So far no one had given sight
To man who was blind, since his birth.’
‘If Jesus did not come from God,
He wouldn’t do miracles like this.’

They told the man, ‘You’re born in sin;
So, do not try to preach to us.
They drove the beggar-man away!

Then Jesus heard of incident;
He found the beggar-man and asked,
‘Do you believe in Son of Man? ’

He queried, ‘Who is he, tell me
So that, I may believe in Him.’

Then Jesus said, ‘You have seen Him;
The one speaking to you is He! ’

The man believed and worshipped Him.
Then Jesus said, ‘I came in here,
Into this world for judgment just,
And make ones who couldn’t see, to see,
And those who see become so blind.’

Some Pharisees who heard him said,
‘Surely we’re blind, are we not then? ’

Jesus told them, ‘If you were blind,
You wouldn’t have sins, but as you see,
Your sin remains and you are blind! ’

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Unheeded Pageant

Ah, who was it coloured that little frock, my child, and covered
your sweet limbs with that little red tunic?
You have come out in the morning to play in the courtyard,
tottering and tumbling as you run.
But who was it coloured that little frock, my child?
What is it makes you laugh, my little life-bud?
Mother smiles at you standing on the threshold.
She claps her hands and her bracelets jingle, and you dance
with your bamboo stick in your hand like a tiny little shepherd.
But what is it makes you laugh, my little life-bud?
O beggar, what do you bed for, clinging to your mother's neck
with both your hands?
O greedy heart, shall I pluck the world like a fruit from the
sky to place it on your little rosy palm?
O beggar, what are you begging for?
The wind carries away in glee the tinkling of your anklet
bells.
The sun smiles and watches your toilet.
The sky watches over you when you sleep in your mother's arms,
and the morning comes tiptoe to your bed and kisses your eyes.
The wind carried away in glee the tinkling of your anklet
bells.
The fairy mistress of dreams is coming towards you, flying
through the twilight sky.
The world-mother keeps her seat by you in your mother's heart.
He who plays his music to the stars is standing at your window
with his flute.
And the fairy mistress of dreams is coming towards you, flying
through the twilight sky.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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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
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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
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The Beggar

The thought of great social solitude,
The sight of everyone having an attitude,
Being the neglected in the maltittude,
The pity viewed in verisimilitude,
The life of a beggar
His clothes torn and stomarch empty,
Always dancing to their tune,
Exploited and greatly tortured,
His presence mean nothing to them,
Their presence mean everything to him
He walks door to door for livelihood,
They dont walk to him to give life,
He is seeking life everyday,
Yet life does not seek him even one day
The beggar with rolling tears

Life like that of a beggar,
Love like that of a life,
Begging for the conditional love,
Do I have to beg your love?
Like the beggar beg for life,
My determinism flashes through,
Im breaking the steel bars my love,
Loosening the metalic chains off,
Love is love, not to be begged for,
Love is love, not to use each other,
Love is love, no need for persuation,
For so long it is love,
I will never be begging anymore,
Such love will be deceit,
Such truth will be fake,
And such commitment will be futile
Such a lover will be like a beggar,
Such a beloved will be like a lifegiver,
And such their love will be a shame

poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Forcing The Window To Flow

At the window, rain drives
Drizzles and drizzles glow and go
Pushing and loosing the window to and fro
And some-one asked, who is at the window?
Pushing and pushing the window and dash?

In the dark of the night free and roll
Going for the next fresh candle of the day
At the window a hand goes and more, who is at the window?
She cried and roared the mall
And forced the window and banged and go.

poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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A Poem Of Empathy

my shoes are shiny
black
leather and expensive
i look rich and i speak
like a true gentleman

last night i went of the house
without my
Man Friday
and i wore a mask of the
beggar
and i erased my first name

i am Tonio
the mendicant

and i sit upon a corner
with a can on my hand
begging for
mercy

and you pass by
and you never recognize me
and you spit on me

and then i wrote a poem
about the matter
and you say it is the best poem
i have written
and that you pity the beggar
and that you like to do
something about all the beggars
in this world
make a foundation
fund a cause

and i stop reading the poem
and then
i begin to ask
'who are you? '

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Question

Love, a question
has destroyed you.

I have come back to you
from thorny uncertainty.

I want you straight as
the sword or the road.

But you insist
on keeping a nook
of shadow that I do not want.

My love,
understand me,
I love all of you,
from eyes to feet, to toenails,
inside,
all the brightness, which you kept.

It is I, my love,
who knocks at your door.
It is not the ghost, it is not
the one who once stopped
at your window.
I knock down the door:
I enter your life:
I come to live in your soul:
you cannot cope with me.

You must open door to door,
you must obey me,
you must open your eyes
so that I may search in them,
you must see how I walk
with heavy steps
along all the roads
that, blind, were waiting for me.

Do not fear,
I am yours,
but
I am not the passenger or the beggar,
I am your master,
the one you were waiting for,
and now I enter
your life,
no more to leave it,
love, love, love,
but to stay.

poem by Pablo Neruda
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King Of Dreams

It doesnt matter if Im right or wrong
It really doesnt mean a thing
It doesnt matter if you like my song
As long as you can hear me sing
cause Im the thorn in every little girls rose
You know I cut but never bleed
A shadow in the night, pure delight
I can satisfy your every need
Im a real smooth dancer, Im fantasy man
Master of illusion, magic touch in my hand
All the stages are empty when I steal the scenes
A beggar of love, second hand hero...king of dreams
Dont make a difference what you got
It doesnt matter what you lose
Dont make a difference if you like it or not
Baby Im gonna change your attitude
cause all around me there is mystery and wonder
Now cant you see it in my eyes
Ill crack the sky, make you feel the thunder
Youll never see through my disguise
Im a real smooth dancer, Im fantasy man
Master of illusion, with my sleight of hand
All the stages are empty when I steal the scenes
A beggar for love, second hand hero... king of dreams
All around, all around
Emotional squeeze through again and again
I know how to please you, your mind is on the bend
Cant you feel the power, surrender in my arms
Beyond the witching hour were travelling on and on
Im a real smooth dancer, Im fantasy man
Master of illusion, magic touch in my hand
The stages are empty when I steal the scenes
A beggar of love, second hand hero... king of dreams
Im a real smooth dancer, fantasy man
Master of illusion, sleight of hand
The stages are empty when I steal the scenes
A beggar for love... king of dreams

song performed by by Deep Purple
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be not a beggar

Avoid seeking aids
Unless in bare needs;
Avoid getting helps
Unless in dire needs.
Provide in equals
To those aids and helps.
You should not afford
To be a beggar.

Offer help and aids
That must not be baits;
Offer gifts and kinds
That should not be a debt.
Your pay out should not be
Less than your receipts.
You cannot afford to be a beggar,

You be not greedy
Which makes you ugly.
Then you aren’t shut
Doors by the dear ones.
You may remain poor
But not a beggar.
Being a beggar
Is worse than a slave.
18 09,2005