Impoverish Child
A small poverty-stricken girl wearing shabby clothes and unkempt hair. Treasures in heaven was all she bear. Poverty seem to be her destiny in life, but as she grew she struggle to survive. Nine was the age she began to toil. Sunrise to sunset was all. She was taught God's love and never be idle for survival. She remember God's word, through sorrow the heart will be better. Through diligence life began to matter.
Life had dealt her a bad hand, she remember it's God who giveth wealth to make one stand.
through prayer and toil riches in life came soon. Poverty was not her doom.
poem by Sylvia James
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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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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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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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Help For The Poor
Forty Word Poem:
Poverty-trapped and poverty-stricken
To consider children in need is our mission.
Vintage harvest, but too small a yield;
Equality for everyone would be the ideal.
Bread must be shared now and evermore
Poverty's a subject worth fighting for.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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What Else Can Be Done
dont make poverty an excuse
god gave you mind you better make its use
no matter if you are born in the poverty's slum
while some are handicap, blind and dumb
its better to work hard and strive
and make education bone of your life
for studying makes you dignified
and helps your nation feel pride worldwide
as a good citizen select a right politician
who have perfection to lead your nation
let's remove poverty from our country
which compells a mother to sell her baby
prove yourself and show the world what you can be
inspite of being idle and blindly following your destiny
when there is a will there is a way
after every dark night there is bright sunny day
poem by Fahmina Arjumand Misha
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O' Murderous Poverty
O' poverty, thou hast made man prostrate his soul for repast
Thou hast made him swallow the bitter pills of living
Yet thou sing songs of death to his hearing
O' murderous poverty, thou art cruel and fiend.
In thy bosom cometh suffering, pains and sorrows
Thou taketh delight when the world's burden heaped upon man
Man toil in vain for subsistence from sunrise to sunset
Yet thou castigate him with thy unseen wand
O' murderous poverty, thou art cruel and fiend.
Man roams about the street with no shoes for his feet
And with no vest upon his already worn out bones
Having his repast from the table crumbs of other folks
Not certain of where the next crumbs of survival cometh
Yet you castigate him with thy unseen wand
O' murderous poverty, thou art cruel and fiend.
His offspring sick and pale then die ere his face
His heart become a place where dirge and elegy meet
And he ask 'Poverty, why thou puncture the tube of my happiness?
Why art thou the architect of man's sorrows and grieves'.
Yet thou castigate him with thy unseen wand
O' murderous poverty, thou art cruel, cruel, cruel even fiend.
poem by Lightcheerful Briggs
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Spectators Of Poverty
Life spectators
from high living status
with their Owl binocular's eyes
dwell on wealth while munching pie,
Spectate life of I and poverty in a fight
Battling and wrestling for better life,
Life blushed lost sight
Soul kicked outside
The mind suffered
Pieces of I scattered all over
And all they do is intervening with freebies
Everyman for himself!
That's what they said
They fed their pockets with fat
And I was completely sad
They told me remedy is a school
And hereafter life is cool
Only if they know how I feel
This paining merciless sting of poverty
Sinking deep in my life of no property
Just a pauper living in a liberty
filled with constraints
I loath poverty
It's menacles handcuff dreams
It made homies to depend on the bins
Homies are everyday environmental cleaners, collecting boxes and tins
to scrapyard
Almost all adults and teens
On their shoulders with heavy beams
of poverty
And left spectators to relish life of kings
Damn spectators and poverty!
Damn!
poem by Mojalefa Owami Mogakane
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Their Great Lust For Life
In life for many every day there's some battle to fight
And many must go to bed hungry at night
That is those who do have a bed to sleep on
And any hope of success that they had from them gone.
Their life's greatest battle is just to survive
And their great lust for life only keeps them alive
A fair go in life to them has been denied
Those on the wrong side of the social divide.
Familiar to poverty and they know of despair
But their great lust for life keeps them hanging in there
Like poor struggling fish washed in by the tide
And if there is a god he is not on their side.
The poverty stricken the poor and downtrod
The Homeless and the Stateless of the lesser god
Yet despite their misfortunes to life they do cling
And their great lust for life is an amazing thing.
With their heavy life's crosses they struiggle to cope
And their great lust for life it was born out of hope
That lady luck on them one day soon will smile
And their every day struggles will have been worth-while.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Tomorrow May Be Better
Tomorrow may be better you hear some people say
But tomorrow will come in it's own good time we must live for today
And tomorrow for some will not dawn that's life one must suppose
We are as fragile it would seem as the petals of the rose,
Tomorrow may be better for only some maybe
And you don't think of tomorrow if you live in poverty
If a better tomorrow you cannot seem to see
With your struggle for survival you struggle ceaselessly,
Tomorrow may be better for some but not for all
And from life we are always learning before we walked we did crawl
That money speaks every language so happens to be true
But many hope for the change of luck they feel that they are due
And many with their poverty are struggling for to cope
And that tomorrow will be better they can only live in hope.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A girl of my life
The girl of my life
Turned me on
Made me stun
Told me hon.
The girl of my life
Said me be man
Come with me you will get fun
Never leave you hon.
Never make you alone
The girl of my life
Changed my feelings
Care my feelings
Loved my feelings
And described how valuable the feelings
The girl of my life
Who came with a spring in my life
Who made me feel that every season is spring if she is in my life
Who just show me how much innocence is in my life
What should i do in my life
The girl of my life
Who was a blessing for me
Who was not a girl a goddess for me
Whose voice was so adorable than every singers
Whose only word makes me feel the heaven
Whose one cute smile make the best for her
Whose one word hurt me so much that i deleted some of mine internet accounts
The girl of my life
Whom i love so much
Whom i wanna marry
Whom i wanna make mine forever
And ever and ever and ever
who is the one except who i cannot think anything
Who is my destiny
THE GIRL OF MY LIFE
MY RYTHIM OF LIFE
MY LOVE OF LIFE
MY HEART OF LIFE
MY POEM OF LIFE
MY SONG OF LIFE
MY DESTINY OF LIFE
MY AIM OF LIFE
MY DREAM OF LIFE
MY ANGEL OF LIFE
MY ANGEL DREAMY OF LIFE
THE SWEETEST THING OF MY LIFE
THE ONE AND ONLY POSIBILITY OF MY LIFE
THE GIRL OF MY LIFE
THE REAL LIVE OF MY LIFE
THE FUTURE OF MY LIFE
THE UNSAID WORDS OF MY LIFE
THE NE AND ONLY BODY LANGUAGE OF MY LIFE
THE DEPATURE AND BREAK WAS THE SADDEST PART OF MY LIFE
THE GIRL OF MY LIFE
A GIRL OF MY LIFE
poem by Rajnish Jena
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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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Vignette - III
THE ARTISAN.
This twilight gloom. This lone retreat--
This silence to my soul is sweet!
Awhile escap'd from toil and strife,
And all the lesser ills of life,
Here only at the evening's close,
My weary spirit finds repose;
My sinking heart its freedom gains,
Which poverty had bound in chains!
For here unheard the moments fly--
And so secure, so happy I,
That, often at the very last,
I feel not that my dream is past.
The little hour of bliss I spend,
With thee, my chosen, only friend!
That transient hour the heart sustains,
Which poverty has bound in chains!
And for this dear, this precious hour,
I would not, if I had the power,
Exchange a worldling's life of ease,
Whom all around him seek to please.
I have no other friend beside,
But here I safely may confide.
Suspicion ne'er the bosom stains,
Which poverty has bound in chains!
How oft I wonder at my lot!
How oft are all but thee forgot!
While in this half-despairing breast,
Love builds a little, quiet nest,
To hover o'er with joyous wing,
Nay, sometimes soar aloft and sing!
'Tis this alone the heart sustains,
Which poverty has bound in chains!
poem by Matilda Betham
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For Many Life's Road
For many life's road is uphill all of the way
From the moment they are born till their very last day
They know what it is like to know of poverty
To make do on little their life's destiny
I feel that good luck in life has been with me
I never was homeless or a refugee
I never did go to bed hungry at night
For many life it is a much tougher fight
You do not have to go far poor people to meet
There are so many of them on Poverty Street
From where they live 'tis a long road to renown
Their ill luck to be born on the poor side of the town
For to live as a pauper is something most would not choose
Yet in life for one to win many have to lose.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Love Finds It Hard To Live Amongst Poverty
The most I can offer you is sympathy
That life can be a bugger one would have to agree
Your mind it is ravaged by financial worries and care
The spectre of poverty at you does stare
Life is not meant to be easy said George Bernard Shaw
And in the bigger World out there it is Murphy's Law
Everyone for themselves and God for us all
Those words from my boyhood I often recall
Your ex wife with her and your young son and daughter live with another man
For to grow old with you was not in her life's plan
You were the man she once did love and admire
But of a poverty type of existence she quickly did tire
Love finds it hard to live amongst poverty
Life can be a bugger you are telling me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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21st Century Cries.
21st century cries.
World has advanced in many ways, yet poverty still cries.
Looking at this old man with tears in his eyes.
Desperately searching for food love and clothes.
We all know what it clearly indicates and shows.
I see poverty in a rich man trying to break the law.
I see poverty in a well-educated man who thinks the subject is a bore.
I see poverty in a literate man who lacks respect for poor.
I see poverty in you yes you who wants more and more.
Written by salma torrez.
copyright.
poem by Salma. Torrez
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Your Riches—taught me—Poverty
299
Your Riches—taught me—Poverty.
Myself—a Millionaire
In little Wealths, as Girls could boast
Till broad as Buenos Ayre—
You drifted your Dominions—
A Different Peru—
And I esteemed All Poverty
For Life's Estate with you—
Of Mines, I little know—myself—
But just the names, of Gems—
The Colors of the Commonest—
And scarce of Diadems—
So much, that did I meet the Queen—
Her Glory I should know—
But this, must be a different Wealth—
To miss it—beggars so—
I'm sure 'tis India—all Day—
To those who look on You—
Without a stint—without a blame,
Might I—but be the Jew—
I'm sure it is Golconda—
Beyond my power to deem—
To have a smile for Mine—each Day,
How better, than a Gem!
At least, it solaces to know
That there exists—a Gold—
Altho' I prove it, just in time
Its distance—to behold—
Its far—far Treasure to surmise—
And estimate the Pearl—
That slipped my simple fingers through—
While just a Girl at School.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Many Say Our Life's Journey
Many say our life's journey is fashioned from the life choices we make
That due to poor decisions the wrong road we do take
But assumptions to make to some people do come easily
The people who discount what is known as life's destiny,
The child born of parents living in poverty
Disadvantaged from birth what life choice has she or he?
Homeless as teenagers with little to eat
On the dingy sidewalks of Poverty Street
Life choices not for those of the poor streets of town
For most from there life's journey never leads to renown
Homeless as teenagers they turn to drugs and crime
And like their parents before them serve many years of jail time
Life choices are not for everyone it does seem to me
Though with me on this one many would disagree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On Life Choices
Only one can be president and only one can be pope
And for every millionaire many struggle to cope
With the business of living, poor people are not rare
There are billions of them in the big World out there.
For many life is a battle uphill all of the way
The people who do survive from day to day
To stay out of jail for them a remarkable feat
For many the road to prison starts on Poverty Street.
In the refugee camps of the World thirty million mostly war refugees
And in drought ravaged Countries people dying of hunger and disease
We do have life choices some are known to say
Those who look at life in a simplistic way.
To some people life choices only apply
Most born into poverty though hard they try
Will never be wealthy or know of happiness
Their crime to be born at the wrong address.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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