Poverty Child
In cold misty dawn,
Poverty child walked silent,
Collect things in trash.
poem by Spiritual Seeker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Misty Water Woman
I was driving round, as the sun went down
When I came upon a lake, the sign said misty water
And standing there, with wet and tangled hair was a girl
She said her name was bo, she was a farmers daughter
I said get in, Ill take you home, you must be cold
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty water woman
You never get to touch her
And feel her near
It began to storm, and our talk grew warm
Till I stopped the car outside a cold and lonely place
I said were here
But she had disappeared
And on the seat was a pool of tears
And a handkerchief of lace
I did not see her leave
I was amazed
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty water woman
You never get to touch her
And feel her warm
I sped into the house,
It took her father and her mother to straighten me out
What was it all about
Please let me know
She looked sad, and he looked mad
And he said, yes youre right, once we had a daughter
Her name was bo, but that was long ago
Years have gone since she drowned at misty water
And the way he took it, took me by surprise
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty apparition
You never get to touch her
And feel her near
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Love Trash
Refrain] Oh, I love trash!
Anything dirty or dingy or dusty
Anything ragged or rotten or rusty
Yes, I love trash
I have here a sneaker that's tattered and worn
It's all full of holes and the laces are torn
A gift from my mother the day I was born
I love it because it's trash
[Refrain]
I have here some newspaper thirteen months old
I've wrapped some fish inside it, it's smelly and cold
But I wouldn't trade it for a big pot o' gold
I love it because it's trash
[Refrain]
I've a clock that won't work, and an old telephone
A broken umbrella, a rusty trombone
And I am delighted to call them my own
I love them because they're trash
[Refrain, ending with]...Yes, I love, I love, I love trash
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Next To Collect
You could be the next to collect...
RESPECT.
You could be the next on the list...
To get it and quick.
You could be the next to collect...
RESPECT.
Tomorrow no one knows,
Just what to expect.
You may be next to collect it!
An overwhelming love received.
You may be next to collect,
A joy that never leaves.
You may be next to collect it!
A one of a kind peace...
On your mind.
You may be next to collect it!
An overwhelming love received.
You may be next to collect,
A joy that never leaves.
You may be next to collect it!
A one of a kind peace...
On your mind.
You may be next to collect,
Just accept you are blessed.
You could be the next to collect...
RESPECT.
You could be the next on the list...
To get it and quick.
You may be the next to collect it...
An abundance of happiness.
The next to collect.
The next to collect.
You may be the next to collect it...
An abundance of happiness.
The next to collect.
The next to collect.
You may be the next to collect it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Misty Cloud And Misty Sea
Misty Cloud called to blue Misty Sea,
Rise up to gather rain drops with me
Misty Sea called to driftin' Misty Cloud
To drift with you high up I'd be proud.
Misty Sea rose to join Misty Cloud,
Moist Misty Cloud came wet an' proud.
Joe Raindrop spoke to wet Raindrop Flo,
Dare you to drop down on Sea below.
Raindrop Flo splashed upon Misty Sea,
Joining pool of drops same as she.
Flo called to Raindrop Joe. I fell free
Dare you to drop down on wet Misty Sea.
Joe Raindrop splashed down on Misty Sea,
That's how rainfall comes down so free.
To drop on pleasant land or the Misty Sea,
Livin' things grow when rain falls free.
poem by Marion Gentry
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[The Trash Can Fire]
The Trash can fire burns worm.
For another dog left out in the cold.
Glistening streets,
where the dark allies meet.
Another dog without a bone.
Once loyal friend to his master.
Now master of disaster.
His only friend is where he roams
and the only home he now knows.
Is there by the trash can fire.
As rain comes down in sheets.
His matted fer soaks to the core.
Steaming his sole, like water on hot coals
He begs by the trash can fire.
The trash can fire burns worm,
little embers that glow in the night.
Def and blind is this dog.
Never will he belong,
to anything but the trash can fire.
poem by Seth Morrow
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Child labor and poverty are inevitably bound together and if you continue to use the labor of children as the treatment for the social disease of poverty, you will have both poverty and child labor to the end of time.
quote by Grace Abbott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Trash
in the house
at the kitchen
one finds that black bag
filled with trash
one has to throw them away
no keeps them
in our mind
in the same manner
there are thoughts
which are trash
and there is the black bag
one has to throw all these trash
away
in my poems
i got a trash
got a black bag
and i am throwing all these away
what us have to things
and thoughts
that no one loves?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Misty River
This morning
Me in this Misty River
All the happiness
I am feeling inside myself
Misty River
The mist is coming
From this Misty River
There are clouds
In the sky
And the mist
Is caused by the condensation
Of the heat mixed in the cold water
Misty River
I am in a fishing boat
That boat is moving slowly in this
Misty river
It is early in the morning
I am eating my breakfast in the fishing boat in the middle of this
Misty River
I hear the birds singing early in the morning
In this Misty River
There must be trees because the sound of the birds is coming from the Branches
Misty River
So peaceful
It looks so different with the mist
No one is around but me
With my fishing boat
And the beautiful sound of the birds
It is so nice
To have a place to come to
Where I can
Hear the sound of the birds
And be left alone
With no one disturbing me
Misty River
This is my special place
And by afternoon
No clouds I will see
The birds are beautiful
Their song is just beautiful like mother nature intended it to be
If nobody else appreciates this Misty River
I do
Misty River
I will die for you
Misty River
I will shed my tears for you
I have been coming here for so long now
Misty River
poem by Aldo Kraas
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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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Cabantian....
i wonder if poverty is still worth writing
that little child once in cabantian in 1979
eating breakfast: a glass of water,
chunk of brown sugar, a cup of rice
that was all that i saw
and i wrote poem about poverty
and poured my heart out,
i went back to the same place last year
the shanties are gone
perhaps the child has become another
work force in the banana plantation
or perhaps he had gone somewhere to the big city
serving as bell boy at the hotel
or waiter in a pizza house
or perhaps before that happened
he could be one of those salvaged victims
in the crusade against domestic rebellion
one of the unsolved disappearances in Davao
cabantian is silent, as it was silenced before.
no one knows. Perhaps he died at 15
...i do not really know and i do not want to recall.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Confronting Reality To The Past That Can Never Be The Same Again
we dream,
it is misty and cold
the mountain is dressed in fog
and the whole village
becomes a mirage
of breath taking
dream
as we tread upon a path
towards the
hut,
we were not shaky
we dream
that there is still the two of us here
like many years ago
it is misty and cold
and i am shaking and
afraid
this time
for real
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sunrise to Sunset.......
Sun shines slowly on the horizon,
Rising from the gloomy dawn;
Morning dew shies away,
Misty clouds make way;
Hot noon and evening,
Illuminating things living;
As twilight sets in soon,
Dawn brings in moon;
Cool breeze so rustic,
Makes me feel mystic.
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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Misty Water
By the town of straight and narrow,
Theres a dark and misty place.
Everything is hazy,
So the people are afraid.
All except marias daughters,
Who believe in misty ways.
Everything is lovely,
In a misty morning glaze.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
Take a sip of misty water.
Though maria is not lovely,
Shes the lady of my dreams.
cause I see my lady,
Through a misty, silky screen.
And seeing is believing,
But I cant believe my eyes.
Everything is lovely,
In a misty paradise.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
They like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
Take a sip of misty water.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
They like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters...
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What If It Was Your Child
I saw a child yesterday sitting on a corner, tears
streaming down its face, and I stopped to ask
why and the child replied, “no one likes me,
they laugh at me and say I lie, but I don’t lie.”
I walk away after leaving a hug and some words
of encouragement, but as I walked home I said,
“thank God it was not my child.”
Today thousands starved to death because they
had no food. Some ones little girl, some ones
son, but my child ate well.
I turned off the television news and I said, “thank
God it was not my child.”
Every day it seems there is more tragedy, more
horrors, children dying, abused and killed, and it
seems nothing is done to change these things, but
my child is safe, warm and fed.
So when I go to sleep at night I pray and say,
“thank God it was not my child.”
This morning someone screamed at my child and
when I in anger started to reply I thought of Jesus on
the cross, his father watching as he suffered and died
at the hands of the very ones he came to save and I
walked away and prayed, “thank God it was not my
child.”
So my friends the next time you are upset over some
wrong you feel has been done to your child, think of
all the wrongs in the world and should you feel the
need for revenge remember, Jesus could have called
all the angels in Heaven for help but instead he cried,
“father forgive them they know not what they do.”
And God said, ” what if it was your child? ”
Baby, I'm Gone!
well, i've searched the skies
and followed the wind.
there's not any place
that i havent been.
i've known hunger and sorrow,
walked poverty's streets.
with my heart in my hands,
and my faith in my feet.
i've drowned in the water,
and felt the fire's heat.
i've tasted the thunder,
and felt its dark beat.
and i'm alone,
still strong,
still waiting for the dawn...
baby, i'm gone!
i've heard the great guns,
saw the bodies of children,
seen men do things
for which they cant be forgiven.
i've heard the stories of God,
and the lies of men.
i've left a part of me
everywhere that i've been.
i've known the light inside,
and my evil twin.
gave away my soul,
and owned my sins.
and i'm alone,
still strong,
still waiting for the dawn...
baby, i'm gone!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Starvation
I think the world is starving itself
Thousands of packs of condoms are free
yet even aid to the poor is at cost
little girls starve their bodies
to let the most part go uncovered
and bare the cold, cold world
we collect taxes to build bridges
when we are at the last ridges
poverty takes us to the edges
yet the city shines like the sun that blazes
holding all the treasure of ages
But we are empty vessels
filling our souls with a maddening liquor
we are cold and scared lungs
searching for a warm murderous puff of smoke
slowly undressing for human starvation
the once envisaged final damnation
poem by Timothy muggaga
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Love Child
Tenement slum
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ah
You think that I don't feel love
But what I feel for you is real love
In other's eyes I see reflected
A hurt, scorned and rejected
Love child, never meant to be
Love child, born in poverty
Love child, never meant to be
Love child, take a look at me
I started my life in an old, cold run down tenement slum
My father left
He never even married mom
I shared the guilt my mama knew
So afraid that others knew I had no name
This love we're contemplating
Is worth the pain of waiting
We'll only end up hating
The child we maybe creating
Love child, never meant to be
Love child, scorned by society
Love child, always second best
Love child, different from the rest
Hold on
Hold on (Ooooooohhh)
I started school, in a worn, torn,
Dress that somebody threw out
I knew the way it felt, to always live in doubt
To be without the simple things
So afraid my friends would see the guilt in me
Don't think that I don't need you
Don't think I don't wanna please you
No child of mine 'll be bearing
The name of shame I've been wearing
Love child, never quite as good
Afraid
Ashamed
Misunderstood
But I'll always love you
I'll always love you
I'll always love you
I'll always love you
I'll always love you
I'll always love you
You-ooo-ooo
You-ooo-ooo
You-ooo-ooo
song performed by by Faith Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The silent child
The silent child is not a blind child
eyes wide open while yours are closed
you speak to much and listen less
this child of yours will take over
your own creation outsmarting you
he can now see between the cracks
the child realises you are not what you sayd
that you dont do what you say you do
the silent child knows but wont speak
poem by Vincent Brisebois
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