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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The Orphan Boy's Tale
Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless orphan's tale,
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake,
'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride,
And my brave father's hope and joy,
But in the Nile's proud fight he died,
And I am now an orphan boy.
Poor foolish child! how pleased was I,
When news of Nelson's victory came,
Along the crowded streets to fly,
And see the lighted windows flame!
To force me home my mother sought,
She could not bear to see my joy;
For with my father's life 'twas bought,
And made me a poor orphan boy.
The people's shouts were long and loud,
My mother, shuddering, clos'd her ears;
'Rejoice! rejoice!' still cried the crowd;
My mother answered with her tears.
'Why are you crying thus,' said I,
'While others laugh and shout for joy?'
She kiss'd me -- and with such a sigh!
She called me her poor orphan boy.
'What is an orphan boy?' I cried,
As in her face I look'd and smil'd;
My mother through her tears replied,
'You'll know too soon, ill-fated child!'
And now they've toll'd my mother's knell,
And I'm no more a parent's joy;
O lady, -- I have learnt too well
What 'tis to be an orphan boy.
Oh! were I by your bounty fed!
Nay, gentle lady, do not chide,--
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread;
The sailor's orphan boy has pride.
Lady, you weep! -- ha? -- this to me?
You'll give me clothing, food, employ
Look down, dear parents! look and see
Your happy, happy orphan boy!
poem by Amelia Opie
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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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Orphan Girl
(gillian welch)
I am a orphan
On gods highway
But Ill share my troubles
If you go my way
I have no mother
No father no sister
No brother
I am an orphan girl
I have had friendships
Pure and golden
But the ties of kinship
I have not known them
I know no mother
No father no sister
No brother
I am an orphan girl
But when he calls me
I will be able
To meet my family
At gods table
Ill meet my mother
My father my sister
My brother
No more an orphan girl
Blessed savior
Make me willing
And walk beside me
Until Im with them
Be my mother
My father my sister
My brother
I am an orphan girl
Be my mother
My father my sister
My brother
I am an orphan girl
I am an orphan girl
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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AN ORPHAN PARTING(İ f there were no sins..How would be aware of good things)
ı have got enough of everything
life and living
seen everything I had to see
enough and enough
that is enough
now..time is approaching
it is the era and time of parting
do not acquit me
do not bless me
if you want
do not forgive my wrong doings
sins and offenses
cause ı know and ı feel
in fact who is the one offended
born an orphan
grew an orphan
ı will leave this world an orphan
let them share
what I left behind
and remember me
but my poems
I am parting as an orphan
I want to live a new life
if there is one there
may be there
I will be an orphan
my FATHER the GODMetinb SAHİ N
poem by Metin Sahin
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Missing Link
A sickly child lie
frail on the sofa in the living room.
A knock on the door,
His mother opened.
The man who entered the child knew it was his father.
Whose child is this?
“It is your youngest son” his mother said.
The children in the street
all had a father; the child had waited for him.
But his father ignored him,
gave chocolate to his sister and brother,
then he drank from a bottle,
his mother threw him out.
Next day asked his mother, ” are you sure he is my father? ”
She slapped her son’s face and cried.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Offer
'Tell me, would you rather be
Changed by a fairy to the fine
Young orphan heiress Geraldine,
Or still be Emily?
'Consider, ere you answer me,
How many blessings are procured
By riches, and how much endured
By chilling poverty.'
After a pause, said Emily:
'In the words orphan heiress I
Find many a solid reason why
I would not changëd be.
'What though I live in poverty,
And have of sisters eight-so many,
That few indulgencies, if any,
Fall to the share of me:
'Think you that for wealth I'd be
Of even the least of them bereft,
Or lose my parent, and be left
An orphaned Emily?
'Still should I be Emily,
Although I looked like Geraldine;
I feel within this heart of mine
No change could workëd be.'
poem by Charles Lamb
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The Children Of Poverty Street
At least spare a thought for the children the children of Poverty Street
They are homeless as young teenagers and against the odds they must compete
Their parents serving time for robbery and narcotic offences and most of their role models in jail
Their circumstance of birth is a huge mark against them the poor young people destined to fail.
They steal for to buy food, drugs and alcohol on Poverty Street life is tough
Too young much too young to be homeless without shelter and sleeping rough
They are pushed to the social fringes the young people society disown
Ignored by the Government Bureaucracies and to the Police only known.
Who could envy them their existence those born into cruel circumstance
The Gods are completely against them of success they do not stand a chance
For them life is such a great battle they must battle their ghosts of despair
They don't even dream of the good life to them life is very unfair.
You who waffle on of life's choices with you talk is always so cheap
Bet you were not homeless at thirteen and on a park bench had to sleep
You would not talk of life's choices if you had to steal for to eat
If you felt alone and abandoned like the children of Poverty Street.
poem by Francis Duggan
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April, March! Soldiers Search for HUNGER MARCH - A1 Story
World has advanced in many days...
Yet in 21st Century poverty retains in umpteen ways;
Hunger glinted in his eyes...
He does begging and petty thievery, at the same time!
Cheeks were sunken and clothes were in rags but still, a crime!
Believe I swear in the name of god, my words are not lies.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
I saw a rag picker scrounging for a coin in the garbage,
Though he is with bare foot who knows as bub, he is cute!
Owing to the troubles he met, made him mute.
He can fill the rivers with poverty's tears...
His eyes were pale and mouth opened for food cabbage!
One among is he, pleading and begging the passersby yet nobody hears.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
The street is lighted with half naked
Bodies go begging down, the street and half fed,
From head to toe they're covered with poverty, yet
With pain and misery as their make-up set;
Hunger is present in their stomach and a rat's race!
And it is vaguely seen on their face and a food race.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Labourers in construction breaking the stones...
And lifting the bricks while scorching sun is the witness!
They work bodily, resembles awkward dance of a heap of bones,
The skin saturates and swallows the heat, I bet!
Leaving it dark as the midnight sky, oh! What a mess!
Their hopes are dashed; life is smashed of body’s sweat!
The Mother weeps and father yells!
Sitting in the house of poverty and what-else!
Small sister sleeps and her little brother dies and I linger;
His father only stares as he is killed by hunger...
Why doctors only cure diseases and why not
Poverty - the biggest disease of all. Is it not?
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Every now and then in newspapers, I hear
The death of a peasant or two, oh my dear!
Unable to feed family, life has become Herculean task,
Drowned himself in melancholy, under hunger mask!
Bogged down under wheels of Pressure, not to hide...
Due to debts of treasure, he committed suicide!
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Lot of hunger and empty bowl without food is poverty,
Not having one more dress to take bath is poverty,
............................................. ..............................................
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>READ PART 2>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
*A big NOTICE BOARD: Oops! Sorry the poem is NOT completed. This is just break time! Now read to make your reading wholesome read PART - 2
April, March! Soldiers Search for HUNGER MARCH - A2 Story
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Mother the Superior
Parental love in man and woman varies.
He loves his child for his pride and future.
She loves her child for its safety and future.
The father loves the bright and the mother, the weak.
The child without mother is an orphan.
23.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Orphain Train
(Julie Miller)
Come all you broken hearted, come and lay your burden down
Come kings and queens, come royalty surrender up your crown
Come empty-handed come with nothing of your own to claim
Come naked, poor, come like a child to ride the orphan train
Chorus: Come ride, ride on the orphan train
Put your ear to the track, you can hear your name
Come ride, ride on the orphan train, it'll take you all the way home
The way is narrow, it is steep that brings you to the door
But love awaits there to embrace your heart forevermore
(Repeat Chorus)
Come you abandoned, you forsaken
Friendless and alone, come refugees left homesick for
Some place you've never known
Here princes, paupers, criminals and saints are all the same
No more or less than God's beloved child aboard this train
(Repeat Chorus twice)
It'll take you all the way home
It's gonna take you all the way home
song performed by by Lee Ann Womack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without father - half orphan, without mother - complete orphan.
The Street Only Knew Your Name
Your street, rich street or poor
You should always be sure of your street
There's a place in your heart,
When you know from the start
And you can't be complete without a street
Keep movin' on, just like a train
Sometimes you gotta look back to the street again
Would you prefer all those castles in spain
Or a view of the street from your window pane
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name, oh your precious name, precious name
There was walter and joy, kate and roy
All hung around the corner lamplight
Get together sing some songs
Like boppin' the blues - you make me feel alright
That was long before fortune and fame
No such thing as a star when you've played that game
Everyone knew who everyone was
There was no preference in the street no, no
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name, oh your precious name
And you walked around in the heart of town
Listening for that sound
And you walk around in the heart of town
Listening for that sound
Blue suede shoes, it was the blue suede shoes
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Say About Life
You say about life that life for all is fair
You must have been talking to a billionaire
You want to know about life go to Poverty Street
And those who are doing it hard there you will meet.
The homeless and down and outs doing it tough
Without food or shelter obliged to sleep rough
That life for all is fair is so easy to say
For one like you with a good job and great take home pay.
On your philosophies on life I for one don't agree
So why bother waste your time on talking to me
Since I believe life's only fair for a minority
And not for the poor billions in poverty.
Your opinions are your's and that suits me fine
But your views on life are quite different to mine
With a great job, new home and healthy kids and a beautiful young wife
You are not one to be saying of a fair for all life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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The Death of Poverty
He was born like that
He was born into poverty
And his parent spoke it religiously to his ears
That this chain must be broken
Broken by work, work and nothing but hard work
His parent worked till their dying day
Only to still remain in chain
Fetters fatter and more stubborn with age
With determination he set out in rage
Bearing the pain, shame, hunger, and inhumanity
That the rich dream must become reality
Now, he is old, looking at then and now
The faded colour of poverty still painted today
And it will surely coat tomorrow
In this thought he was lost
Not knowing when he wandered to the edge
The neighbourhood of the dark one in black hood
He was seized by the neck and ceased
His orphaned son decided to be himself unlike his father
Or his strict grandparent of no par
The best singing couple our church ever had
But an ability self labeled vice they never shared
Not even among factory brethren with whom they worked hard
The orphaned son took to the pun shop
His father’s sacred baseball kit
In exchange for his love, his passion-
A guitar
Always under the oak tree the orphan sat
Harmonizing the strings
Using his father’s words as a song:
“Of how he was the best bat man in town
But the game he loved so much
He had to quit
For it was but a lure
Away from his purposeful journey
In the combat to kill poverty”
As the orphan sang, playing guitar one day
Soaring in the clouds of rhythm
A Cadillac had since stopped by
The occupant arrayed in fine fabric
Nodding with misty eyes
Wondering why a talent as this
Should waste away
He resolved in his heart to take him away
The orphan is no longer with us
In the reality of his dead fathers
But he now lives in their dream
Where the bed is neat and soft
Allowing only dreams that are sweet
In a place where the bread is fresh
And the meat is tender
We see the orphan now mostly on television
In a life that was his fathers’ vision
Of when the fetters of poverty would be broken
But he never did despite backbreaking work
But the orphan did it
Not by profuse sweat
Rather by love and passion
In sharing with others his GOD given mission
Of how to harmonize strings
And breathing rhythm from his vocal cord
poem by Osagie Isiramen
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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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April, March! Soldiers Search for HUNGER MARCH - A2 Story
Lot of hunger and empty bowl without food is poverty,
Not having one more dress to take bath is poverty,
Sheltered, willing but failing to accommodate a guest is also poverty,
Mother's sick but cannot afford treatment is also poverty,
If treated, prescribed but cannot buy medicine is poverty;
A mother's thought,2 mouthful of rice with 3 children is poverty.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
The fort of confidence is dismantled by poverty and frustration;
They can build castles in air though lack inspiration,
They simply look for food threw in dustbin in month of May!
They die while living, live in dying daily with their life of dismay;
Poverty is not crime but it is a curse and worse...
I'm brand ambassador of poverty and I endorse!
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Don't show poverty as excuse...
God gave you brain and make use and bemuse,
No matter if you are born in poverty's slum-dom
While some are handicap blind, dumb, deaf and a cough;
You work and Strive dawn to dusk with inspiration, if
You make education oxygen of your life and your kingdom.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Hence, don't look up to someone or don't cry and cry;
Go far, father and farthest, Age is no bar so try and try!
Take all ladders, Surpass Eiffel Tower and reach the sky!
Remember one Booker T Washington and Abraham Lincoln
Became presidents of America, and poverty is won!
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
From in India to Cambodia and Georgia to Indonesia,
From Kazakhstan to Afghanistan, China and all Asia;
From Namibia to Zambia and Algeria to Nigeria,
From Uganda to Rwanda, Morocco and all South Africa;
Bolivia to Columbia, Guyana to Argentina and all South America;
Third world is resounding with Mania! Mania! Food Mania!
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
........................................ ................................................. ........................
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>READ PART ONE >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
BIG NOTICE BOARD: Sorry, if you LIKE to grasp central theme of poem Just take a break! Now READ PART1 to make your reading wholesome.
April, March! Soldiers Search for HUNGER MARCH - A1 Story
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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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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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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The Heart, The Child, The World
Out in the world, the child
cries for the mother
as the wound cries for salt
as the lover cries
for her unrequited lover
as the ice cries out
for melting in the spring.
My heart is a spring
that pumps red blood.
I would give my child,
my girl child, my daughter
the vision of a mother
who does not flinch
when the heavy heel of man
comes down,
who loves the penis
when it pumps rich red blood
but values the wholeness
of her heart
above that battering organ,
that dumb implement,
which can so easily turn
from kind to cruel.
My heart is out in the world
like an orphan howling
on a street corner.
I want a warm, safe place
to hide my books, my child,
my heart
that is scarred,
seamed like a belly
which has given birth
to an imperious baby Caesar
but still,
despite its bursting fullness,
poem by Erica Jong
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