The Smell
Poverty exudes odors
Desperation takes on hues
Uncertainty loudly clamours
Homeless move about
In a cacophony of sound
Illness of the street people
Odors abound
Fear of future flattens
Death of innocence cries loud
Odors of the madness
Smell of poverty abounds
Senses acutely caressing
Filth of necessities sins
Odors changing futures
Individuals meld in sound
Poverty exudes odors
Ignorance carries loud
Smell of desperation
No matter the flattened feelings
Horror of distorted senses
Keeps the homeless
In storms
Odors abound
poem by James Smallwood
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Related quotes
Abstrosophy
If echoes from the fitful past
Could rise to mental view,
Would all their fancied radiance last
Or would some odors from the blast,
Untouched by Time, accrue?
Is present pain a future bliss,
Or is it something worse?
For instance, take a case like this:
Is fancied kick a real kiss,
Or rather the reverse?
Is plenitude of passion palled
By poverty of scorn?
Does Fiction mend where Fact has mauled?
Has Death its wisest victims called
When idiots are born?
poem by Gelett Burgess
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Best way to get rid of kitchen odors: Eat out.
quote by Phyllis Diller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Self-esteem and self-contempt have specific odors; they can be smelled.
quote by Eric Hoffer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fake Flowers
ı do not like fake flowers
having no soul and odor
dry and like ice
they gaze with their icy..cold eyes
they tray to smell
but only in imitation
but have no smell or odor
ı n the natural flowers
you find the all the mixture and voices
of the colors and the odors
they smell
like a beloved..like a comrade..like a mother
and they flow into you
like a colorful fountain
one is man made
the other GOD made
one wavers and boasts ''ME..ME..MEE..
the other gives real friendship and love
and GOD..the one who looks at us
and protects us from above
Ali TURK KESKIN....translatı on Metin Ş AHIN
poem by Metin Sahin
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The scornful nostril and the high head gather not the odors that lie on the track of truth.
quote by George Eliot
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Smells
WHY is it that the poet tells
So little of the sense of smell?
These are the odors I love well:
The smell of coffee freshly ground;
Or rich plum pudding, holly crowned;
Or onions fried and deeply browned.
The fragrance of a fumy pipe;
The smell of apples, newly ripe;
And printer's ink on leaden type.
Woods by moonlight in September
Breathe most sweet, and I remember
Many a smoky camp-fire ember.
Camphor, turpentine, and tea,
The balsam of a Christmas tree,
These are whiffs of gramarye. . .
A ship smells best of all to me!
poem by Christopher Morley
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Sonnet V
A tide of beauty with returning May
Floods the fair city; from warm pavements fume
Odors endeared; down avenues in bloom
The chestnut-trees with phallic spires are gay.
Over the terrace flows the thronged cafe;
The boulevards are streams of hurrying sound;
And through the streets, like veins when they abound,
The lust for pleasure throbs itself away.
Here let me live, here let me still pursue
Phantoms of bliss that beckon and recede, --
Thy strange allurements, City that I love,
Maze of romance, where I have followed too
The dream Youth treasures of its dearest need
And stars beyond thy towers bring tidings of.
poem by Alan Seeger
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Locations And Times
LOCATIONS and times--what is it in me that meets them all, whenever
and wherever, and makes me at home?
Forms, colors, densities, odors--what is it in me that corresponds
with them?
poem by Walt Whitman
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Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odors, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
quote by P.B. Shelley
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We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty.
quote by Mother Teresa
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Why Tell Me About It I know All Too Well
Why tell me about It I know all too well
That many are living in their Earthly Hell
The hungry the homeless the poor and downtrod
They must be the children of some Lesser God.
Why tell me about it I know for the have nots life must seem unfair
So many grow poorer for every new millionaire
The scourge of poverty rife in every Race
In a fair Human World this would not be the case.
Even in so called wealthy Nations poverty does abound
Not too far from where the rich live the homeless to be found
The streets of the poor suburb a breeding ground for crime
Where many don't live to enjoy their life's prime.
Why tell me about it of course I'm aware
That the poor of the World have never been rare
And millions are living in dire poverty
In a fair Human World this would never be.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Compassion And Empathy
They have so much in common compassion and empathy
And those who do possess them are blessed 'twould seem to me
For these are rare enough gifts in the Human World of today
Where many are poor and homeless and in life have lost their way
Those with empathy and compassion in words never put others down
And you never will find them amongst the judgemental of the town
They feel for the suffering of others more of their type we do need
For their kindness and generosity of spirit as good people they do succeed
Those with empathy and compassion always helping people in poverty
They help the homeless and the destitute and they help the refugee
If everyone were like them there would not be poverty and crime
And war that cause death and suffering would be of another time
But not everyone is like them which does seem sad to say
So for those with compassion and empathy let us hear the loud hooray.
poem by Francis Duggan
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the smell of coffee and Fried chickens!
Our cultures have different flavors,
That may be liked or disliked,
Our nations have different smells,
That may be admired or disdained,
Our bodies have different odors,
That may attract or repel,
The human idea of selling flavors,
Really sell everywhere from the franchises.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Of The Selfish Side Of Humanity
Of the selfish side of Humanity I am only too aware
In a World where the self centred for the have nots one thought don't have to spare
Even in so called wealthy Democratic Countries poverty is not rare
And thousands must grow poorer for every new millionaire
So many Homeless and Stateless people in the bigger World out there
The have nots of Humanity are living everywhere
That all people are equal is born of a lie
But there is more to being Human than living for me, myself and I
In most cases those who talk of life choices do not know what they are on about
If they themselves life's necessities had never had to go without
If they themselves never lived as the homeless poor of Poor Poverty Street
Then their preaching is judgemental and their ideas are obsolete
To be born to poor parents and become Homeless is a thing that none would choose
In a Human World where for a minority to win so many have to lose.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Children Should Not Have To Be Homeless
There are thousands of homeless children in Beijing in China though that is not suprising to hear
For where there is a huge population there is poverty too 'twould appear
And China to anywhere else is no different the rich getting richer they say
And just beyond the leafy suburb is the suburb of neglect and decay.
There are thousands of homeless children in New York though with that some may not agree
In America the great Land of commerce no such a thing as poverty?
But the facts of course will tell you differently and in a World of inequality
There too are children homeless and hungry in the so called Land of the free.
There are homeless children in London in England as well as in Paris in France
The poor children of the poor suburb in life they do not have a chance
Their parents in Jail for drug abuse they become the kids of the street
They search the rubbish bins for food in dark alleys and what others do throw out they eat.
There are homeless children in Sydney and Melbourne and anywhere else one might name
Though that does not seem to affect us we never reflect on our shame
That many should have to grow poorer for one to become a millionaire
In a truly egalatarian society would never be looked on as fair.
Children should not have to be homeless though born into abject poverty
They should not be punished for the sins of their parents so much for our humanity
And money to some all that matters and money is married to success
Whilst the children of the poor live homeless on the street of the No Fixed Address.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Trail
The trail in the Winter is lonely
The loneliest place I know
But the trail is the place that I go to
When my troubles I can't let go
The howl of the wind keeps me company
And it's stiff cold slap on my face
Awakens me to the moment
A moment that is filled with God's grace
I remember the sweet smell of Summer
The colors still fresh on my brain
But the odors and colors of Summer
Are replaced by the dampness and rain
Yet the pull of the trail is a strong one
And nothing could keep me away
Not ten pots of gold and a promise
That it all could be mine someday
'Cause the trail is my church and my temple
And no greater peace can be found
Than the peace and the glory around me
That in the forest abounds
Written by Sara Fielder © 1997
poem by Sara Fielder
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So Many Poor Souls And Not Many Who Care
So many poor souls and not many who care
Are doing it quite tough in the big World out there
The homeless and hungry teenagers of poverty street
Are searching in rubbish bins for something to eat
The gap is increasing in the social divide
And millions are Stateless and Homeless and hungry World wide
The victims of droughts and wars and disease
In the refugee camps millions of refugees.
The marginalized are doing it quite tough
On poverty street they are sleeping rough
People should not have to go hungry in the World of today
But such is not the case that does seem sad to say
For one wealthy person thousands in poverty
Those who need far more than words of sympathy
People who look old before they reach their life's prime
To be born to poor parents is their only crime.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Banish Air from Air—
854
Banish Air from Air—
Divide Light if you dare—
They'll meet
While Cubes in a Drop
Or Pellets of Shape
Fit
Films cannot annul
Odors return whole
Force Flame
And with a Blonde push
Over your impotence
Flits Steam.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Nothing Verse
Night was not worth
selling the womb. Biological warheads
were sufficient to take on
the gender eugenesis.
People were busy again, in worshipping
the archaic weapons.
What is holding them together?
The fear of extinction? Or the celiac trauma
depriving them of all the healthy nutrients.
The warrior is dead, only his long nose
is still smelling the foul odors
of hate and strife.
The beetles are coming and the caterpillars,
swarming over the beds. Where will you
sleep now? And beyond was the life wasted,
and darkness. On mantel are standing
the empty frames of future, trying
to hold the lava, back and forth.
poem by Satish Verma
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