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173.
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Cruel Formality
The dark weather spreading all place people shivered by cool humidity
Somebody shivered without food they wealth thieving cruel people like beast they cry
Turn to back for doctrine demolish impartial earn money from pray
Although they thieving money from innocent man who shivered beneath cold with sever hungry
The rich man drunk and with fill full stomach kicking innocent people
At last programmed of development country poverty people killing or arrest using them power of command till end of life
The king of people around many of queen drinking wine eating grapes discussing condition of people
Although suffered people by poverty around anybody no one shivered by rich man curse
Greedy judges and lawyers no sense of doctrine never giving for recompenses for living
Try to hang suffered people without guilty seem everything tie with lying
Just seem to be visage of poverty innocent people they turn to charge try to arrest they noising
Without free walking in him motherland living in formality who one talks him party for surviving
Every hoped broke cry him front of altar do pure my sole till redness both eyes
Although every one cure for rich people they never singing or written sad poems
Heritage of own country living and freely talking freely for fill stomach well without blanks
Make him courage for see better formality the doctrine follow him whispered blowing winds
inguruwatta pushpadewa
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174.
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But tears only for my Grandma
I was born the day and date I cannot remember like many;
I was leisurely growing watching my little sisters
scratching heads, wiping tears of poverty!
Coconut oil was scarce; brothers knickers were sparse
My mother too bore silently the smoke in her eyes twice daily,
In front of the husk stove daily;
with her mother (our lovely grandma) together,
Worship their family Doctor Baba Goush Baba
For the cure of my mothers Leucoderma;
well over 3 yrs; walking well over 3 km
Day after Day;
Faith finally paid; curse finally parted
A walk together with mother and mother with affection
Sharing poverty and poverty in succession
Crying sobriety in progression;
Hapless future with six kids on hand;
Her mom on back; her hubby in barrack
Finally
A life is lead
Up to this Summit of opulence
With my Mom and Dad happily
But Tears
only for my Grand Maa!
© Krishna Baalu2010
krishna Baalu
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175.
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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.
Francis Duggan
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176.
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George Crabbe Wrote Of
George Crabbe wrote of hardship and poverty and woe
In the England he lived in a long time ago
But perhaps his poems might be more popular today
Had he looked at life in a less truthful way.
George Crabbe wrote of children in dire poverty
The poor sad victims of Human cruelty
And the poems full of pathos and the poems full of truth
Of a poet who was blessed with the great gift of ruth.
He wrote of human cruelty to their own kind
A God in the soul of such a person you'll find
He did not write of mythological figures or monarch or squire
He wrote for the poor his type I do admire.
Of the poverty around him he was all too aware
But poets like George Crabbe they have always been rare
Though if you feel a bit down and a good laugh you do need
His poems lacking in Humor are not for you to read.
Of the poor souls of England George Crabbe did write
His poems not hard to understand or to read or recite
And though as a person and poet he was great
Such poets the masses never do celebrate.
Francis Duggan
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