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Poems On / About POVERTY  2/11/2016 12:27:24 AM
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Best Poems About / On POVERTY
 
 
 
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  237.     

O' Poverty

O' poverty, thou art but smelling
And thy pollution dangerous to life
And the living wailing and crying
Wishing you never existed in the world
As they have no healthy gas for survival

Thou maketh men wander about
For gas, for repast, and for shelter
With no sweet repose in their eyes
With bare footed in the streets
And with no apparels for their mortals

Unprotected they're in the perilous night
And in the light very little hope of survival
Their society looks upon them scornfully
And took you from them the zeal to inhale further

O' poverty, thou art but smelling
For thou hath poisoned many a mortal
And may ruin bedeck thy number of days
As thou art cruel and fiend O' poverty.
 
LIGHTCHEERFUL BRIGGS

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  238.     

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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  239.     

My Favorite Ice Cream: Mama Made Ice Cream Without Much Of Milk

Reminiscent of poverty ridden days of my past.
As if a tale of life previous, time flies so fast.
Mama made ice cream without much of milk,
She added corn floor to render it so thick.
Dung of cow was the fuel, poked with a stick
Crushed peanuts and red roses did the trick.
First was the dry fruit, other colored it as brick.
In pitch dark pot, was a dish unsurpassed.
Reminiscent of poverty ridden days of my past.
As if a tale of life previous, time flies so fast.

Papa took the dish of love in a box of brass,
Kept it in the fridge, in the house of his boss.
We waited like greedy pups for papa to cross,
Who would get first was decided by the toss.
When mom knew of two- head coin, she was aghast.
Reminiscent of poverty ridden days of my past.
As if a tale of life previous, time flies so fast.
 
Abhilaaj

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  240.     

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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Poems On / About POVERTY