Poverty Christmas Poems | Poverty Poems About Christmas

These Poverty Christmas poems are examples of Poverty poems about Christmas. These are the best examples of Poverty Christmas poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

What's It About For You, Then

What’s it about for them, then
Loneliness, poverty, pain
Bang of the bailiff at the door
Death in a ditch in the rain

What is it like for the Joneses
Bigger and better you think
Posh port and pigs in blankets
Sick in the kitchen sink

What’s it about for him, then
A clock, and an empty chair
Picture of her on the mantelpiece
Candle smoke curls in the air

What is it like for her, do you think
Hairdo and heels and hurrah
Hampers and champers from Harrods
Packed in to Daddy’s car

What’s it about for the Christians
The return of the sacred child
Under a star in a stable bare
Jesus, meek and mild

What is it like for the Druids, then
Stood in the circle at dawn
Frost on the moss on frozen stone
Lit by the sun reborn

What’s it about for the children
Mysterious, glittery, bright
Hope of a mythic benevolence
Come as a thief in the night

What is it like for us, then
Rushing and spending and stressing
Cursing the souls in the queue at the till
Or kissing a friend with a blessing

What will it be like for you, then
Whatever you will it to be
Riotous ostentation, or
Peace and sweet charity

What it’s about for me is this
One white and holy dove
The silence after the shops have shut
And love

© Gail Foster 3rd December 2016

Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative | |

That Spark of Hope

A little girl lost her home this year, for her, Christmas wouldn't be there.
Her family was angry from all the troubles, they simply couldn't repair.
Don’t bother us about presents her parents said, they were depressed by their fate.
With bitterness they said, you’d be lucky to have dinner tonight, or even a plate.
Life was harsh, nowhere to go, anger and fear had put their souls, in a terrible place.
The little girl had found no hope or joy, lurking near their old car, of late.
The car was their home, gas money was scarce, and with few places they could park.
Yes, their troubles had slowly extinguished, that precious hopeful spark.
Without that spark, they’d never find their way, from this terrible place of cold and dark.
And life’s darkness grew deeper nightly, as hope vanished under a reality so stark.
Even the very fiber of her family, seemed to be shattering slowly, slowly, apart.
The child felt alone here in this dark car, as sadness tried to engulf her little girls heart.
The future seemed filled with hopelessness, as shame and dread, were leaving their mark.
Embarrassment to be seen and turned away, made it hard for them to reach out, to restart.
But life goes on, and we can’t fear to rebuild, or the future will be hard to impart.
The girl suddenly declared there’s more to life, and she wouldn't let it conquer her heart.
She decided triumphs will come, and all will get better, if she held to that hopeful spark.
Seeing the desolation and anger here, she couldn't stay around, she had to get away…
So she climbed out of the car, and she walked into town, not so very far to stray.
She went and looked at the store windows, where Christmas was being displayed.
The music and people filled her heart, lifting her spirits, deep inside, that day.
She noticed a store, way down at the end of the row, on the next block, where it lay.
No one was there, it seemed lonely, and the darkness was again, spreading it’s decay.
She ran there in time to see an old man closing up, with sadness on his face betrayed.
What use were his goods, if no one would shop, or come down along his way?
The super store down the block, was daily making him lose more and more in the fray.
He could no longer afford to hire people, and the season had very little time, to stay.
As they talked the girl saw that she couldn't let the darkness take another, so she prayed.
Then she told the old man, if he’d open the shop, she’d bring customers down his way.
She added, she’d find reasonable workers, if her family could live upstairs, she portrayed.
First bring the customers, he said, and the rest will be yours little friend, he conveyed.
She had him put his best toys, as a contest prize, and to add lots of lights on the display.
He set a contest, “Winners-the best collectors for families in need” on Christmas Eve.
He put out a bright contest sign, but still nobody came to his end of the block, to survey.
So she had him call the Salvation Army, for a kettle, Bell ringer, and Carolers, who came 
Lickety split, their way.
Then she had him call a dear old friend, and farmer, to bring a tractor full of bails of hay.
Another volunteered his horse and sleigh, both, to see the city lights thru New Years Day.
This was a great idea, since the older drivers, could use the help, for their bills to pay.
The girl ran all over spreading the excitement, and to come see the prizes, his way.
The families suddenly started heading toward his door, and to those wondrous rides.
At that moment her parents came, and she explained what her hope, had improvised.
Her father talked a contractor into building a disabled family a home, to help advertise.
He could get a tax break; come to this store for supplies, and hire unemployed workers, he devised, so wise.
In the end, each night grew brighter, because of a girls hope, and heart-warming delight.
And the old man began smiling for the first time, in a long, long, time, starting that night.
All was saved, a home was found, and another built, as a sad little girl taught grownups to smile along the way… 
You might say, A Spark of Hope lit a candle, then a raging fire, which was burning bright by Christmas day.

The moral to my story is:
Never give up on Hope; it’s your best friend, as life brings its troubles your way…
Know that with time, a good heart, good will, and friendly ways… 
You can find God’s gifts again, if you don’t let the dark take you away…

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

For When Poverty Speaks

In the corner a tree, and an elf on a shelf,
And reindeer ears on me, as I smile at myself
A wreath on the door, colored boxes with bows
Cover most of the floor, and as everyone knows…

It’s what every child seeks, but for many won’t come
For when poverty speaks, gifts are denied for some
So, take some of your wealth, open your hand and heart
Be content with your health, for with greed you must part.

Take a gift from the tree, and give a child a treat
Let your selfishness flee, for that joy can’t be beat
Take food to a shelter to help feed everyone
Kids run helter-skelter when the party’s begun.

Christmas is for giving, and not just for your own
As you go about living, let kindness be known
For more than just a day, we must stand up and shout 
And with voices we say, let our kindness ring out.

This Christmas season it is my fervent prayer
Remember the reason, and show that you care
Let each heart and soul send a message of love
Let His birth be your goal, ‘twas His gift from above.

Copyright © Betty Janko | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative | |

Who is knocking at my door

Christmas Angel Gifts

The moon shone bright that winter night,
across the sky still blue,
and every star excelled with might,
to wave the sun adieu.

Their light glowed through the window panes,
and lit the room like day,
could be enough to rid the strains,
and change sad moods to gay.

Yet she made effort to suppress,
the torment in her chest,
that caused her deep mental distress,
and thumped without a rest.

The clock alone would break the hush,
as hours ticked on the fears,
each tock brought on the sinking crush,
that squeezed out flows of tears.

She wondered if the midnight star,
would change her gloomy grey,
then curbed her thoughts from faring far,
and wished the night would stay

Behind the door ajar she stood,
her children slumbered still,
she hoped for them it was all good,
the thought gave her no thrill.

The morn looks bleak with sobs and sighs,
and the odd random yell,
for them bad news, cannot tell lies,
she hoped they take it well.

Tomorrow, hate will have a name,
for sure to be called mum,
will break her heart with all the shame,
and all her senses numb.

Their friends will show their newest toys,
her kids will wish her dead,
for they will not share in the joys,
but stay indoors instead.

If this dark deed unmasks dismay,
then life was not too bad,
to have no lunch on Christmas day,
it’s shameful and most sad.

For who chose this disastrous time,
a coward act untold,
to lay her off without a dime,
let sorrow fast unfold.

By time first light of dawn appeared,
she had not slept a wink,
looked awful with her make up smeared,
felt standing on the brink.

She pondered how they will subsist,
this loss was a great shock,
she felt that they could not exist,
then came the soft door knock.

No one was at the door, must be
her mind, her ears deceive,
till she saw boxes full of glee,
her eyes could not believe.

Although amazed she still felt coy,
a lump was in her throat,
out of her skin she jumped with joy,
she loudly read the note.

A Christmas angel gift for you,
delivered on their wings,	
to hold on strong and start anew,
and the Lord’s praises sing.

Can we be that angel this Christmas?	

Placed 1st

Contest: Who is knocking at my door
Sponsor: Tammy Reems



Copyright © Ronald Zammit | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative | |

A Christmas Memory

A Christmas memory
By Curtis Johnson

To this small community, my wife and I had come in 1974 to pioneer a church.
Our resources were meager, but we wanted to touch the lives of  about 50 families.
Contacting a generous grocer, we secured a discount of a vital product for any home.
On Christmas morning, we gave small packs of washing detergent to delighted families.

11212015 Curtis Johnson, for the contest, A Christmas Memory, sponsor, Broken Wings

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Living Water

Sore feet, long lists
Lost time, large bills
Just to find the perfect gift
That will probably break or be lost too soon
Christmas parties, gift exchanges
Choir concerts, ballet recitals
Is this all that Christmas is?
Or have we perhaps lost our focus?
And in the hours spent at the mall
Maybe we've forgotten why we celebrate
And maybe if we'd open our eyes 
To what the songs are saying
We might realize 
That the perfect gift
Doesn't come from a shopping mall
But is rather a lifelong impact
To provide Living Water
And save a life

Copyright © Victoria Elisha | Year Posted 2015

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Christmas has different meanings...
they can be spiritual in their degree,
or materialistic and these aspects
make up symbols of zest and glee!

We love this extravagant holiday rendering extreme joy,
but gifts and lights add many false thrills;
we should get rid of diseases and poverty:
deeply thinking of hunger pangs causing fever and chills!

Many empty stomachs groan and we don't hear them,
infants emit a loud cry and we choose to ignore them;
I'm very angry at the stubbornness of our greedy ways,  
we overlook their suffering while we feast at our tables!    

Let's think of those who go to sleep with aching bellies.
give all you have and save someone from dying;
be the giver and rejoice when they are singing:
giving with a sincere heart will multiply your blessings!

Christmas has different meanings....
the ones that are steeped in faith or those merely symbolic;     
I sit at the piano and play hymns;
has anyone else experienced inside a feeling so harmonistic?   

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

O Worled I am Human

O world I am a Human, history will see the day I am a Human born out of suffering into this world, did not chose my life nor my father nor my mother nor a national nor a religious nor a backbone, are all minor things that only I care about is that I am a human, I lay on the beautiful dreams and hope of a bright and wake up the bitter reality, nothing changing only the news is changing, every day trying to get out of the darkness to see the light, but the rocks Closed the way, come back and closed my eyes to dream am I a human? If so why live like them? possess what belongs to every human have a heart and have a blood and have a body and have a mind, have a clothing and eating and have shoes olso , and have money and have a housing, for this your terms to be human, open my eyes and find myself have a mind and have a body and blood, but homeless and not wear shoes and no eat and no money if what I am? They sayed So your a half Human, do not you, the world I am so predestination robbed me but I am a Human, I do not have a home but im Humans, i do not have a robed but im Human,  I do not have food but I human,i do not have a family but I am a Human I have no money but I am a Human, Sorry Dear world do not have the freedom to change my destiny but im a Human, I carry the love, honesty, good heart, good and hated racism and sedition and transcendence and wars so I have to be a Human dreams of love tree and live as a human being despite the backbone spite of sexual despite all national despite all my Color despite all religious in spite of what I lack you, I am a human, and we are all humans.

Copyright © Yassin abdo | Year Posted 2016

Details | Acrostic | |

Christmas Magic

Cold was the blustery wind driven snow
Heaped at my feet as I shook in the squall
Relentless ice dancers twirled in show,
I grunted and tugged on my thread-bare shawl. 
“So this is Christmas!” I cursed through my teeth,
“Trim out a pine tree in tinsel and light;
Make jolly your home by a festive wreath
And spare not a thought for my plight.”
Shiv’ring I turned, aimed to shuffle away
“MISTER!” What person would beckon to me? 
Alone had I suffered for countless a day
Good will to men; t'was a lost fantasy.
In spite of my grumbling, I heard them say
“Come warm by our hearth, it’s Christmas today!”

For contest: A Christmas Sonnet Acrostic
Hosted by: Andrea Dietrich

Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose | |

Black Christmas

                                         Black Christmas
Black Christmas, is not a time with little children hanging out their stockings
Or about Santa coming down the chimney pot and delivering presents
Nor Rudolph and the reindeers pulling Santa's sled it goes deeper than that
To the darker side of Christmas, it is a story of the homeless and poverty stricken
The people who have nothing to look forward to at Christmas time, no Santa,
A time were young and old people can't take life any more and tell themselves
It is time to move on to another world and they commit suicide as their only release
Yes this is society today, which was created by Governments and very rich people
Who are really serving the Devil, by being selfish and greedy and turning their backs
On society, they forever increase charges on bills and utility services, making people 
Go without electricity to cook with, and foreclosing mortgages on people's houses
Leaving families homeless and destitute, young woman, men and children are living
On sidewalks, railway stations and park benches, with no real place to live.
Yes this is Christmas, Black Christmas we are now experiencing, so no matter were
You live there is no escape from this sub standard way of life for these people.
The rich enjoy their life and could not care less as the governments grease their palms
for re-election pledges as they both support each other for the better life ahead.
While they are having a turkey banquet, some poor soul is freezing to death 
That have very little clothing or a place to keep warm, yes this is indeed a Black Christmas.

Copyright © John Ginesi | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Christmas at Christchurch

        I feel translucent 
	a man of marble skin 
	as if dreaming my motions 
	every step a tread in water
	each reach of my hand 
	a ghost grip touches 
	but nothing holds and yet 
	I clutch these stones and 
	iron spear barricades 
	as a sea-snail would the bedrock 
	for this is my folly 
	to hug close the masonry of charity 

	I feel nothing 
	no remorse runs down my arms 
	to my useless wrists 
	no rage 
	twists my mouth into rabid snarl 
	no pleasure lifts my face 
	from the footfalls 
	of those celestial beings 
	bustling above

	not even a soaked black wall 
	on which I am a shadow 
	penetrates my deadened hide 

	I feel grotesque 
	I am a gargoyle of flesh and bone 
	sown into the fabric of these 
	towers with closed doorways 
	that form broken arch homes 
	for broken things 

	no longer am I broken 
	I have embraced 
	the cold and hunger 
	of my mouth and my soul 
	I am free of this place 


	here I am still 
	here for you to see 
	if you can stomach 
	to see me 

Copyright © Steve Downes | Year Posted 2013

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Let us my dear brother in Christ

Each one of us, Jesus at our table for dinner to invite


His holy smile reflected in the eyes of the needy to see
This Christmas and for the eternity!*

© Demetrios Trifiatis
20 December 2016


Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2016

Details | Monoku | |


Let us be the fortifications of love for the lonely and needy so in peace Christmas to pass!*

© Demetrios Trifiatis
   11 December 2016 

*Struggling to recover! 
Merry Christmas!

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2016