Best Down On Their Luck Poems
The sparkle of charity is alive and well
It’s the grounds for cohesion and solidarity
Making spiritual gardeners of us all
Goodwill marries kindness
Sharing bounty with open heart
And helping hand inspired by faith
Benevolence born of compassion
And hope aimed to appease
Brethren down on their luck
A heart that’s pure gives without asking
Who is sincere who is deserving
Or who is out there to deceive
Charity is best when unbound
Spontaneous and genuine
When it leaves us humbled
Wanting to contribute
To a world of philanthropy
After all who are we to judge
AP: 2nd place 2020
Submitted on October 13, 2019 for contest 1ST CORINTHIANS 13:13 INSPIRATION sponsored by REGINA RIDDLE - RANKED 2ND
You've seen that look before,
so many times that you lost count
It's the look of hopelessness,
the look of despair
Vacant eyes that no longer care
Who let the emptiness in,
who stole their zest for life
Who squeezed the vitality out,
who removed their heart with a cold butcher's knife
Was this travesty done swift and surgically,
or perhaps it happened incrementally
Bit by bit,
drip by drip
Everything they every cared about
got clean ripped from their hands
Maybe they lost their kids
on a drunk driving holiday
Maybe lost the spouse,
when forgiving them was too hard a thing to pray
Maybe lost the house after losing the job
Whatever the reasons, former associates and friends shun them now,
because maybe they think that they're cursed with plain bad luck
Maybe having no family to speak of,
got them thinking life sucks
Down on their luck right now
would be a kind thing to say
But in their heart they know better,
for every sin committed, there's a pound of flesh to pay
So they wander around lifelessly
with that vacant look in their eye
Just wasting the time away until the day they die
Why is it when you go out of your way
To help someone brighten their day
Or solve a problem that has things in disarray
They want to play you as if to say
You owe them in some superficial way
Putting on some kind of poor me display
Overshadowing the kindness you portray
Some are not able to see the good deed
That some people give so freely
They do it because they are able to see
What a difference this would be
For them to help make your day stay in play
Some people lack the ability to foresee
People go out of their way, not for praise
Or to be a standout who wants you to obey
Not to create a cushion for some far off distant day
We do it because we care
When we see someone in dispare
Or life seems to be unfair
When someone is down on their luck
Because everything has run a muck
Feeling like lightning has struck
Then being able to help someone become unstuck
It's just good karma that is our choice to send their way
It doesn't require money
Or a promise you will make it right someday
It simply requires a sincere thank you
A genuine reply without asking why
Understanding that everyone
Has not just left you standing
When your day became way to demanding
Knowing someone went out of their way
To keep your day underway
It's not how we repay the kindness
But rather how we display
All the goodwill that came into play
To help make it through your day
You do something that's really dumb.
Every day you call homeless people bums.
Like me and you, they're human beings.
But that's something you have trouble seeing.
What you say about the homeless really does suck.
You have no right to look down on people just because they're down on their luck.
When you see what they go through, you show no concern.
They need our help, maybe one day you'll finally learn.
Certain people won't help the homeless because it's not politically correct.
You and those people better start learning that homeless people deserve respect.
I help only the following two types of people.
Children & The Mentally Disabled.
All other down on their luck people can all go to hell
because most likely they caused their problems of their own free will.
I will Always however help every single other animal.
The distressed and the oppressed of human acts unfathonable.
I'm eight years old,
And I'm in a mess.
We have not that much money,
not even enough, to buy my sister a dress.
So think, think, think. What can I do?
I can go door to door,
And ask for a spare dime,
But, there are so many doors,
And I don't have that kind of time.
I can call Grandpa Jack,
I know he has big bucks,
But he only gives it out, to people
who are down on their luck.
I could write a letter to my Grandma Jean,
She's always been really hip to the scene!
My Dad would give me the money I bet,
But not until I worked up a good sweat!
I might come back to this one,
Depending how desperate I get.
The want ads? I wonder
if they have a job,
for me?
Yes, but, you have to be
between the ages of eighteen
and sixty-three.
This isn't working!
My sister is starting to cry.
She knows just how to work me,
I can't take it, to see a big tear in her eye.
I told her, "not to worry. I'll make it happen,
wait and see. You'll have a pink dress,
down to your knees."
So I sat down and put my head in my hands,
And I sat like that, until I came up
with a
plan.
Here's what I decided to do...
I went to my closet,
I started digging from the top.
It took forever, to get to the bottom,
the place I could stop.
I cleaned, stacked and sorted,
then priced all my stuff.
Surely, all of this would bring
more than enough!
Then I sold all the things,
that I didn't need.
By the end of the day, all the change
in my pocket, was enough money indeed!
So, down to the store,
I pedaled to quick!
So fast, in fact, I started feeling
quite sick!
I pulled from my pocket, all the cash
I'd worked for.
Then exchanged it for a pretty pink dress,
I knew my sister would adore.
Back on my bike, the dress flying behind.
All this work, all this effort!
But, could I make it back home in time?
I threw down my bike, as I caught the dress
from its flight.
Then, burst open the door, shouting
"Sis, close your eyes, tight!"
The look on her face, as I revealed
to her, the dress
Let me know as a brother, I was the best!
So I solved that problem,
Now I could relax.
There was no more stress,
over a silly old dress.
Hare Krishna's
In their Pickups
Depressed Comics
Down on their Luck
Teenage Girls
Screaming Meme's
Commie Pinko's
Leftward Leaning
Vincent Price
Flo and Eddie
Rodger Rabbit
Priscilla Presley
Nuns in Habits
Dwarf's in Ponchos
Deadbeat Dads
Munching Nachos
Right-Wing Nut Jobs
Trading Slogans
A few Hero's
Including Hogan
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Buddhist Monks
With Electric Banjos
Holding Signs Up
Of Marlon Brando
Taxi Cabs
Blaring Show Tunes
Pregnant Women
Down-loading Soon
Derby Jockeys
Flying Monkeys
Kool-Aidholics
Skittle Junkies
Bozo The Clown
Bumper Stickers
Psychedelic
Crazed Toad Lickers
Rhinestone Cowboys
In their Skivvies
Gothic Girls
Heebie Jeebies
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Blue Haired Granny's
In pink Moo Moos
Ballerina's In
Tattered Tutus
Mathematician's
Number Crunchers
Even have Some
Out to Lunchers
Model 50's
Do Wop Daddies
One More Round Of
Flo and Eddie
People Sneaking
Across the Border
Lonely Fry Cooks
Taking Orders
A Few Wannabes
Not Saying Much
Will The Real Elvis
Please Stand Up
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Thank you...Thank you very Much
Ladies and Gentlemen
Elvis...Has Left The Building
I have done it all yet I still have some worry
I need to focus to get through this flurry
I want to help others I want to succeed
I want a chance to once again help those in need
See my worries are real its turning into fear
I helped thousands in a shelter so close to here
I watched men enter daily into a shelter of last resort
Yet one lesson stood out to me that frontline experience taught
The system is failing men women and especially children
They instill false hope then shun them to an outdated building
they stack them in bunk beds give them an economical meal
They let them enter and exit with no regard for how they feel
they expect these people to reside side by side with those who suffer addiction
When they have tried to remain sober that's a torturous affliction
they ask a struggling alcoholic to sleep a foot from a inebriated man
Who drank a fifth of vodka on his way still holding the bottle in his hand
They ask those who shoot dope to sleep a foot away from someone with a syringe
I could share stories of horror that could make anyone cringe
I watched healthy men down on their luck
Stand on a corner in search for a buck
I watched these men deteriorate as every day had passed
I watched at least 20 eat a horrible meal from a shelter as their last
Dying in a system that sets them up for failure and strife
It is by far the worst most possible circumstance to call life
Please read where do I belong part 2
The World of the One Percent
By Elton Camp
The super rich is who these folks are
More wealthy than old Croesus by far
They reside in the most fabulous estate
Privacy protected by a guarded gate
A mansion with elevators & indoor pool
Where as kings and queens they rule
Sparkling clean and always kept that way
By staff: butler, maids, cooks and the valet
“The master is quite indisposed,” they say
To any who may attempt to visit that day
Breakfast in bed they can anytime enjoy
Where they is nothing around to annoy
Even doctors willingly pay them a house call
As do stylists, masseurs, barbers—one and all
Personal shoppers go out to buy their clothes
Unless a tailor comes—it’s sure one of those
For it is only poor folks, down on their luck
Who have go and shop at Sears & Roebuck
Since only the little people pay income tax
In carrying their fair load they are found lax
Certainly, no self indulgences do they spare
For the uncouth masses they have little care
Unless James brings around the limousine
It’s in a mere $200,000 car they are seen
A world of incredible privilege is theirs
Where they relax without having any cares
When I was younger I had
an answer for everyone
and everything
A word of wisdom
or encouragement
for every situation
But the longer I live
the less I have to give
Not sure whether
I ran out of words
along the way
simply spent my share
or whether, sometimes,
there are no words
left for anyone
to say
Yes, the longer I live
the less I seem to
have to give
Oh I have love-
and empathy...
Enough feelings to
drown the world
in a Biblical-size flood
of emotion
But nothing more
no other store
of things to say
Seems every time lately I
leave my house
I see someone
homeless, down-on-their-luck
desperate, quietly pleading
voices softly whispering
as not to disturb
their last dangling
delicate shred
of self-respect
and dignity
Which is hard
because there's not
much dignity in
begging for the basic things
like food, or shelter
from the cold
And while not yet homeless
I can't help, as I'm too
down-on-my-luck, too
And I wonder
what the difference is
between me and you
and them-
we're certainly no better
just people, jars of clay
what's to guarantee
that that won't be me...
someday?
3/8/15
The thunder quaking
While there were structures shaking
And pieces of lumber breaking
During this undertaking
I would leave no others waiting
Down on their luck and stuck, in the gutter while its raining
Are we cursed?
As others in the sea surf
It could really be worse
But value the extreme worth
Of such teamwork
That could lead to a green earth
It's difficult to fathom
So imagine
What could happen
If everyone had more enthusiasm
And compassion
As if it spread like a chain reaction
Would there be satisfactions
In a place with the vastest canyons
So what if I'm seen as reclusive
One can inspire a movement
That pushes for improvement
No matter what, I will prove it
Even when it's hot and humid
And time for consuming extra fluids
You better take a good look at yourself and be honest about what you did
where im from
the streets are paved with gold
everyone smiles when you walk by
there is a million choices
dreams are sold cheap
your pockets get fat, so does your belly
no one worries
no one fears
if you don't like whats going on
you can disappear
land of the clusterf*ck
lineage of the ancient right
the cancer blights
the antler fights
slave owner on a buck
kick him right when
they were down on their luck
f*ck it rough then
lay pounds of wishes crushed
people of the up and up
hoarders of the suckerpunch
pumpkin or a butternut
sequel where the hungry hunch
Fred has been working with an agency called Hunters for the Hungry for five years. During that time, his food bank has received thousands of pounds of venison to feed the poor. This year, however, when Fred received no call from the agency saying it was ready to deliver the meat, he called the organization himself.
The answering machine was full and Fred never got through. Finally, he called a state officer for the agency and to his dismay he found out what the problem was.
Fred learned that the state’s governor, in an effort to balance the budget, had stripped $100,000 from the allotment to Hunters for the Hungry. In past years, that money had allowed donors of deer meat to have it processed free of charge. The meat would be put in one lb. rolls to be given to non-profit groups that operate food banks.
Fred was told the state now requires hunters to pay for the processing costs as well as donate the meat. Many of the hunters are unwilling to pay for processing. The cost is not cheap.
The staff at Hunters for the Hungry is upset with this new rule as are the food banks that won’t get the meat. As a result, food pantries and soup kitchens across the state have a big problem this year they can do nothing about.
After all, as Fred says, if the goal of private enterprise is to make a profit, and it is, then the goal of government is to take care of people. And in many states, government does a good job of doing just that.
Balancing the budget is important but cuts should not be made, Fred says, to programs that help those already down on their luck.
Fred and others would like to know how the money allegedly saved by the governor’s action is being used. Roads in the state are still crumbling, schools are making drastic cuts and those in need remain in need at a basic level—food.
Meanwhile, the staff at Hunters for the Hungry is trying to locate other meat for Fred’s food bank. They know the demand for food is exploding among those with inadequate income.
The missing deer meat means charities all over the state must spend more for food. This money would normally be spent to help pay for utilities, medicine and other necessities for the needy.
Something’s not right with this cut in the budget, Fred says. What’s worse, he adds, the next election is a long way off.
Donal Mahoney
Do You Think We Are Not Tough Enough?
Poets and contests are not a strange mix.
Though, winning or not, emotions play tricks.
We are competitors, really quite buff.
And “fighting” with words, can truly get tough.
We might not be rough or want our knees scuffed.
It might be true, with our hearts on sleeves fluffed
We enter some contests hoping to win.
Waiting with passion competing with friends.
We might not like loss for fear of no fame.
But all the same, it's a glorious game!
How does one vie without wanting to cry?
Fearing a loss when ones bests have been tried.
Emotions and contests played as a sport.
Tensely awaiting the judge's report.
And if one has lost, are emotions chucked?
Do poets think they are down on their luck?
Nay! I say nay! Poets are not all fluff!
We can take rejection; we're tough enough.
Contenders are strong and not powder puffs!
Sock it to us judges, our words your quaff.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
November 24, 2009
Dedicated to Poetrysoup judges who "suffer the agony" of picking winners where there are
so many wonderful poet's entries.
Smugness had finally reached its fruition
as unfairly she would jump to conclusions
folks down on their luck would leave her amused
saying this is the unfortunate path that they choose
till one day she got to walk a mile in their shoes
6-13-18