Best Generosity 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
A prayer for those
Whose lives are thin
And shelves devoid of
Bread and tin.
A stronger prayer
For those who stand
With more than enough
In every hand.
For in God's Kingdom
Love is King
And generosity
The trendy thing.
There is no lack
Or chance despair.
No deprivation.
No hunger there.
In God's town..
No cupboards bare.
No hungry child.
No shadow there.
In the City of Angels
No fears you'll find
For hope and joy
Are all refined..
..by hands and feet
Of those who love
And serve the one
true God above.
So come on people!
Come and see
What God can do through you.
Through me.
It's Harvest
And in the Autumn glow
The words of truth are:
"Reap" and "sow"
For heaven need not
be a 'distant place'
If we love our neighbour,
At this time.
In this space.
So here's my prayer;
Dear God above..
Open our hearts
Through the power of Your love
And help us to see, every moment we live,
With the eyes of Your generous Spirit.
Teach us kindness.
Teach us to give.
For the path may be narrow
But our hearts can be wide.
Under God's season of plenty..
..and blessing
No-one can hide.
And in closing I ask
That I never walk by.
That I look that God given task
Square in the eye.
Keep me soft in the heart
Never letting it harden.
That the Eden we seek
Is right here in this garden.
Souls, beautiful souls, hidden
They shine lazily in the spotlight
At dusk fall, their luminosity is of hope
And our gauges of distress drop
Hearts, loving hearts, delicate
Filled with love enough for a few more
When broken by the heedless hands
They stoop, behind walls, gathering their patches
People, a caring people, friends
They came as strangers to impact this life
Their generosity is like soundless bells
One hand gives, the other blindfolded
Lights, lazy rights, glow
The light for a symbol of humble beings
Beings everyone prays for
They glow when you need them, and when you don’t
Just as carriers, blessings pass through them
Ungratefulness doesn’t hinder them
Delayed by giving, they would have been rich
I pray, for more into their basket of blessing
Earth has daughters, and you are one peculiar
Clowns at the Abyss
I’m not a communist,
I’m a Democratic Socialist
Cries the independent Elitist
It’s a right to have healthcare
It’s a right to have welfare
Yet, funding for these generous proposals is no-where.
The clown behind the podium is a saint with your resources.
He proposes everyone pay their fair share, but more so by titan economic forces.
He hails we all work hard, or maybe not, assuming he is a party to the class of workhorses.
But the political party leaders are less like workhorses and more like jackasses.
For they too look down on their Animal Farm with tilted looking glasses.
Under their more-equal-than other proposals, in time all resources will be exhausted for the masses.
We have seen in the last century the million on million dead from empty promises given with a kiss.
We witnessed the suffering. Excuse me but was there something I missed?
If we cannot resist repeating our mistakes, like clowns we be, looking up from the bottom of an abyss.
Coveting is not a virtue.
You can vote your way into Socialism,
but you have to shoot your way out.
by Martin Braun
3/2/2020
No goods today
No table spare
Contraction themed
Hole round, not square
Diversion signs
A blocked traverse
A clear sans passage
A please reverse
The flower that
Just won't unfurl
The shell that clamps
Around a pearl
No open heart
No mind that's free
A fist so tight
It's plain to see
We have too much
It may be truth
A shriveled soul
Makes man uncouth
So open, please
Relieve more strife
Hold less, share more
Extend your life
A gesture, simple
Not so grand
Some folks just need
That un-closed hand
So faithful whistle
Cheery song
My gosh, the world needs
Hope this strong
Night fades away swiftly as brother Sun opens his illustrious eyes; how they glow through the puffball clouds, to enliven the day. He blows out breaths that warm Gaia’s aging chill, she is soothed.
Fingers of the Sun
Reaching out to Gaia’s back
Blanket her shoulders.
Gloom shrouded their homestead
no one knocked, just looked instead
Christmas stole their value of pride
curtains were closed, no presents to hide
provisions were spread across the table
most were cans without a label
they sat by the fire, stories were read
prayers of hope before going to bed
the smoke in the chimney seem a little rough
the firebox was low there was just not enough
a woodman saw and smelled the smoke
it was gray and needed a stoke
He filled the wood box with good maple wood
he offered to do whatever he could
he told the folks acts of kindness brings people together
and sharing is for those in need of whatever
the town folk heard the deed of the man
who decided to help the family by lending a hand
the family said “but we are poor on the other side of the tracks”
‘no one wants to face us, they only turn their backs’
the folks gathered and built a bridge over the tracks
paving the way for generosity and whatever it lacks
being kind said the woodsman is from being wise
t’was when the smoke got into my eyes
whorl
of gig,
seasonal
festivity ~
shapely, forested feast,
fairyland of colors.
scarlet, gold, and pumpkin,
reddish-purple notes ~
serenade of
surging gale’s
lavish
spend
9/7/2021
Sponsor: Malabika Choudhury
MERSE - Beauty Of Fall
PS syllable counter used
gig - job usually for specified time
What a doll you've been in this crisis!
I have broken my pubic symphysis
You've propped me with a ladder
You've applied on ass an adder
And brought me a pesky paralysis
Forty-six cents doesn’t seem like much when looking at the vastness of the universe…
It’s the amount of change you might find in your sofa, in your pocket or at the bottom of your purse.
But the other day, behind the counter, selling books in our bookstore…
I realized how forty-six cents can be worth a whole lot more.
It started with a young couple who purchased some books then paid in cash…
(these days a rare event)
They paid with a fifty-dollar bill which meant I owed them forty-six cents.
Pleased with their purchase and filled with a happiness they didn’t try to hide…
“We don’t need the change.” They said. “Pay it forward…let it ride.”
A little while later a young boy walked into the store…with a purposeful, determined look
He placed his purchase on the counter saying with a smile,?“I’ve been saving up to buy this book!”
“Twenty dollars and forty-six cents.” I said and saw the pride within him mount…
as he reached into his pocket and brought his money out.
He un-crumpled on the counter two fives and ten ones…
It was here I saw his face contort…
when he realized he had the twenty dollars…but was forty-six cents short.
I told him about the young couple their generosity and their intent…
then to his twenty dollars…I added their forty-six cents.
He took his book with a smile and a thank you…then he was on his way…
and I hoped that somehow that young couple would know they made that young boys day.
But this story doesn’t end there…in line watching was an older woman from England…
(you know that place across the pond)
who, when she heard the story, was eager to respond.
“I owe you sixteen cents.” I said but with an excitement she couldn’t hide…
“If its okay with you,” she smiled…”I’d like to let it ride.”
I’m not sure where it will end…
this wonderful chain of events….
but I know it began in our bookstore…
and it started with forty-six cents.
As I rounded the bend aka driveway to the school, a precarious-looking something caught my eye.
I thought it was a garbage bag, and could not imagine what it was doing where the crossing guard stays.
He is not here this early, so I turned, and gave it another quick look. It was not a garbage bag.
It was a man, wrapped in a blanket. Hm. This is a grade school entry point. What is he doing here?
At a quarter to seven in the morning? Rumors have circulated about homeless living in the woods.
Woods behind our school, woods that are extensive, and extend from our school to the next school.
That is where my mind immediately traveled. Okay, today is cooler, but not cold. What then?
What happens to this man when the temperatures plummet, and the ice and snow arrives?
Luckily we have a large metal crisscross fence that keeps the children from the woods, but
What about the man, what happens when he gets so cold he cannot stand it? Does he come closer?
Does he sit in the sun, next to our brick building? Does he think about how warm and cozy it is in here?
Does he sit under the trees, dreaming of when he was in school, warm, safe, away from the elements?
One tiny thing, and yet, it has me thinking. I ask another teacher if he is still there when she arrives.
He is gone, but to where? And does he have a coat? Mittens? Food? Is there a tent in the woods?
Do they have a campfire at night? Is there only a lone man, or is there a family? Are there children?
My imagination will not let this go. It is going haywire, and for what reason? Am I hopping the fence?
Am I jumping into the woods? Am I looking for the tent? Am I taking these people home with me?
I have done this kind of thing before, and from experience, I know it almost always ends rather badly.
Hello, Joe, there are people living in the woods. What do you want me to do about it?
I have a dream
you too have a dream
we are all having a dream
that’s why generosity is here.
I see the world
you too see the world
we are all seeing the world
but still generosity is here.
I face the poverty
you too face the poverty
we are all facing the poverty
then keep the generosity here.
Inspired by Hadji Manila Ahalul's Congee Festival.
PC. 14 May 2017. 5:24PM.
#CongeeFestival
Hastily stretched, crackled urgent ocean edge relents
Ashamed attempt to escape rejoins campaign of mass
Furtive dig below propels conspirator spasm, next next
Murders brash bouys, cranky spa champagne embrace
Swum undulations, bare back mermaid's dips resurface
Her furvour ploughs halobiont plenty scape, nourished
Snapped lobster lavishly celebrates bountiful turquoise
Sway gaze brazen by bobbing safe island encouraged
Crill swirl sweeps dripped lips, sun baked rock decreed
Beacon mound majesty painted daily in sea gull exhalt
Coconut snow flakes sparkle on cockle clamour bleed
Wave blown eroding scales slow exhales evaporate salt
Ripe globes ground reaped glug nectar so gluttonous
Fibres hibernate ivory rich liquors tipsy Secret Benefits
Land languish survivor devours sugar shards sumptuous
Wipes moreish mouth aft treasure trove haemorrhages
Fifth May
Finesse Saves
Kindness
Your kindness Lord runs to greet me in generous petals of fragrant compassion floating into my stingy spirit, dances in the abyss of my selfishness, raises up my bankrupt soul, gives light to my nearsighted heart opening veins of sympathy in an avalanche of mercy for hungry children gazing at empty cupboard shelves, for the new Lazarus, shivering in tatters, begging at the city gates for food, feeding a faithful four footed companion on a rope leash first, waiting for a crust of kindness baked in empathy to fall in the doorway of a grocery store – no warm coat or bed only a pillow of cement or a park bench. Your kindness blinds malevolence, deafens insolence, cripples violence in floods of gracious benevolence with tides of charity asking only make a difference with what you have – a can of soup, a piece of fruit, a word born on the tides of charity. Your kindness to me shares the perfume of gratitude softly falling from your tongue beating back vanity and pride so I may chant the living lyric of your loving kindness, open gracious arms, recite a litany of glory in a cup of grace to thirsty pilgrims, poor or comfortable, traveling by my side with open eyes of generosity.
kindness builds love
empathy heals hearts ~
compassion’s cradle
Generosity
Is being kind, a life giver
Comes in many form.