Best Poor Man Poems
By Ezar
As snow flakes fall to cover the side walk my people get tired of the side talk
Work for me You won't be financially but at least you put a couple gifts under the tree
At least you can get your car fixed while I pull off in a new mercades
Oh ya make sure you fill out the paperwork for welfare
I will have my secretary sign it while I set by my pool in Bellaire
Have you ever been there you can smell the sweetness of success in the air
How is Jamal doing
I almost cried when I heard someone was at his school shooting
Thank goodness my son goes to the same school as the son of Patrick Ewing
You can stay in my guest house if you thinking about moving
Rent free that's the least I can do for someone who works for me
I was going to stop by but that part of town is too rough for me
I wanted you to meet my daughter she just got her masters degree
So she can take over the business after me
You know how important it is to leave a legacy
What collage is Jamal going to or is he still going to the army
I hear they pay for college tuition
I told my son its not worth it when your arms and legs missing
But I understand Jamal got to do what he got to do
Giving Jamals hand he got to move how he has to move
Well I have to go watch for the stocks on the news
See you on Monday I hope your situation improves Peace
The rich man had one reason to smile,
The poor man only had a million...
We never thought she'd find the right man
Find a more fickle bride if you can..
Poor man hasn't a chance
She's in charge of romance
He stepped into the fire from the pan
Written in haste for the
"Cousins Wedding" contest...
my appologies...lol
The poor man on the street
With threadbare dress and blistered feet
'Tis his slogan, he howls,
"I feel hungry, my stomach growls."
The rich man sits to eat
With silken dress and stockinged feet
Tells after his plateful,
"I'm not hungry, my stomach's full."
The poor man sits and begs
For some leftover food and dregs
In his poor broken bowls,
"I feel hungry, my stomach growls."
The rich man's enjoying,
He's had his three course meal full swing,
Says, "I've had plentiful,
I'm not hungry, my stomach's full."
He'll never understand
(He's not hungry, his stomach's crammed)
Why that poor weak man yowls,
"I feel hungry, my stomach growls."
---------------
19.11.16
When would the vegetables in my farmland grow?
Others have harvested theirs but mine is yet
To germinate after many month of impatient wait
Take the children away and share them among my brethren
I have no money to train them but I can impregnate women
As many times as they want it am a man
Here I would sit and would not journey to the mountains
My life is too precious to me to suffer in vain when others would work
And then I eat without laboring among them in the farm
Where are they going this early morning?
My legs have developed the mind of their own
I can’t risk taken that bold step of faith
My life would be better soon as I live
It is well with my soul at home.
Come fear and dwell in my abode
Come weakness and entangle my legs
I can’t take risk unnecessarily to the mountains
The governments are bad to the core
The economy is not favourable to me
How would I move forward when I am not like them?
They are better than me in every thing they do
The rich men had stolen all the money
Poor I am without bread to eat
Commoners are voiceless and I can’t express my self
I would remain here until I die in penury
Perhaps my potential shall be useful in the graveyard
What should I think of while I am poor?
I didn’t go to school, I won’t make it
My children shall build the houses in my compound
I am too old to work
Can I make it without a platform?
The governments are the rogues in the country
Why was I born without money and wealth?
Twenty four hours is too small for me to work
The lizards in my house are for decoration
I would sleep all day hustling don’t pay
Soon I would rule the country and steal their funds
Make the bed for me I want to sleep
Posterity would not count on me
Why should I work day and night when
They all sit at home and steal money with pen?
I won’t work but I shall be rich
Advice are meant for the fools
The poor man crossing
Got hit by a long limo.
"So close," said the tree.
Today this poor man
Begs you once again,
For one more tragedy,
For the sake of his pen.
It has been an age
Since I have drunk of sorrow,
Stir tears into pain,
Make it twice as fierce.
This blank sheet of paper
Watches me silently,
A caravan of poems
Is lost in a desert of words.
I want to walk
With the ache of the thorn in my foot,
Whatever be the distance, my friend,
From sorrow to the grave.
Even pain has turned its back upon me.
Come back! says Prabh,
You have been my tale
For a long, long time!
If you had to live
the way I do,
then you too would
feel sad and blue.
To have so little good
and so much bad,
would leave absolutely anyone
feeling down and sad.
If you had to live my life,
even for just one day,
I'd understand if you turned to God
and got down on your knees to pray.
I can tell you how it is
and you'll nod in sympathy
but not until you've lived this way....
Will you understand how it is for me.
If I could make you live my life
and give you what I've got,
you would spend your days rejoicing
and all your misery forgot.
If I could make you
have as much as I do,
you'd grin from ear to ear
all day through.
If you could live my life
even for just one day,
You'd be thanking God,
for blessing you this way.
I could tell you how it is
to live with such wealth
but you'd never understand
until you've lived it for yourself.
H
Poor Man On A Bike
There is a viral photo of an Indian/Bangladeshi on a bike...
With 5 little children and his bedraggled suffering wife....
They all are seated on the bike, one kid seated up on his neck...
Another was sandwiched between him and his wife seated behind.....
Another kid was seated precariously on the handlebar of the bike...
One child was seated in the front basket to sandwich his kid brother against the father...
You and I, we see a poor man on a motorbike..
We shake our heads and wondered inwardly how they survive....
For the poor man, his children are his wealth....
With blessings from God above, he will be alright...
Yes, for the present he suffers to provide...
But over the passage of time, his many children will prove him right...
The poor man knows, it is a challenge to provide for his large family...
But when they are grown, they are priceless assets he owns...
For the poor man and his wife, his children are God given assets....
His duty is not to moan and groan why, his is to provide and survive....
Heavens on earth comes later when all his kids are grown...
For the present, he is just another Poor Man On A Bike....
Hohoho....
She tinkers change someone left on the table
waiting for brunch at the Bluebonnet Bistro,
a hole in the wall with thick on the windows.
Lost deep to thought, this rock ‘n roll liberal
in her mid-twenties and sage satin stole,
pockets a penny that weighs down the satchel
strapped to her shoulder and swung under table,
asway just above cherry red laced stilettos.
From a corner booth table, a sitting man stares
an impertinent stare at her pendulum satchel
and long dangled legs that sway to a torso
wrapped tight in proof of a Wolf Parade show
back in twenty fourteen - unable to go
back down below where he yearns to obey
all known from each of each one of her toes.
12/20/2018
A poem about the diminishing return of memories as they're reduced and bid bare by time using an abbreviated variation of the sestina form.
Poor man on the metro
Nobody knows what he's going through
Poor man on the metro
He's dealing with the same *****as you
Poor man on the metro
All he's asking for is change
Poor man on the metro
So why do you look at him strange
Poor man on the metro
I put a dollar in his cup
Poor man on the metro
He looked as me if that was not enough
Poor man on the metro
****, I'm poor too
Poor man on the metro
I'm a bum just like you
Poor man on the metro
Here's a $20 bill
Poor man on the metro
Still shooting looks that could kill
Poor man on the metro
Get the **** away
Poor man on the metro
Said well **** you too than lady
Poor man on the metro
I can't take this anymore
Poor man on the metro
Dead at the front steps of my door
Poor man on the metro
Was just trying to keep warm
Poor man on the metro
Was poor a little too long.
Rich Man, Poor Man,
Beggar Man, Thief.
A Soldier, Sailor,
And a Tinkering Taylor.
All shelter me
From this intolerable grief.
No one cares if a poor man is wise,
Though it's the reason that most are alive.
No one knows when a poor man dies
If his memorial does not survive.
SONG OF A POOR MAN 2
Give me a chair
And Let me sit in your midst
And praise poverty and want
The Face of a poor man
Stays all crumpled up
By Reason of the hunger and thirst
Which are in his stomach........
Tell my neighbours to Work not me
My bones are weary of The pains
My children, relax at home and feast
Every good thing must surely come
Give me mat to lie
I work no more like an elephant
But sit and Wait for the food to Come
I was not made to kill my self but to
Wait on the lucky green side Of the world
Where food must come to my table
I will fold my hands and watch
I am too old to toll and labour
Work is for the youths
My children is where my hope lies
The Poor Man
The Savior came a walking down a long and dusty road
when a poor man He saw walking alone
He said to the man
“Follow Me My son, and I will show you the way to My home”.
The man said to him in complete amazement
“I have no money sir, how can I repay this great loan”?
The Savior answered in such a warm reply
“Don’t worry My son; I want to make you My own.
The Savior placed a ring on his hand
and His own robe He placed on his back
and then ordered sandals for his feet
and bread and lamb for him to eat because the man so much did lack.
This poor man started to cry and the he said
“No one ever wanted me, why sir, have you done this marvelous thing”?
but then added with a grateful heart
“I will praise Your name throughout eternity”!
It is the poor of this world
God chooses to share such dynamic faith with them
and smiles upon them tenderly
when such love they return back to Him.
Written by: Marilyn S. Jennings
1994