Best Poverty Poems
I turn my head, and there she is once more
in her disheveled, worn, and tattered dress,
one pew behind me near the exit door-
she sits head bowed- an image of distress.
Two weeks now on a Sunday, she is there-
the same pew in the church, the same old clothes.
She shows forlornness that makes me aware
her life is sadly filled with countless woes.
This time, she lifts her head and looks at me,
as tears swell in her eyes and down her cheek.
My heart is broken by the hurt I see
within her wanting eyes so dark and meek.
I gaze into her face and see her fears.
With a slight twinkle in her sullen eyes
and tiny smile, she wipes her falling tears
away; but still, I hear the painful cries
that echo from her heart so silently-
her weakened body, anguished mind, and soul.
I wonder what in life could possibly
have caused her to now suffer such a toll.
And I surmise that homeless she must be.
But still, some faith has brought her to this spot
where healing strength from God might possibly
renew her spirit- when her life cannot.
The mass soon ends, and I arise and turn-
so now, in front of her, I sadly stand.
She grasps my hand and says, “God Bless, you earn
His blessings- for a heart that understands."
November 16, 2014
You're worthy of love
I see the scars, you're hiding deep within
they're not visible, upon your skin
you don't even know, how you could begin
to feel worthy of love...
You've been floating away, in time and space
your pain is written, all over your face
your dignity left you, without a trace
and you don't feel worthy of love
Bridge 1
I've seen so many people, just like you
they never seem to make a fuss
the only colors you know, are black and blue
and now it's hard for you to trust
The only friends you had, have long since died
you couldn't save them all, even if you tried
now you bottle up all, your feelings inside
you don't feel worthy of love
Bridge 2
I know to you living, is not worthwhile
but I can prove that you're wrong
I know it hurts to even try to smile
cause you forgot where you belong
Some may say, that you're a little high strung
you've shed too many tears, for someone so young
don't you know that you're life has just begun
and that you're worthy of love...
oh yes you're worthy of love
you are so worthy of love
You've forgotten that, you too have worth
you're the only you, on this planet earth
just ask the loving ones, who caused your birth
they'll say...you're worthy of love
indeed you're worthy of love
welcome home my dear!
you are so worthy of love!
April 21,2017
John Derek Hamilton
You see us everywhere you go
Every corner of your street house our offspring
Every bridge in your city has become our refugee camp
We are the people you call peasant
We are the peasants with pleasant rags
You see us at the entrance of your estates
You see us at the gate of your beautiful companies
In search of what our mouth will feed on next
We are the peasants with pleasant rags
Our gradually fading skin
Now a sweet companion to the midnight moon and afternoon sun
We are the ones without homes
We are the peasants with pleasant rags
When bridges become forbidden by the law
We opt for uncompleted buildings
A few of us get lucky when it rains
And shield themselves under cars
We are the peasants with pleasant rags
We are the ones that beg for the remnant from your table
We are the ones life has just not been fair to
We are the peasants with pleasant rags
We are the ones that get poorer while you get richer
We are the ones that scramble for the leftover at your feast
We are the ones that fight for your used clothes
We are the peasants with pleasant rags
Soul progress
back field in motion
The guff
Chose, chose, live grow leave! GO!
Leapt from heaven's gold
Jump started into a human mold
White clapboard poverty with tiger lily blooms,
blueberry rake poverty woolen looms.
Riffs of Emerson, Whitman, Longfellow dawns,
mothers’ hazel eyes, father Davidesque form,
chosen to drive twixt a Jew and a screw.
Magnet of lunacy...
Tumbled like an agate into the stream of life
part of the dream lesson
scream lesson
Abuser of power, one who had once roared,
Eve shaped now, weak and mewling
between the weeds of woe.
Care taken by lovers torn.
Watched over by pedophile uncles.
Befriended by lewd Father of sons.
Adult child, searching amongst the Word
for the Word is God and GOD …
There are so many words
Root ripped scenes from beauty to horror
Shiksa* taunts seep in with the smell of borsch.
A pumpkinseed amongst the pricks of Brooklyn
A wild rose planted in the asphalt soil
Doo-wop ditty
Jew’s bop to a Dago harmony,
bagels, bialys and the French twisted strands
of great grandma’s hair.
Clipped, stripped of family shoved whole
into yet another new mold.
True believers, ah yes, fanatics all.
The struggle to survive whole healthy
dipped in, dripped in, a bath of acid and thorazine.
Polish priests pedal platitudes to the sisters of St. Joseph
behind the gilded glory of the Church.
Raped by trust and betrayed by lovers,
a rose married to a prickles thorn,
so empathy is gained, and a healer born.
Metal must be formed in a crucible of fire
A healer can not be born without tasting the pyre.
Grit in her eyes beaming fortitude of vibes
Powers her dash from one end to the other
Handing out drinks: brandy, whiskey, beer;
Serving high rollers and surly poor-souls
Where lights are flashing as machines jingle
When luck adjudicates winners and losers.
Watch her essence of fiery determination
Fueling her steps, gathering her strength,
As she churns numbers quickly in her head:
Grocery, rent, money for mother’s meds;
And some she’ll spare for her father today.
Hurriedly she sprints when her shift ends
Examining faces torn by ills, unwell, hapless
Under the bridge, by the train station,
Recalling childhood’s happier days within
Sound of his soft voice, calling her princess.
Abruptly she freezes, recollecting the scene,
Standing like a milestone on edge of the street,
Lips quivering, eyes tearing, pausing to forgive him
For abandoning them in a reckless charade
When suddenly a child became a parent…
So much about living she has learned since,
But not much about how to bury the dead.
May 11, 2020
HM: Brian's Select 8 Contest
Poverty and hunger are bedfellows.~ The Poet~
Alluring, pleading
Yet it will burn,
Pangs of hunger
Immanent yearn.
Desperate child
So forlorn
For the poverty
To which she was born.
Minds meant to be astute,
Mental distortion
So destitute.
The steaming broth
Humbly offered,
No wrath for their plight
No relief in sight
The bounty so meager
The child so eager
The brushstrokes in blue
Setting the scene
A feeling to subdue,
With empathy pains
The artist explains.
She surges forward, hands raised.
Using hues to convey the mood.
Begging for some food.
Depicting the sign of the time.
It’s far from fine.
This is what the wicked are like— always free of care, they go on amassing wealth. Surely in vain I have kept my heart pure and have washed my hands in innocence ~ Psalm 73:12-13
A wise man long ago bemoaned the thought
that those who seek the paths of righteousness
so often struggle mightily. Their lot
seems only to be wreathed in hopelessness.
Meanwhile, the wicked reap rich dividends
while disregarding others' poverty -
they'll use whatever means may suit their ends,
neglecting justice, love, humility.
Believers know "these three remain" to guide
up peaks appearing insurmountable:
Faith is that trust in Him who walks beside;
Hope is that blessed wealth uncountable;
and Love, which guides us to eternity -
For "God is love", the greatest of the three.
So many times we see someone in need
Most walk by while they piteously plead
Plead for help that may not come
Plead for love because they have none
So many people just don't take the time
To support their fellow man
Like it's too much to be kind
Too much to give a helping hand
To someone who needs it, please take a stand
Stand up for the ones who cannot speak for themselves
Stand up for those who live their lives in hell
They need your help, you may be the one
That saves their life, think of your son
If he were in need and you not around
Would you want others to laugh at his frowns
To see him in need and lift not a hand
To help him up out of no man's land
You'd want strangers to aid him, I know that's true
But don't forget help can also come from you
We are all in the position to assist
I know you know that, but here's the twist
In helping others we also help ourselves
And that is a great reason in and of itself
It feels wonderful to help those in need
To sleep soundly knowing you did a good deed
So please when you see someone who has not a thing
Take time to help, it will make your heart sing
And as the hills yonder
Turned red from sunset rays
As darkness engulfed the valley
And the sweet sounds of birds
Rent the cool evening air
Our cows and sheep and goats
Hurried down the footpath
As though they were late
To a gathering of clans
Or to one of their own
And we the happy herds' boys
Turned our ravenous thoughts
To bananas yams and milk
And all available munch-able stuff
To calm our restless tummies
And as the evening metamorphosed into night
And the stars of the sky reclaimed their might
We the famished children of the valleys
Approached the fireside with widening eyes
As the roughshod soldiers laid claim to all
And shot in the air to frighten us all.
And so we watched with pangs of hunger
Training our wrath and rancor and dismay
To other sons and daughters of Africa
Who for reasons best known to them
Or known only to their heartless handlers
Proclaimed themselves ‘defenders of our freedom.’
Voila! Children of the valleys of Africa
And of the cities and slums of Africa
You who gather in the evening breeze
After torrid days in the fields and streets
Only to return to a darkening sky
Sans food sans wear sans light. Voila!
If wealth is now your blessing,
what then was the prayer?
Avarice, its goal possessing,
yet in penury, despair.
I see them often in the store
eyes ahead, regard for none.
Against the classes, tacit war—
Modus Operandi: shun.
Vaunted compounds they do flout—
absent grasp of their chagrin—
for walls and gates that keep us out
are prisons trapping them within.
They say those vexed by paucity,
should flee to foreign air,
for wages here of poverty
would make them wealthy there.
Thus, high above the world they scan—
well hidden from our sight—
discounting what the common man
is suffering tonight.
1st Place: Sing to Me Contest
Prompted by the remark made on this topic by fashion company Nicole Miller’s
CEO Bud Konheim. Thanks to Roy Jerden for his thoughtful help on the fifth stanza, allowing for much greater impact.
With a special nod to the song Royals by Lorde, which has a very compatible message.
The hideous and the humble
Blood peppers falling snow
As world hurtles to the tipping point
Life chokes on ignited air
Wrenching love from hungry mouths
Stars fall without sound
Some weep helpless, day through night
Ever wondering how
Never knowing why ...
In the stillness of my room I lay in bed
arms snugged tightly around my pillow
turned side-ways facing moon and light
But it is not the burnt orange moon
but glowing embers in his eyes that warm my vacant night.
Tonight ,I see him just like on other nights
He is the vision in my last waking thought
He breathes within every breeze in my sleep
He rests right beside me holding my hand and dreams.
Tonight ,I recall his soft whisper in yesterdays'path
Sweet -nothings in my ear touched soft-spots of my heart.
I find him in mountains bathing in fresh rain
riding on horses in memory lane.
I watch him get closer calling out my name
Its there when I kissed him , then ran far away.
I see him on earlier days where He has found me
It was love at first sight and instant chemistry .
It was deep affection for a blue collar guy
with dirt on his shirt and an amorous smile.
I smelled poverty all over him ,and on his soaked fuel rag.
Smelled the soap on his skin , and books in his bag.
He passed one to me ,and said it is mine
I made him a pledge that I'd scribble a line.
One line followed others in chapters of time
Chapters of star spumes, sunrise , and sky
Chapters of novels about a blue collar guy.
Inspired by a book I read in my early teens .called 'Mysterious Mountain Man'
The wind blows softly over the lonely,
The suffering think of themselves only.
A world of chaos, racism, and turmoil,
Utmost egomanias spoil our toil.
An old man groans, no decent place to live,
Are there relatives? No comfort to give?
Blow softly oh lonely wind, they care not,
They are comfortable, and all forgot.
Somewhere a child is crying his heart out,
Can anyone guess what it's all about?
Is the child hungry, lost, or cast aside?
Much abused, ill-treated, or love denied?
There are millions of cries heard on the wind,
Alas no one bothers: is man unkind?
God knows at times it don’t all come up Roses
And most days, these days life don’t work at all
Each road I choose keeps leading me to nowhere
But You’ve been there, each time I trip and fall
I’ve tread your Trail of Tears
I hear You Crying
And Jesus knows, I’m failing but I try…
It used to feel so easy, with You watching
But maybe You’ve been busy, times are tough
A thousand Souls a year, I hear are passing
A thousand Souls, who’ve just had had enough
They tread Your Trail of Tears
They heard You crying
And Jesus seen them failing, but they tried…
It’s faith in You, that keeps my heart still beating
And all I’ve come to love along the way
I’ve loved more than I’ve ever dreamed of loving
But sometimes You just feel so far away
I’ve tread Your Trail of Tears
I hear You crying
And Jesus knows, I’m failing, but I try…
Please rest the saddened lonely ones who’ve fallen
Their Spirits, undeserving of the blame
It may be that they heard Your sweet voice calling
Though the burden it was never theirs to claim
You’ve seen their Trail of Tears
You heard them crying
And Jesus knows, they failed Lord, but they tried…
And if tomorrow finds me lost and lonely
Screaming at this world to understand
It’s man that needs to help his ailing brother
It’s man that needs to hold his brothers hand
To tread your Trail of Tears
To hear you crying
And even though we’re failing, we’ll have tried…
It is now that time of year again when people start feeling festive
Kids write lists of pricey toys making parents feel apprehensive
Computer games and the latest phones, usually top their list
Enticing adverts on tea time television, make it harder to resist.
With rising costs many people, are struggling to make ends meet
Pricey toys parents would love to buy, but they still have to eat !
How do you explain to your kids about food banks and poverty?
In the background loan sharks lurk, rubbing their hands with glee.
Many succumb and take out loans getting heavily into debt
They purchase goods on the never- never until payments are met
All of this for just one day in the year, then months of misery
Then they try to keep the wolf from the door but fear insolvency.
So, try and explain to your kids that things may be different this year
And you don't have to be a millionaire to spread some joy and cheer
There are many ways to show your love and it won't cost you a dime
Be that shining light every day of the year and not just Christmas time.
But spare a thought for the less fortunate who are a lot worse off than you
The homeless, those caught up in wars, sadly there's nothing you can do
And as you sit down this Christmas day with your children's faces aglow
You might not realise this fact right now but you are richer than you know.
Because your family mean everything to you, they bring you so much cheer
They are more precious than silver or gold also friends you hold most dear
But remember this you're not on your own and we're all in this together
Try and look on the bright side of life and remember things will get better.