Best Rags Poems
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
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Four centuries stacked like stones,
each year a weight
on the chest of heaven.
Prophets became ash in the wind,
their embers cold,
their parchments brittle.
Then~
not in the temple
where men strained to hear,
not in the desert
where fire once spoke,
but in a backwater hovel,
where livestock chewed their cud.
A gasp.
A shudder.
A mother’s blood on the earth.
And then~
sound.
Not the trumpet blast of Sinai,
not the whirlwind that answered Job,
but the thin, wet wail of newborn lungs,
puncturing the quiet like a knife
through paper.
Omniscience, wrapped in rags,
drew its first shuddering breath.
The angels,
who had bitten their tongues
for four hundred years,
could not contain themselves~
They split the sky with song,
startling shepherds
outside Bethlehem’s gates.
The first cry was a declaration:
Here.
The last would be an absolution:
Done.
Between them~
thirty-three years of footsteps,
of splinters, of bread broken,
of a voice that refused
to go quiet again.
When they tried to silence Him
with nails, with thorns,
the earth itself cracked open
and roared No~
because eternity,
once loosed,
does not return to the tomb.
You took this man from rags to riches..When you spent all
Heaven had to spare.' Your Sons blood bought me real redemption..Oh Father how you truly care.'
Now I'll no longer be that beg-gar.' You've made my golden
Dreams come true..' For He took my rags and gave back
Riches, now my destiny is up to you.'
My clothes may still be torn and tattered..Yet in my heart I
Hold the King.' Although my pockets may be empty..
His Love is all... That really matters.' Its ev-ry-thing!
Repeat on this stanza.'
He opened His arms on that cross
though it hurt sore.' He
Offered me treasure of life in great store.' He went through
Grim death
And kicked in hells dark doors' Now I'll hold Him and
Kiss Him.' And keep Him for mine evermore.!!
You took this man from rags to riches, you spent all heaven
Had to spare.' Your Sons Love bought me real redemption
Oh Father how you truly care.'
Now I'm forever not that beg-gar..You've made my golden
Dreams come true.' For He took my rags; and gave back riches, now my destiny is up to You..) End..'
Scarecrows dressed in rags
As haunted human beings
Fall down to the ground
Slain without swords they are
Though the airy wordly air
They inhale yet in graceless lack
Behold in the colony of wretchedness
Naked children begging alms
From brothers-not brothers
See as flies soar above sores
On their broken soles pus to lick
From the leaking flesh of starving souls
Don't their ribs tell the origin of bones?
Aren't worms molesting their intestines?
Don't they a place share in the supreme likeness?
Deserted cold gutter-side is their safe haven at night
And without meals they exit in multiple batches
To account for the trilemma of their ragged souls
Looking around at others
Pure envy is what i see,
They have beautiful things
For its hand downs for me.
I want a new career
But what am i to do,
I have no real experience
At least compaired to you.
My clothes have no style
I need to win the lottery,
Oh what i could do then
With all that much money.
After work I'll buy a ticket
I go right past the store,
To my surprise I won a grand
Rags to Riches not wanting more.
A pauper begs at the town gate
and sets, each day, a date with fate.
He harbours dreams where riches flow
but morning finds him on skid row.
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Killing With an Epigram Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Margarita Lillico
Placed 2nd
28th April, 2022
On a cold and grey Mississippi morn
a poor little baby boy was born
in the ghetto
His mama and daddy were just so poor
no money to feed and clothe one more
and his mama cried
Afraid her babe would get cold in a storm
she made a quilt of rags just to keep him warm
and her baby smiled
Her boy gave the world some rock n roll songs
was drafted in the war to fight the Vietcong
and his mama died
He couldn't stay around though he really tried
and everybody cried the day that Elvis died
alone at Graceland
His quilt of rags was found in an old oak chest
a week after he died and was laid to rest
and his daddy cried
His daddy kept the quilt of his only firstborn
till he met up with his family on a cold grey morn
where the angels fly
A million bucks will buy the quilt his mama made
that Elvis used so long until the ends were frayed
and the angels cry
For Auction Contest
The Worlds human snakes have raised the stakes,
From table scraps to pies and cakes.
~Princefreakasso
(Artist and Poet)
From Riches to Rags
Most human beings are living like ghosts,
Not really knowing what the future holds.
Whilst we wash in the slime,
In our own cardboard homes.
There is a building, that is your home.
Once picture perfect; now in ruins after a cyclone.
Now like those you once looked down upon,
From your self appointed pedestal;
You too have become what you used to call a bum.
But now you must call them what they are;
A friend, an enemy, a homeless dying drunk,
Sleeping in a burnt out car.
In need of shelter; just as you are.
But the tramp that gave you shelter;
Shows charity starts at home.
For when the streets become your home
And you have lived that way for many years;
You will look at people in their suits
And recall once hearing all the cheers.
Success was such an easy thing to attain;
But compassion for your fellow man, has become your new aim.
For when you have lost all your worldly possessions
And you have realized your working life, is simply a profession.
Then maybe you will see clearly, find some sort of consolation;
Once you have regrouped and once more risen.
You have to begin your life, all over again.
But the partner standing by you, is in the same situation.
Then three years down the line,
As you sit there upon your throne;
You remember the bad old days have now come and gone.
But you are no longer a snob;
Now you no longer live for your job.
Now you no longer choose to live alone;
You can now open up to a fellow human being and live life as one.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
'Twas Christmas when Cinder’s went to the ball
In the most romantic season of all
She looked so pretty
A prince so dishy
Danced each dance with her, till she heard her call.
The call came when the clock struck at midnight
Cinder's ran quickly as she could, in fright
Before her best dress
Became repossessed
As her fairy godmother said it might.
It so happened she lost one glass slipper
That made poor Cinder's heart take a dipper
All know the glory
Of Cinder's story
Prince Charming wed her, it’s out on twitter.
He looked at grandma in shock and said,
“What are those rags sticking out of your head?”
“I needed curls, “ she replied.
“No money, hot rollers died –”
Optimistic, hair curled on rags instead.
”Negative words can create a negative image of self; embrace negativity and let it be fuel to your inner positivity, to see self in a positive light.”
Quote _by Poet
For many years I struggled to see my self-worth,
Thought I was a useless piece of discarded trash.
My low opinion of self, made me question my birth.
I longed for my dark days to zoom by in a flash.
I was made fun of when I attended grade school.
I believed every negative thing that was said;
My sad life was so overwhelming and cruel,
I spent most of my days in my full-sized bunk bed.
As time went by, feelings for self-started to shift,
I started to entertain ” liking” who I was,
Soon positivity came, it was such a gift.
My attitude started to change without applause.
No longer did I see unwanted filthy rags.
I saw my worth and value in my brokenness,
Now I view negative energy as red flags,
Folks talk about me these days, for outspokenness.
For many years I struggled to see my self-worth,
I was made fun of when I attended grade school.
As time went by, feelings for self-started to shift,
No longer did I see unwanted filthy rags.
Contest: My Created Form
Sponsor: Constance La France
11/29/2020
Why is he roaming the streets begging bread?
He used to have a good head. What did he do
Wrong he used to be healthy, wealthy, and strong,
All the girls were running him down, now he is
begging for money all over town.
He never helped a soul when his pocket was full
Of gold, he even turned his back on his family
Treating them like an enemy. Now he is depending
On them for help, before he did not care how they felt.
I hope he gets back on his feet, leave the life on the
Streets.