Best Workhouse Poems

Children of darkness do not play under the Bluebird sky
nor do they feel the sunshine of a summer's morning
on little backs and faces..
instead they toil...

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It’s Christmas day in the workhouse
Just another grey day to endure
We are being treated to pot noodle
So Oliver won’t be asking for more...

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It’s Christmas day in the workhouse
Just another grey day to endure
We have been promised nouvelle cuisine
So Oliver will be asking for more...

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Born into a life of poverty crime and squalor
where hunger and cold winds bite
and disease is rife
and it was a daily battle to stay alive
and...

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The Man from Darwen

Came there a man from Darwen,
In the heart of the Lancashire Hills,
A Town of industrial landscape,
Coal Mines and large Cotton Mills.
These times...

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I'm in charge here 
I am your chieftain.....your Lord and Master              ...

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I was raised      in a prison of darkness
along walls of cement      have I groped
the hearts...

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George is in his eighties and he’s seen it all before
He was born in the depression and was wounded in the war
He hadn’t been a...

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An orphaned Victorian child
On the streets,running wild
Fated to share a workhouse cot
Asked for a second helping from the pot-
A life of crime becoming his lot....

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Victorian Poverty In London.
.
Slumming it in adverse poverty
In Victorian London’s  
Limehouse White Chapel and Bethnal Green 
Dingy doss houses packed to the brim
Narrow dirty...

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I was raised      in a prison of darkness
along walls of cement      have I groped
the hearts...

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Work is the twin of rest; 
Work represses me from tasting the sugar of the day, 
Represses me from witnessing the launch of the moon,
Represses...

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Brittle and broken, the eucalyptus snaps loudest.
Pulverized by constant wear
of boots on dusty trails.
Debris of lifeless memories
detached from vital source,
scattered broken on apathetic earth,
pummeled by...

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It's hard to stay focused

If your mind is never still

You'll never find your inner peace

If you don't meditate on your will

The will to practice with...

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Oh, don’t flatter me with presents from the Ghost of Christmas Past. 
Tis the season for nostalgia, but those feelings never last. 
It’s a gift-wrapped...

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