Long Pittance Poems
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If I had been a governess, I would have been paid.
Maybe a pittance, maybe a penny, maybe in francs or yen.
Who knows?
If I had been a race car driver, I would have been revered
By my pit crew, I would have made them laugh as I left
The others in the dust, as I lapped around, refusing to
Wear my helmet. Varoom! Varoom!
If I had been a princess, I would have been bored, talking
Politely, wearing gloves to tea, learning dreary protocols,
My life not my own, a slave really.
Let me out of here!
But if I had been a pirate, I would have been daring and
Dashing. My crew would have adored me. They would have
Been terrified of my terribleness. I missed my chance.
Dang it!
Who Even Told Her That
We have our priorities. Our lunches. At prissy linen-covered tables.
With the best silverware, and steaks cooked exactly right.
So do not let that woman in. Tell her I am gone on sabbatical.
It is too bad about her child and cancer is awful, but I am busy.
And that steak is waiting with warm hot rolls, and real butter.
We have our preferences. Guns, ammo, and war machines
Bringing in lots of money for constituents who have paid me well.
I cannot wave at them at lunch if I filter their profits into something
As unpopular with them as cancer research.
Maybe we could give a dollar
Or two, but who cares that it is the number one killer of children?
My children are safe. My grandchildren do not have it.
I have lunch
Ready, at a table, ready to be served to my waiting belly.
Tell that woman to go away.
Bringing her child with her is a media trick.
I am not caving on this.
Seven hundred and ten billion to my fat cats,
Zip to cancer research.
Why does she even KNOW that none of the
Pittance we give is going to find out why
cancer is the number one killer of children?
Who told her that?
You bleeding-heart secretaries ought to keep your mouths shut.
My lunch is waiting dhramm it!
O nature there is only your sphere everywhere.......
We here sometimes your thunder and sometimes your murmur.
All of your things you generally offer to human;
morning, afternoon and evening;
God gives us you as boon.
But.......to harm nature people never demure......
When God has made the trees to shade for the people and home for their tiny creature......
then people are there........who started to cut off trees for their convenience.
Hence....... nowadays the fatality aware us to keep this pittance of God wonderfully.
But the stubborn nature of human towards their mother nature will be snatched by the god forever.........
O nature you are our mother.....how much you suffer.
With a roof over your head,
A key to your door
Fire in the grate
Clippie rugs on the floor
The countryside to roam
A dog by his side
A boy may be poor but
He’s still got h!is pride.
Another spring approaches
Weather more and more mild
Memories rush back from
When I was a child
More than fifty years ago
My dad used to say
Nights were drawing out by
A cock stride a day.
A man of the land once of
The shire drawn plough
Earning his weekly pittance
By the sweat of his brow.
A man of his time when
Most of the working nation
Were condemned to poverty
And blatant exploitation
My mam and dad never
Ever had a lot
But seemed so happy
With what little they’d got
And I had a childhood rich
In everything but wealth
Loved and wanted and
Blessed with good health.
Times have changed and today,
Poor materially have much more,
But the bailiff does at times seem
Never far from a worker’s door,
And I never thought I’d see the day
When a worker gave thanks
For the charity donations
From now essential food banks.
Mithering - North England dialect - worrying , complaining, countering
A Star Shines in Alba’s Sky
Star shines above a frosty mountain where sheep in summer grazed,
Bright shining ones gathered in vast numbers to praise,
Snow fell to cover the granite rock and where heroes lay in the ground.
Murdered by those they gave a place round the fire hearth,
Raised a glass in toast to their health warming hearts and stomachs both,
In the dark of night up they arose creeping to lift their muskets long,
Ready tae betray hospitality freely given an murder those innocent souls.
In daurk winter nicht fled tae the hills towards the shepherd o the glen,
Rifles spat fire like lightning flash in a storm,
Swords flashed briefly under moonlichts bricht gaze.
Afore hiding behind passing clouds misty haze.
Oot oan the hills shivering in nichts cauld,
Dying amongst heathers embrace under a moons gaze,
Forgotten they lie brave warriors true an bold.
Stars shine down in a highland glen,
Oan Albas finest forsaken people all for a pittance,
What a price tae pay for being a little late.
Andrew McIntyre..28/12/2020.
It happened back in time, quite a long way,
Back in the day, as they today like to say:
An era when most donations to yeshivas** **Rabbinical academies, often
Didn't require much of a man's pay-- with a preparatory high school
$18, $36, $54 at the most--
If you gave $100, you could really boast...
Annual banquets were different, however,
Promotions for them being quite clever,
Promising 'Full-Page Ads,' 'Silver-Page' and even 'Gold,"
All for a relative pittance, truth be told:
For a $180, $250 or $360 fee
Your good name would be trumpeted constantly,
With great pomp, dignity and high pedigree.
As 'a mere teacher in a yeshiva,' my own ads
Were quite modest: $50 for a quarter-page,
To pen something brief, but sage
About the yeshiva I toiled for out of love, not a wage.
So one year, quite way back in the day,
Imagine my surprise, my happiness, my elation,
Then my CONCERN and my SHOCK!...
...When browsing the banquet adbook journal ad hoc,
Just to see if anyone had penned a kind word about me,
I came upon THREE ADS, "Thanking Mr. Wolf," all paid for in Gold,
For over a thousand dollars! they had been ANONYMOUSLY sold.
The blood drained from my face; I felt faint and quite dizzy.
The room swam in circles, my nerves on edge, in a tizzy.
I looked around in amazement; who might have done it?
I spotted the adbook's creater, the man who had run it.
"Far be it from me to reveal the secret," he intoned.
'I don't deserve such a great honor,' I felt in my bones.
In the days to come, I asked everyone in town,
Yet no one would admit that he had plunked down
$1,080 to sing my praises to the world of the yeshiva,
To pay tribute to me like some big star or great diva.
So I had to give up my crusade as 'Super-Sleuth,'
Had to graciously acknowledge what seemed to be the truth,
That the anonymous parents of one of my students
Had been sincerely thankful that I was teaching their youth.
Black Hills Legacy
In the vaults of the U.S. government
Sits a cache of money gathering interest.
But money cannot buy the hearts of a people
In exchange for land and legacy
For breaking the Laramie Treaty.
The Black Hills have been stripped
Of wealth beyond imagination,
A mere pittance in repayment
For stealing without consequence—
An insult to the Sioux Nation people.
“Return the land to its rightful owners,
Compensate the victims for your crimes of plunder,
And respect their existence, their heritage, and their plight.
Free your children of the shame you have inflicted;
Don’t let greed fester in your hearts any longer.
Now is the time; make the wrong right!”
***
Notes:
1) Laramie Treaty (1868): The Laramie Treaty of 1868 established the “Great Sioux Reservation,” which included ownership of the Black Hills located in present-day South Dakota, U.S.A.
2) Indian Appropriations Act of 1876: The Indian Appropriations Act of 1876 was called “Sell or Starve” by the Sioux. The Act cut off rations for the Sioux until they ceased hostilities and relinquished the Black Hills to the government of the United States.
3) Agreement of 1877: The Agreement of 1877 allowed the U.S. government to officially (and forcefully) take away the Black Hills and relocate the Sioux onto Indian reservations. The lands were then opened to settlement and mining without negotiating with the First Nations people.
There is no record of the transaction of the Sioux selling the land to the United States government.
4) United States v. Sioux Nation of Indians (1980): In 1980, the United States Supreme Court ruled that the Black Hills had been illegally taken and that the Sioux should be compensated with a sum of $105 million for the Black Hills plus an additional $44 million for the land outside the Black Hills.
The Sioux Nation refused the payment and demanded that their lands be returned. They say the land is not for sale.
Did all the world see the brightest star?
Only a handful knew they could follow it.
The Shepherds leaned in, hearkened to angels.
The wise men seeking, followed the leading.
They had to humble themselves to an infant
in a drinking trough of a stable.
They experienced the extraordinary and believed
in the poorest setting, while the high rollers
of Bethlehem danced and played their flutes.
Isn’t it the same today?
He invites eternal light.
Those of the narrow way will follow Him.
Heaven will be quite the opposite
of the pittance beginnings,
for the Lord of all
came to redeem mankind from the fall.
King Jesus on His throne,
the red carpet unrolled
for the royal court —
those who chose the narrow path,
not the wide gate of popularity.
Shouldn’t you receive
the greatest gift of all?
Our time on earth is limited.
To infinity and beyond
is where the true party’s at.
The white light of the pearly gates
beckons - do not wait to yearn for them.
It would be too late by then.
12/14/2021
Matthew 7:13
(Jesus said) “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it.”
Isaiah 35:8
And there will be a highway called the Way of Holiness. The unclean will not travel it--only those who walk in the Way--and fools will not stray onto it.
Upon the horizon darkness loomed
mocking the shadows in my heart
Love was doomed, dismally abused
Emotions bleeding out
Have I succumbed to malaise and died
If there's a faint pulse
I have no notion
of a vortex if one is whirling
There's a windstorm's fury howling
somewhere in the distance,
an angry thunder is roaring back,
mimicking the zephyr's bullied shout
revealing the deviant taunt
lying deep within his black soul
A safe haven have I found
since I've been swept away
into a sanctuary he cannot enter
Emptiness is but a pittance to pay
for a portal into the eye of a storm
Lightning flashes outside my sheltered nook
striking as quickly as words pummeled me
Emotional scars from verbal blows
left me numb, drained, void of feeling
Twisters are not appeased or reconciled
by anyone for the devastation they cause
They refuse to say penance
Slowly, the tempest soothed. Quiet its bellow
Was I to be left naked to eyes that pry
And what of the coward, the spineless fellow
who ridiculed my love with a smirk
Turbulent gusts calmed, ceased blowing
I was fetal tucked on sodden ground
Loneliness reigned in solitude,
tears overflowing beneath closed lids
I was saved by the eye of the storm
but he was never found
I found that profound justice
Heavy had been the albatross of emptiness
that had long strewn itself around me
I suppose he lay somewhere among the debris
Wounds healed from the storm's cleansing
I no longer cower for I have been set free
Clear skies as I rise
Matthew Scott Harris deprived himself
relishing, savoring, and tasting
chromosomal biologic metamorphosis
including wreaking havoc, nixing, and
foregoing heterosexual interpersonal experiences,
thus sparking woeful regret
disallowing, disenabling, and not providing
natural encoded healthy growth
of body, mind, and spirit triage
regarding fluke of universe i.e. me
(since origin of aforementioned species)
took center stage tentatively
bivouacking upon globe.
Much ado about nothing
can be done measure for measure
missing out out love's labour's lost
nevertheless, all's well
doth (did) not end well
concerning (by dickens)
my life and hard times,
which cannot square miserable
with great expectations never attained
courtesy wretched soul,
scratching our feeble existence,
who gives the antagonist and/or protagonist
constituting Les Misérables,
a run (for his) la monnaie,
eeking out hand to mouth subsistence
never livingsocial, nor buzzfeeding
avast set of basic hormonal needs and wants
and/ or acquiring, succoring,
and treasuring pittance
akin to dime a dozen
day late and dollar short paupers,
(whose mere pennies on the dollar earnings,
albeit insufficiently funded legal tender)
while accruing mere stale crumbs
comprising daily bread -
our humble father
who art thou in heaven...
bejesus crust...damn near
impossible mission to guarantee
adequate sense and sensibility
pertaining to mine remaining
complete or partial celestial orbitz
without pride nor prejudice
upending, jeopardizing, or compromising
my fragile ego contemplating Cogito, ergo sum.