Poverty Poems | Examples of Poverty Poetry

In the dog days of summer, the kids discover a decrepit house and the old man (Rentaro Mikuni) who lives there alone. — Zac Ntim, Deadline, 4 Feb. 2025 He was an old decrepit man, was he not? His clothes tattered; his trousers held by a knot. Few rooms: a chair, a table and rotten cot. He lived in...

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mauve drapes hang fondly colouring her bandy shack like lavish gift bows...

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There was a man I knew— bitten by ignorance’s venom. All his life, he groped through shadows, searching for cures in the dark— but he found none, until he bit the dust. One day, while spring still painted the world, his sun just beginning to rise, and the stream sparkled...

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Less food, less warmth, less time to rest— less light in long nights, less room to dream, less comfort, less voice, less chance to speak— but never less pride. You carry invisible loads, heavy as stone, while the world keeps asking for more....

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hiku van Gogh 2 borinage b r e a t h e s on pot a ...

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A face, like sundown leaning on rusted steel— boasting through storms he promised to end. Lies? They cracked like paint in late May heat. But some talkin’ copperheads still call the tariffs gold. Some watched. We all waited... sunburned by belief. Color My Mood May 25, 2025 Nette Onclaud Note: Grateful for a 1st place finish in your Color My Mood Contest....

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Your timing, O God, is flawless, they say, Mercy spills from Your eternal edge. I cling to that truth, yearning for solace, Yet it slips as I bleed through the years. Woes swarm like static, sharp with insult, Words that cut, leaving a thousand wounds. Will You, my Maker, cradle me close, When tears and fragments are all I am? If pain is...

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My pen is mourning the agonies and the sufferings Of my people, who are drowning in the sea of misery. My keyboard' strokes are shadowing the slow rhythms Of the wandering beggar, who's lost in the sanctuary. My voice denounces the filthy cholera and the injustices, Which are punishing the weakest souls of the valley. A tiny oligarchy is meagerly being...

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O! Same place, same time morning chill and cracks of sun curled in dark doorway her shape, her pulse same line Same doorway she calls her home ‘tween supplements west and bath bombs east colours waft and mingle, stenches wrap early morning baking under all Breathing rasping cocoon of red cloth silent breaths thru curved teeth flicking thoughts, cloudlike slip ear to ear passing dreams, rapid cut,...

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there's little sunshine these days, and despair blows like a cold wind. It rains, and rains, and rains. state of affairs go...

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Whenever beliefs are placed above any worthless things they affirm the essence of true ideals, that sparked visions in people's minds. Hold on those beliefs and assert feelings, if brave men stand by them and resist the menacing shouts of despairing ideas; in such a brutal way: shouldn't we react? Beliefs can express liberalism or conservatism, they both define a character ready comfirm it in...

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lazy bones, bound in poverty’s grip in a garden, where hesitation weeds grow~ filled with s t r a n g l e d d e l i c a c i e s… a recipe of wisdom, never tasted couched like a fly in an endless stupor… abandoned in...

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I have one memory of my father Who was not my dad There was a father, he left. There was no dad. There were men who tried to be. There were men who could’ve tried to be. There were, perhaps, men who might’ve tried to be. These efforts, if they existed, went unnoticed by me. Like I, by my father. I found out more than...

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famished it didn’t seem quite right the sign over his left shoulder said ‘fine arts & framing’ while his unframed cardboard read ‘famished’ his empty cup told the story and one man named ‘simon’ felt that he was a disciple of jesus before he became peter when jesus said “on this rock i will build my church.” and now, peter…or perhaps simon slept and the ‘rock’ upon...

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"Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first." - quote by Mark Twain ----------------------------------------------------------- Being poor is not romantic Hunger has no eyes, no vision Soul boils without, within, unfelt Neglected health devaluates Dignity, respect takes back seats Pity is a sharp stab in gut Working up to life, to find...

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