Poverty Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Premium Member Reflections of my childhood days SK

Whispers as I hurriedly pass them by.
Whispers that could really make me cry.

Those whispers filled my head with doubt.
I didn’t realize what being poor was all about.

Whispers about the clothes that I wore.
Whispers as if it was a crime to be poor.

Rumors were rife in the school yard.
Those whispers really did make life hard.

Invited to parties, I didn’t want to go.
All snickering. Did they think I didn’t know?

I knew bringing a gift of a potted plant wasn’t right.
Their whispers didn’t even wait till I was out of sight.

Whispers continued when I was a young teen.
The rumors got worse, the whispers were mean.

Slowly but surely, I overcame their sneers.
Learning to be proud of who I am, over the years.

Now and always in my heart I will keep,
Whispers from my Dad "We love you" each night as I fell asleep.

Premium Member Rosh Hashana Morning


     	        stripped bare
                shivering 
                my faultlines exposed
                   I stand before Him
 
                no one to defend me
                my record speaks for itself
                shame, far too mild a word
                    I stand before Him

               knocking at His door, poor in deeds
               asking for another year of life
               not because I deserve it

               but because He is gracious
               merciful, patient, long-suffering
               abundant in kindness and truth

Saving for my Funeral

I have this jar, nothing special about it
Aside for the fact it is used to save money
You may ask about it, actually
I'm saving for something sweet like honey

They say everything cost money
If you live you pay for you to keep on living
If you die you pay to be buried
And here I thought if I just disappear
So does my financial responsibility

Isn't so hard, to choose 
Whether to live or to die
Either choice still cost a fortune
So here I am keep on working
Keep on living, Saving for my funeral


Soggy Ramen

Soggy Ramen

By: Fawn P.
August 28th, 2026

One day…
You’ll be stuck in a loop,
Infernal, constant, unable to change,

If you're lucky it'll last a second,
If not a year,

You'll tear open a pack,
You'll save the left over dust,

Then…

You'll wait…

At first you’ll be perfect,
Your bowl well filled,
But slowly your oasis dries,

Next…

You'll wait longer…

Worms swell bigger sliding around dirt,
Made from liquid gold,
They shimmer as you watch,

Your bowl fills full now,
Your oasis less empty,

Finally…

You’ll stall…

Watch the worms,
Watch them slither and stretch,
White, pasty,
fragile…..

Your bowl is fool,
Your oasis less bear,
You sprinkle it in glitter,
Glitter makes it shine again,

Your mind eats before your mouth,
Your hands break,
as they grip and drag the brain,

The worms are squirming,
So, slippery,
So, hard to grip,

“Stop moving!” you’ll cry,

They already have,
Have they ever moved?
Did you watch them squirm?

They lay limp,
Dead and empty,,
But still swelled thick,
With liquid gold

Your bowl feel fool,
But the liquid gold is gone….

Premium Member Common Cents

Spending all our money, on anything that kills
F.D.A.'s approving more pretty poison pills
Politicians ponder, plot with the living dead
Mass media moguls, are feeding on my head

Countries run by Stooges, most everywhere you go
All these Uncle Scrooges, who just want mo' and mo'
Polar ice caps melting, the lakes are drying up
There's oil by the gallons, common sense by the cup

With prices going up, and incomes going down 
Not many can afford, a night out on the town
Cuz the "whored" is hungry, they're dining on our screams
Dripping wet with champagne covered caviar dreams

Interest rates fluctuate, determined by the FED
And how can we believe, what some Simple Simon said 
When Donkey's on the left, bite Dumbo's on the right
They hate when we agree, just love it when we fight

Ol' Gram and Gramps got rooked, "checkmate" to inflation
Their benefits got cooked, COLA's on vacation
They bought and bartered schools, A.I.'s the big romance
Backhand these chartered fools, and give our kids a chance

Premium Member an outdated ride

in the marketplace,
a rickshaw pedals round-
seeking a passenger.


Analogy Of My Unmaking

It’s cold.
It’s cold in my lodes.
It’s cold in my cells.
It’s cold in my lobe.
My ears, blessed with plagued tint; your windmill of everlasting exasperation, pacifying the turmoil beneath my dermis.
Again, again, and again.
The recurring depiction inked onto the dip of my lips, the pink waning into the virtue of my ward. 
The tears gash as I attempt to pelt away from the ceaseless predation I reluctantly melt into.
The eyes scan me head to toe; I remain a simple dispute to the contrary of my dearth.
The eyes strip me head to toe; I remain a simple fiction to the turpitude of their obscenity.
The eyes scourge me head to toe; I remain a simple anathema to the excretion of my blasphemy.
The exploited nudity travels beneath my tangible, under my demeaned stance of a humiliated vermin.
Nothing but a figurine carved into flesh.
Nothing but a mannequin scribed into skin.
Their degradation caresses the mortification of my fragility.
And the epithelium of my delicacy probes at me;
I’m not making it to 19.

Manipulation

He waved his Union Flag,
Sang God Save The King,
And when he passed away
Didn’t leave a thing.
Very quickly disposed of
By the state machine
In an unmarked grave
As though he’d never been.

The King sat in his palace
Unaware of the loss
And if he’d been told
Wouldn’t have given a toss.
Not the type of person
For his passing to matter,6
Not one of those wealthy
Who materially waxed fatter.
Just one of the lower order
Whose presence was a bore
Except as cannon fodder
In a nation’s time of war.

Manipulators still manipulate
And believers still believe,
The lonely and bereaved
Somehow find time to grieve.
His peers still waved the flag,
Sang God Save The King,
And i don’t believe  
They’ll  ever learn a thing.

Premium Member amidst dogs and crows

stale bread, rotten fruits...
urchins feed from garbage bins ---
dawn of god's kingdom?

Low Life

Fascination for the low life part of town
Down the street your head spins round
Don't be caught alone around here night
Bring a gun or you’ll get knifed
By a Gracemont Methhead low life
Don't be born into Okie society
Pay for love, the hate comes free
You’ll have enough money for the rest of your life
If you don’t marry some Latina tramp low life
Don't know exactly where I am
Woke up in my clothes again this morning
I must have sampled the Mexican clam
Didn’t wear a condom ignoring the doctor's warning
I’ve been here too long to be afraid anymore
Can't reach the bed so I sleep on the floor
You can get so stoned you think you can fly
But there is no way you’ll get high
In the Oklahoma low life

Premium Member A Beggarman Got in My Face Today

               A beggarman got in my face today
               yelling and screaming, his finger poking my stomach

                   He showed me how cruel I’ve become
                   when I dared call him a filthy bum

               Of course he exploded, called me all sorts of names
               most of which were decidedly not me

                    ‘til I gave that man a piece of my mind
                    which he spat on although it was free

Premium Member Do not turn Poverty into Poetry

It is stronger
than sympathy

Words are rattling bones,
when the meat is gone

The world is hungry
while you are bored

The divide is insulting:
cashmere and caviar
versus clouded water
and calloused feet

“In our city of lost alphabets”
I hope to find a mirror
to see myself

I wasn't with the answers

I can’t afford to go there,
nor am I strong enough
to understand the intimacy
of starvation

James Baldwin described it palpably
in ‘Black Boy’

The last stage of hunger
is when grass is an option

The minister ate
all the fried chicken!
The kids naw
on wishbones
and fiddle with sticks
in the dust

Premium Member This is All I Know


               Been high, been low
                 poverty-stricken
                    and rolling in dough

               When all is said and done
                    this is all I know

                In the eyes of Heaven, do what’s right 
                    ~ sleep soundly at night

WHAT AM I SEEING

I see movement
On the lines
Accepting, rejecting
Paying chaotic fines

What looks like a gift
Reeks of solid exchange
The price for living
Is desire, rearranged

Nothing fits just right
Catywampus is the shape
Push and shove, here and there
To prove, the debt is paid

Cold and tired all around
You will never have rest here
The fire is lit for show
A home for every fear

Grateful to finally know
You can't find value among thieves
They take while giving
So that the soul is always shedding leaves

Written by Trudy Schrader on 06-09-2026

Premium Member highbred

highbred
genteel, cosmopolitan
enchanting, winning, prospering
aristocrat, royalty, drudge, ragamuffin
suffering, laboring, struggling
destitute, deprived
lowborn

Poverty Categories

Definition | What is Poverty in Poetry?

Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.

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