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
Our love for our resilient Haiti
Remains steadfastly unconditional.
Our love for this beloved country
Remains obviously emotional.
For a quarter of a century,
The others did not do too much,
For this yesteryear paradise island.
For more than a dozen years,
The incompetent and spurious leaders,
The opponents and the exiled ones
Also ruled this precious piece of land.
So far, no significant improvement…
Corruption, theft, piratry, poverty,
Kidnappings, death, mismanagement
Lies, excuses and misery …
This is not the hell that our forefathers died for…
I can tell you more, I can prove you more.
God Almighty, there is a constant and eternal search
For real leadership, unlike the bad ones
That we have had unfortunately over the last centuries.
We are tired of seeing Haiti among the poorest countries.
Our love for Haiti
Is sadly emotional.
Our love for this poverty stricken country
Remains simply unconditional.
Copyright© January 2010, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
The Inland Algarve
The landscape is so oddly shaped.
Had once been a domestic landscape,
where the scent of wild herbs and the whisper
The wind through olive branches told stories of past lives,
Walking along a narrow cartwheel
Tracks I often come across the remnant
Of dwellings that once had housed
Poverty-stricken people who had
Ploughed small and reluctant fields
Olive trees had grown wild and tall
Bearing bitter fruit.
Some walls had no purpose, sinking.
Back to earth, becoming rocks again.
A haunted landscape in the inland Algarve,
a region rich with a history of Moorish influence
and traditional farming,
Algarve, and no one saw it doomed
Beauty.
Rabbits and boars peacefully roam, embodying
the natural serenity that still whispers through the land.
And sheep grazed in the gloaming.
Stillness, yet I sensed voices that once
Had loved and lived struggling
Against poverty and early death.
poverty-stricken
skeleton-like old women ~
gather grain-remains
President Joe Biden
Must have his horizon's widened
When he practiced falling up stairs
I'm glad I wasn't there
There was a president from Delaware
Whom about poverty-stricken didn't care
He'd stumble up AirForce 1's stairs
Up in the air slept like a bear
While people on earth lived on such poor fare
He needs to step off his high horse
Let someone younger finish the course
So, the people of American can be great
And glad to close up the Alien's gate
poetry eludes my soul
when I desperately want to embrace it
when I watch dahlias blossom and dance in the wind
poetry glowing in my mind dances too
when at tranquil dawn idly lying in bed
I listen to pitter-patter of falling raindrops
when sun-god appears on his chariot driven by seven horses
illuminate horizon turning sky into flaming vermillion crimson
with my elated heart I dream poetry
poetry abandons me
when at darkest of nights I stay awake looking at the bare ceiling
wonder why unfair and cruel words still cut me mercilessly like a knife
why do I feel like a candle inside me melting till there is nothing left
fragile petals of a wilting rose ruthlessly sprawled on the hard ground
why do teardrops fall like tiniest pearls created by hurt and suffering
in a poverty-stricken country early quiet morning crows caw harshly
the young boy I see on the streets painting the exterior of a building
a torn shirt on a skeleton body shivering from biting cold
beyond my comprehension how he survives
poetry leaves me
Great riches protect
Poverty-stricken lair
Led people's respect.
Africa my Africa; of resources rich.
Aggressively wooed because her potentials enrich.
Africa the bride, historically bid for.
The continent dark with opulent fields to explore.
Your labour past prospered farmers of the Occident.
Your hidden value takes the gaze of the Orient.
Not even the world's giants can your 'dwarfness' ignore,
as they compete for potentials concealed therein.
You seek for succour but your abundance lies herein.
Your pleasant shores will no more the brain drain witness.
Your lush green will spring forth from your feigned wilderness.
Africa my home will her charming beauty unveil.
No more will your poverty stricken let out a wail.
Near a hallowed grave,
Under a clouded moon.
The lonely Minstrel plays,
A very somber tune.
The last resting place,
Of a fallen King.
Betrayed by royal blood,
He felt the dagger's sting.
His wicked son was crowned,
And now stood at the helm.
He clenched a tyrant's sword,
Which bore a tattered realm.
A cold blackened heart,
Bred his lust for power.
The Nobles it divided,
And left the people sour.
The endless wars that raged,
Would help destroy the land.
All armies laid to waste,
By his unyielding hand.
Poverty stricken masses,
Rose up to end his rule.
Their tolerance expired,
To endure his laws so cruel.
They fought with all their might,
But those efforts were in vain.
The hope of freedom quashed,
And he kept his bloody reign.
After years of vile neglect,
The walls came tumbling down.
This once mighty kingdom,
Would soon crash to the ground.
The Castle stones still remain,
But the legends are all gone.
Moonlight breaks through the clouds,
While the Minstrel plays on.
A moral question,
How do you know hunger?
Some people don't know about
these terrible words in their lives:
A) Hunger,
B) Sorrow,
C) Problems,
D) Tears,
E) Pain,
If you meet with a person who
Did not experience one of those words
In his " her" life,
Don't bowl over.
Some people were born
And grew up in bourgeoisie,
They don't have emotions,
They don't real know the real
Meaning of
Suffering.
Some people seem bamboozled
Because of living luxury life,
Sleeping on golds and
diamonds
And others are real stumped
by poverty stricken
not having a cent in
their pouches,
Bloody life,
Living like hell.
A blind can not see the street,
But he "she" can see hunger,
And scream loudly,
"I feel hungry,
My belly vibrating awfully,
Trembilling so dreadfully,
So hungry "
" Anger always follows hunger"
Don't ever laugh at a person
who is starving,
As you can not put up with the
heavy vibration of hunger.
March 11/2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe Mussabwa Chris
It is the cause of all acts of terrorism,
including but not limited to suicide bombings.
It is the cause of most crimes running rampant in all nations,
including but not limited to child exploitation,
human trafficking, mostly women,
but generally both male and female when trafficking children.
It is responsible for all the wars throughout the world presently exploding,
making more richer and more powerful CEOs of war profiteering corporations,
including but not limited to all the corrupt politicians,
and lawyers and so called "Honest" businessmen.
It is responsible for all who have ever been,
poverty stricken, starving and dying from malnutrition.
Without the need for money all of the above would no longer exist.
If we are to evolve for the better, society must go moneyless,
with a new set of values also established,
that isn't motivated by greed or monetary profit.
I'll say it again like I've said it before,
"Money must one day go the way of the dinosaur,
or it will be the cause of all of our peril for sure."
Keeping memories alive thru the years
Abashed at why I was lost
Taking for granted, compounded by fears
Emptiness adds to the cost
All of that time, was centered on me
Selfish and headstrong, I could not be told
Though poverty stricken I struggled to be
Entwined, but challenged to be so bold.
Peaceful and Easy the Feelings of day
Each memory was a dear one
Righteous but foolish in every way
Assured by that Sweet City Woman.
Shall I never travel that way
Or navigate that distance
Really, it’s easy for me to say
Remembering in this instance
You were my Sweet City Woman
THE CONDITION WE LIVING IN:Part 1:
The condition we living in,
Kindly ponder over it…?
Hello, Isn`t it intriguing to see the nation loss of hope?
The powers of oneness is no more in existence,
The spirit of patriotism is cast under sections of canalizations,
And everyone seems to put on bright eyes enforced by a grin on a face?
In fact, that’s just a mirage of uncertainties.
The individual heart is yoked with disappointments and depression.
It seems the nation have given up on her benchmark,
Only to pursue paganism as a solution.
Truth is lost in the mouth of our ignorant leaders.
Yet, they come to spit words of promises to propagate relief.
The nation is now reconstructed with deceptions, favoritism and jeopardy.
This is causing millions to be poverty-stricken,
And also plaguing livelihoods with extreme maleficence.
Indeed, this is the condition we living in.
DILAPIDATED GLOBE
A weary pneuma bleeds
Tears of the miserable
The poverty-stricken tumbledown
The opulence shows gusto.
At the sight of the indigent
But very penurious in helping...
They live in safety isle
But parade in the dilapidated globe.
Masses weep
Agony of the wretched man
Mercy he pleads
To mother earth and nature.
Under a thatched leaking roof
Muds fall at bewitching hours
Petite ice drops like contingent snow
If wishes were horses...
If the night could give way to day...
Friendly enemies of the night parading
What a tragic horror for the cynical
In a dilapidated globe.
An Ijeoma Ikonne's poem © 2021
Hopeless cries maybe but from far away
I'm lolling in the lap of luxury
So why do I care if they eat but whey.
Desperate parents sighing all the day
Living a life of toil and drudgery
Hopeless cries maybe but from far away.
Poverty-stricken, none more poor than they
While I fun and feast, they eat shrubbery,
So why do I care if they eat but whey.
Kneeling down unto the Lord they did pray
Every breath unkind, a toilsome journey
Hopeless cries maybe but from far away.
It is the rule of our fate, none can sway
There is no escape, no recovery
So why do I care if they eat but whey.
While they subsist on handouts, sleep on hay
They but reap what they sow, in summery
Hopeless cries maybe but from far away
So why do I care if they eat but whey.
Contest: Say It Again
Sponsor: William Kekaula
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