#poverty poems on Hello Poetry

Shashi Jul 2017

Humanity

Even the waves so vibrant
Could not wake the little soul
Lying on the shore, Lifeless
He has a hidden story to unroll

Who killed him, men asked the waves
Was it hunger or poverty
Some disease or the war
Tell us, who ate his alacrity

Being quiet for a moment
The ocean began speaking

You blame hunger
For the death of poor
You don't value food
Never do you care

When hunger struck
Three loaves of bread, you drew
But ate only one
And threw away two

You question poverty
You blame the wars,
never looked on yourself
So you wonder
Who brought these scars

Only if, in place of questions
You could raise hands to the needy
Hold a gentle heart
Instead of being greedy

"I'm gonna tell God everything"
the little soul said before dying
And if he does
All you humans would be suffering

Because No hunger or disease it was
But, One of the men's own quality
the thing That killed the boy
Was the absence of Humanity.

In the memory of Alan Kurdi.

#humanity #war #hunger #poverty #syriacrisis #ocean #waves

Shanath Jul 2017

Bananas

The heat knocking through the glass,
Shaking the metal,
Our seats impersonating
Our body heat.
I looked out, a brief pause in journey.
The red light tirelessly blinked
Then and now,
Green would be a go.
He was peeling it off,
He asked me, as usual I said no.
One was handed to the man
With an upturned mustache on the front,
I could tell that was his pride.
Three were alined in a plastic bag,
Their fate still undecided.

Gentle but hurried taps on my window,
They had cars to cover
I think now.
Two little kids in ragged clothes,
I wonder is it the dust of the world
Or the filth of a society's failure
That stains their clothes brown,
Their faces black?
One was of the usual age
They're grown up at,
The other, the age
They begin at.
After a brief and short
And "matter of fact" discussion,
Bearing in mind the kids' busy schedule
I wound down the window,
And decided the three bananas' fate.

The grown one just ran to the next car,
Grown you see,
The little one
Yelped in happiness
Of the fruits rejected by me.
Nothing could sound more beautiful
Than the kid's exclamation
"Bananas"
A giggle.

The red turned off.
The driver smiled
Yet every act was but a drop
I could not collect
To fill the desert of doom.
The heat hovered
And hovered,
The heat that turned
Back at my home
Many bananas black
Until they were discarded.
The flies feasted upon,
The gun is pointed
At the kids.
Sometimes blood leaves no stain.
Sometimes the black stains
On bananas are of our souls.

TRAVEL TALES III
The ant, the flies,
The lion, the man,
Who is important?

#tales #poverty #kids #bananas #blood #hunger

S C Netha Jul 2017

The monsters are not under my bed

They're in my bed and in my head
they hold me when I'm scared
not to comfort or make me feel better
but to let me know they are always with me
Wherever I go, wherever I hide
they're always by my side.

The monsters are so slimy and slick
they hide themselves in my textbooks
disguising themselves as history
and facts and stats when in fact they've distorted
the truth and are using it to trap me
in a live of servitude and poverty
while they spend the fruits of my labour
on voyages to faraway lands filled with splendor.
The monsters are not under my bed
they live in the wings of the patriotic bird.

The monsters live amongst the paperwork
that litters the cupboards in their fort
while their gates keep lost souls out.
They look down on real people
with real dreams and ambitions
and they judge us for our ability
to admit that our current location
has no infrastructure to make a provision
for futures as bright as ours.
The monsters are not under my bed
they inside the insensitive embassies
and call themselves immigration policies.

The monsters were never under my bed
they looked down upon my black face
and decided that poverty was my fate
then they left work and got on a jet
for a vacation in the beautiful land of Sheiks
and expected me to roll over and play dead
but instead like a champion I held up my head
and continued to claim my share
of the wealth they stole from my land
and made them wish they lived under my bed.
while I carried their heads on a stake.

#anger #socialjustice #poverty

Xander Kyle Jun 2017

Jupiter

Hatred. Poverty. Discrimination.
A storm that’s tearing down your house and rocking the foundation.

“This too shall pass.”

I hate to know it, but life is more than an aphorism.
One thousand years ago they didn’t know that the ship would land here.

That Great Red Spot won’t stop
And the red clouds make it quite clear.

Across the surface we see it prove relentless.
You can’t wait out the storm. Silence is not progress.

So if you love your babies, give them the right gear
To brave the climate
Because if one storm passes, the next is just behind it.

#jupiter #poverty #discrimination

SR Millan Jun 2017

Broke Bread

Food bank bread is the bread that we broke when we were broke.
Food bank bread is the bread that helped me make the decision not to have food bank babies.

#poverty

Niklaus Jun 2017

Poem #2: The poor man

The man gave him food to dine
But he rejected it and said he's fine

The man comes back, gave him clothes to feel comfortable
But he folded them and returned them to the hands of fortunate.

The man tried to offer an of belongings for him to live well
But the poor man rejected and said, "This isn't fair."

Confused and offended,
the fortunate began to question the other.
"Poor fellow, Why do you choose to suffer?"

He took his hand before saying,
"why do you need to offer your belongings
when can you teach me how to achieve such things?
Teach me not how to beg, my friend.
But bring me to my senses to be responsible and let me mend
All broken dreams that I once saw in my slumber,
Teach me how to strive
So I could bring you pride."

#poverty #kindness #motivation #friend #fortunate

M Norris Jun 2017

Alms for Christmas

As the snowflakes start falling
I am left cold, and wanting.
Carols, like thick smoke, fill the air
Serenading people who didn't see me there.
Boney hands outstretched like a leafless tree
There are some things people don’t wish to see

Alms, alms, just for one hot meal,
Alms for Christmas, don’t make me steal.
Alms, for cocoa with peppermint and cream
Alms for kindness, for a childhood dream.

But my hands remained empty, catching only snow
The wool clad shoppers bustling past, rush rush, two days to go.
They pay me no heed for I am ragged, unsightly
They don’t want to ***** their conscience, for it shines so brightly.

The streets, eerily quiet on this cold winter morning.
Empty, not a soul in sight, not a caroler performing.
Frost laden windows reveal a world now beyond my grasp,
In tired eyes tears well as I'm visited by Christmas’ past.

A snowcapped landscape fills my thoughts
A small cabin by the woods is where I'm brought.
The sun is just starting to peek above the mountain,
Its rays springing forth like a golden fountain.

Wake up early! Before Mom and Dad,
We had to see what new toys we had.
“Look *****, look! Santa was here!
He left a print in the hearth and fed his reindeer!”
Mom made coffee as dad rubbed his eyes,
Once presents were done, we had one last surprise,
Once presents were done, we had one last dream.
hot cocoa, with peppermint and cream!

And then it was gone, like the crack of a whip,
It was gone before I got even a single sip.
Back to the seeping cold, the piercing chill
As I sit alone on Christmas under a windowsill.
I was alone,
the chill, more piercing now
Reaching my bones.
In houses all around me families sharing love and cheer.
It hurt me so much more to be so near.

Alms, alms just for one warm embrace,
Alms to banish these tears from my face.
Alms, alms to stay strong and endure
Alms, alms, the end is near.

Yes, This is a Christmas poem in June, its also very dark. Do people ever see just how rough the world can be?

#christmas #homless #xmas #rhyme #holiday #dark #alms #poor #poverty #hobo