Love Poems About Poverty or Poverty Love Poems

Poverty love poems and/or love poems about Poverty. Read, share, and enjoy these Poverty love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems.

Poem Details | by John Hamilton |
Categories: abuse, addiction, child abuse, drug, growing up, poverty, sad,

You're worthy of love

You're worthy of love

I see the scars, you're hiding deep within
they're not visible, upon your skin
you don't even know, how you could begin
to feel worthy of love...

You've been floating away, in time and space
your pain is written, all over your face
your dignity left you, without a trace
and you don't feel worthy of love

Bridge 1
I've seen so many people, just like you
they never seem to make a fuss
the only colors you know, are black and blue
and now it's hard for you to trust

The only friends you had, have long since died
you couldn't save them all, even if you tried
now you bottle up all, your feelings inside
you don't feel worthy of love

Bridge 2
I know to you living, is not worthwhile
but I can prove that you're wrong
I know it hurts to even try to smile
cause you forgot where you belong

Some may say, that you're a little high strung
you've shed too many tears, for someone so young
don't you know that you're life has just begun
and that you're worthy of love...

oh yes you're worthy of love
you are so worthy of love

You've forgotten that, you too have worth
you're the only you, on this planet earth
just ask the loving ones, who caused your birth
they'll're worthy of love
indeed you're worthy of love

welcome home my dear!
you are so worthy of love!

April 21,2017
John Derek Hamilton

Poem Details | by Sandip Goswami |
Categories: celebrity, deep, hero, inspirational, love, poverty, sensual,


They are not rich.
They have no car
They have no fat.
They have no dream.

They are not so-called educated persons.
They are not news.

They are struggling for existence.

They have not any exceed of life 
Which is poison

They live with their old parents.

They have innocent smile and intuition.

They created their poor house as rich home.

They are my celebrities.
But I am not communist.


Poem Details | by liam mcdaid |
Categories: hate, love, peace, poverty, power, pride, war,

As dark clouds

Descends over the mountains 
a blanket of suffering thunder
The fork between two tongues sings 
truth always comes to light 
under angel rays expelling echoes 

A thousand ancient whispers 
striking home babbling silently 
gathering tongues cry to the vain
Gale force in the mind blows fuse 

There is so many power hungry nations 
fed by constantly spilling innocent blood 
keeping people down is such a falsehood
God be with all victims of crime committed 

Wounded knee echoes of past genocide exist 
as does the Emerald Isle 
an open book clearly speaks volumes

They who should be held accountable 
by countries of this world 
brought to justice and face the facts 
freedom is a democracy 
to live without chains attached

Sweeping under weeping souls chant 
Spirits haunting winds cry 
over many plains in song 
There is no love of God present 
in them who take another's life

Rustling through branches 
many tales of woe Armenia cries out 
Battle reduces men into animals 
through their blood thirsting hate scars

Filled with rage and bitterness gas used 
inhumane violence stormy seas fuels the desire 
to kill every living being poisonous mushrooms cloud 
with hate consumes 
wiping out countless women and children 
destroying nature without a care for this planet
Always innocent parties unto such vile acts are addressed openly
Wipe away the cobwebs from over your eyes world 
Taking life from the living forbidden 
no good disturbing the balance of peace 
Love is far from so many people's heart's these days

Poem Details | by Carolyn Devonshire |
Categories: hope, love, poverty,

Midnight Valentine

Like fresh water from springs below a lake
There is much love to give, but who will take?

shuffling ‘neath neon lights
or lurking in alleyways
Myra roams urban streets

			Kay’s large house seems so empty
			Conveniences money provides
			but it’s affection she wishes to share

judgmental parents disowned her
for handouts Myra pleads
fearing the fate of her unborn

			so young was Kay’s husband 
                        struck down before his first gray hair
			she sobbed when told her womb would be barren
lashed by winter’s icy whip
Myra mingles with the homeless
stopping at shelters to eat for two

			until at a soup kitchen one day
			a compassionate volunteer named Kay
			offers to share her ample home
Like fresh water from springs below a lake
There is overflowing love to give, but who will take?

*January 31, 2019
For Chantelle’s Midnight Valentine Contest

Poem Details | by Blake Holland |
Categories: addiction, adventure, allusion, anger, art, child, childhood, children, community, corruption, crazy, dark, death, deep, depression, desire, evil, fantasy, fear, freedom, future, gothic, grave, grief, imagination, lust, murder, pain, pollution, poverty, power, sad love, science, society, spiritual, spoken word, visionary,

The Future Starts Here

The innocence is transfusing
and overturning 
the goat skin drums
children of the mills,
children of the junkyard,
and savaging
and we keep filling them with
mercury, nitrate, espestice, baby bombs
blasted out of their shaved heads
and foraging

Poem Details | by Chris Boskovski |
Categories: abuse, age, beautiful, blue, city, crazy, cry, dark, evil, goodbye, horror, how i feel, london, lost, miss you, missing, missing you, night, poverty, power, psychological, relationship, romance, romantic, sad, sad love, sick, sin, stress, suicide, summer, sun, water, woman, world, write, writing,

Can you feel me

Feel me standing there
on the draw bridge
that stands stubburn and erect
over the rushing waters blown by the wind
back and forth.
I listened to the crows
posted on gargoils designed
of eightenth century Gothic architecture
singing their death songs,
when the sun is setting in the far.

The voices of women passing
startle me with a feeling of sorrow
I can't breathe, I am dying.
Feel me, can you feel me rot away?
Slowly but surely rot away
as time passes with ease,
and taxi cabs take smiling, intoxicated faces
to wayward cafes, oh how they screech to a halting stop
and wave to me to get in.

"No thank you, I'd rather walk." I say to the smiling faces
highly intoxicated with the thought of the birds and the bees
rattling around in their empty minds.
Then they drive off, into the city lights and turn a darkened corner.
I look at the rushing water
and feel myself rot away
slowly but surely rot away.

Can you feel me?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Feel my heart thump with slow paces
that manage to keep up with fast melodies.
Of songs that play in your mind
only the ones that make you sigh
and think those one days in Spring time
as you walked over the draw bridge
and paid no mind to the water underneth.
I hear no more talk of you and me, I hear no more talk
of the good old times we all shared.
Time has passed, as I take my last breathe
and hold my chest and shead a tear.
Feel me, can you?
If you can, put your hand to my weak heart 
and feel it thump away with every second wasted
on useless items.
Now, see me a man of one time greatness
reflect his life with a reflection in the water below.
How I sigh and cry and breath heavely,
as I feel myself rot away.

The voices of woman pass me by.
Tomorrow is a new day,
for the smiling faces in taxi cabs will go home
and soak their raging hangovers with cool, wet rags.
As I still stand on the draw bridge singing with the crows,
feeling myself rot away.

Can you feel me without you, rotting away?
I surely can feel myself rot.
Such a heavy word, "rot"
So vulgare, yet a great description of me,
without you.

I pull out a shawl you once wore and I kiss it.
As the wind gusts and the sun rises and my shadow
comes to meet me, the wind shall take my last memory
of you away.
And I shall weep no more.
Then what will I do? Shall I walk the streets
and think of you.
Yes you, still rambling all throughout my head
like a lose screw.
Can you feel me? Feel me rot away
feel me think about you, and all your works.
Can you feel me?

Poem Details | by Daniel Human |
Categories: hope, loss, love, poverty,

Gain and Loss

To gain a friend is to lose loneliness
To gain poverty is to lose many friends

It’s sad to see the edge of selfishness
To see the waves and tides and trends

But one who gives, gives love so simply
And one who goes, goes alone

Yet here you stand alone, but loved
Even if you stand and beg

For someone to throw an empty bone

Poem Details | by curtis johnson |
Categories: adventure, america, appreciation, beauty, blessing, love, poverty,

True Values

True Values (Rich)

I have seen America from sea to shining sea, but have never left its sandy shores.
I’m older now, but when younger, I longed to see and light up the world.
Now, I do not long to see, but have learned from where I sit, to point, click, and shine the lightIf I never behold the seven wonders  of the world,  I’ll not be disappointed.

Wisconsin’s rolling hills in America’s dairy land; Great people of goodwill are there in a lovely placeBut if I had the choice and the means to buy the largest
Dairy farm and produce the finest cheese, would I do it?

Growing up, Chicago was a haven and place of refuge to start afresh and anew; a metropolis of golden opportunity; where many of us Southerners sought financial sanityBut if I could pay for any high rise along the Magnificent Mile; a beauty which once I could only stare upon; if I could possess such treasure overlooking Lake Michigan, would I? 

There’s a world class city of hills and pricey real estate;
For years,  I drove peacefully across that Golden Gate.
But there were no roaming fears of shakes and quakes,                                   nor did we complaint of the soothing fog horns.
But if I could buy Twin Peaks or purchase Alcatraz Island                                and build a ‘to die for’ palace; Would I do it?

If I was the world’s richest man, my final answer would be ‘no’ to all the above and other places of unthinkable beauty Nay I would not be excited, impressed, or inspired by any  ‘eye catchers’ of the world.

But I would be most inspired to live as a rich man where I once was born and raised as a poor boy I would be continually enriched to inspire others who would observe the blessings of one, who once lived simply, labored hard in dusty cotton fields, and lingered long in the oven of the sun I would be honored to tell the young ones about a senior citizen who once bailed hay, chopped and picked cotton, and pulled corn on hot and humid days that seemed to never end.

YesWere I a rich man, I would buy Hugh acres of land, produce marketable crops, and pay the highest wages I would live and build among the poorMy home would be modest, and I would help them build fine new homesI would seek to transform a land once among the richest soil on earth into a community of the greatest value on the planet Its people would be enriched with a higher standard of living; but also with dignity, integrity, productivity, and goodwill1021201 (Contest)

Poem Details | by Chukwuemeka Anyikwa |
Categories: love, poverty,

Love of the Ordinary

"Though common, we love.
Ours is one as the cloud that 
holds the rain, when it looses, 'it' 
becomes never-ending.
We love as from the birth of our 
We are the unforseen grace of the 
globe that gilds the graceful and 
the graceless.
Who is pro rata to love?
We love carelessly.
Who loves non-to fear none?
In death, we need not orders to 
Our love is prosaic".

Poem Details | by Daniel Human |
Categories: life, lost love, people, poverty, sad,

the garden gnome

The man walked up the alley
A shepherd in a valley
Looking for that one lost sheep
When WhatsApp gives a beep
The man took our his phone
An ape picks up a bone
And uses it as a tool
To bash the brainless fool
The sheep had wandered off
As the feet on pavements scoff
Walking past the man seeking alms
Ignoring the poor lady selling charms
The man walked to his home
To his garden and its gnome
Expecting love and tea
And his baby on his knee
The sheep is out there cold
And the whino’s face is old
But not wizened or sagely
Merely worn out and agely
The Shepherd cries a tear
For the sheep so lost right here
In their homes
With garden gnomes
With eyes wide shut

Poem Details | by Reynaldo Mast |
Categories: abuse, adventure, anger, baby, betrayal, bullying, care, child, childhood, children, conflict, confusion, corruption, courage, crazy, culture, dark, death, desire, devotion, discrimination, emotions, environment, evil, faith, family, fear, friendship, grief, growing up, growth, heart, hope, horror, image, innocence, life, loneliness, lonely, longing, loss, lost love, love, me, memory, pain, poverty, sad, sick, strength, stress, sympathy, violence,

Physically and Mentally Abuse

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear

Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm

When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane

I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes

I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries

I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs

As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call

With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay

Poem Details | by Victor Chavez |
Categories: freedom, friend, friendship, life, love, poverty, together, truth, wisdom,

Kith and kin

Have a heart and heartless be not
life is fleeting forlorn in hopes unfulfilled.
Seek truly caring kith and kin,
who love you still though flawed.
Loneliness by lasting love annihilated.
Passing passion ends in pain delayed,
though sought for sudden pleasures
and immediate delights.

Who cares for kin unknown and far removed?
The poor despised despite possessing huge hearts.

Poem Details | by Tim Smith |
Categories: children, humanity, love, poverty,

Tears Fall

Tears fall and I crave
tears fall and out the window I gaze
to a place of peace where a piece of me
belonged to something special searching
to heal hearts suffering in silence
Tears fall and I hurt again
tears fall but I cant relieve the pain
of a child struggling to see past
the darkness imprisoning dreams
holding back tomorrow's teachers
leaving only a life of crime

Tears fall as I fast
tears fall as I wonder how long this can last
ribs protrude, feet inward, head down
a life lost while to the birds I toss
the bread of life but wide eyes still cry
not knowing what happiness brings
where childhood lies and everyone sings

Tears fall but I know
tears fall as my heart grows
the winds of change
begging to give all I have
for just one chance to hold, to mold
a brother, a sister, a mother, a father
with freedoms fragile touch

Before my end I hope to intercede 
and the only trickles left will be
the hunger for hope
and the love I bleed

Poem Details | by J.W. Earnings |
Categories: absence, angst, beauty, betrayal, change, conflict, confusion, courage, dark, depression, emotions, fear, forgiveness, freedom, grief, happiness, how i feel, journey, life, lonely, longing, loss, lost, lost love, memory, missing you, moving on, muse, mystery, ocean, pain, poverty, relationship, sad, sensual, song, sorrow, stress, success, sympathy, teen, time, uplifting,

It's Not Over

Don’t say it’s all over (cause it’s not)
“Sorry” won’t cover it…so don’t go on your knees and pray for my forgiveness 
Oh baby…don’t listen to the commotion…I’m done taking cover (it’s all for naught)
I’m plummeting in slow motion…into the remorseful pit…I’m plummeting in my nightmare’s abyss

I want to carry you through the night… 
I’m swimming in the ocean of my tears… 
My sodden wings lost its ability of flight…
You've been swimming in your distress for years… 

Shut up! Don’t say it...
Don’t even think of it (don’t even ponder it)
Hey! Don’t say it’s all over…though we’re breaking bit by bit 
‘Cause there’s more treasure to discover 

I want to remind you to fight the good fight…
My misery pools are brewing inside of my head…
I’m backing away from the light & exploring the night… 
You’re giving in to sleep and I’m wide awake on my bed 

Shut up! Don’t say it...
Don’t even think of it (don’t even ponder it)
Hey! Don’t say it’s all over…though we’re breaking bit by bit 
‘Cause there’s more treasure to discover 

Please don’t tell me…oh, don’t tell me…darling!
You’re giving up today… (I beg you to stay, despite your inner pain) 
I’m scared I might erupt – it could be quite startling!
Someday, things will change for the better… (Don’t turn the wrong lane)
I’m waiting for that day to arrive – perhaps it will wash away our dismay…

I promise you a tranquil reality 
I want to stray with you tonight 
I still have hope that He’ll set us free
I was wondering if you could stay the night
Maybe the Lord could grant us 
Pure, incredible delight 

Shut up! Don’t say it...
Don’t even think of it (don’t even ponder it)
Hey! Don’t say it’s all over…though we've plunged into our own pit 
‘Cause there’s more treasure to gather…

Poem Details | by Chris Boskovski |
Categories: beautiful, beauty, courage, cry, dark, depression, desire, devotion, evil, farewell, fear, fire, first love, for her, funeral, girl, girlfriend, goodbye, grief, heart, heartbroken, how i feel, i love you, leaving, life, loneliness, lonely, longing, loss, lost, lost love, love, morning, murder, passion, poetry, poets, poverty, rain, red, relationship, romance, romantic, sad, sad love, strength, stress, wisdom, woman, write,

Like the frightened Jackrabbit, I run away from Love

Jump up and down like a jackrabbit
running through meadows
running from what?
Could it be heartbreak,
a venemous snake that hides in the grass,
hiding with fangs ready to pierce the tender skin
upon the tight, bronze flesh of everyday life?
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye now!
I need a vacation a long way away from the faceless smiles
and ignorance of young girls, who don't look at you,
who don't show you love and respect.
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye now,
as jumping spiders hop everywhere, crawling eight legs around me
my soul black like carcoal, but my heart still beating
slower this time, not like the days before
and like the jackrabbit running from anything and everything,
I run to seek love and vanish away from the empty voids
that people call, their souls.
Recording a film with no tape,
talking to a woman you love, but not having the guts to tell her how you really feel
Jump my boy, like a jackrabbit, take my advice
tell her before she leaves
turns down the endless avenues of endless dark love
the trees grow taller, taller than you
and you sit there feeling away yourself die, missing out in life.
I cannot see you lose your love.
Say it, say it, Say it!!! Tell her! Tell her! Build the guts up!
Build up the courage, tell her how you feelTake her by the hand and never say goodbye! Never say goodnight, stay with her till the flight comes in the morning
of the first rays of sun shine through your dorm room take her and love her!
Do not be like me, the jackrabbit! I see no happiness
Reading poetry it makes me sad,
to write of others falling in love and I never finding the one.
People tell me, you'll find yours, have hope
but I am a frightened little jackrabbit
who flees from sounds of deep emotions, not having courage to fall in love,
not building the guts up to tell her how I really feel.
She walks alone, I find my oppertunity and sing my love song
She smiles and moves on,
please tell me I cannot fight anymore.
All I have to say is Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
I need a vacation
to go to some sandy beach on an island of love
and write and write and write, the same poetry that depresses me
but makes you all fall in love with words!
Fiction about love stories, please kiss me
Blue eyed death comes, plays a game of chess with me
I bet twenty, he bets my soul
Kiss me death, the only love I'll ever get,
besides my poet friends who kiss my ass
Listen to my heart, truely, I don't write of beauty
I write for the sorrow soul, the fleeing jackrabbit
running away from love.....

Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: gender, health, humor, love, political, poverty, power,

Franciscan Swissophiles

part of my own historic root system,
has a Bill of Rights for vegetation,
protecting rights of intrinsic dignity
with concomitant human respect for their healthy and aesthetic purposes.
It is not OK to merely throw away 
without regard for future seedling’s rights of vital procreation
within holistic ecologically-systemic balance of cooperative species.

More recently,
Pope Francis has been protecting rights of sacred dignity,
with concomitant human respect for healthy polycultural purpose,
rather than throwing away our wildflower vegetation,
our GLBTQ AlphaMeta Networking Soup,
our women and Earth’s poor and marginalized,
whether incarnating as humane-potentiating nature,
or other forms of networking nature.

It’s sad to discover your ego’s reflecting label 
as a needy one
a greedy one for two or even more,
to need active love more global than anyone
you could ever dare to know.

Pope Francis,
permaculturally principled developers everywhere,
Swiss vegetation,
what is and is not naturally embryonic
about regenerating within as without Landscapes,
before and after health,
above and below (0)-zone economies,
this divine race through bilateral time’s vulnerably edgy emergence,
zeroistic revolution simplifying ecological poli-economics.

Mutual respect for all life systems
to co-mentor with RNA’s extended family Elders,
sustainable regenerating healthy love
for all Earth’s Tribes of synergetic life,
interior as exterior climate-balancing,
Sacred Tao,
ReGenerating BiCameral EcoSystems,
speaking EcoLogic’s RNA/DNA Syntax
as Universal Polynomially Balanced Language,
permacultural principles networking polycultural multi-vegetative love 
as beautiful health outcomes.

Yet it remains hard to play life’s prodigy
without prodigal influx of divine trust
in regenerative lust for deep time
through mutual health-caring love,
when taking care of beloved vegetation
invites co-therapeutic love returns of love economics
as loving love’s Other (0)-Soul Balancing EgoSelves.

Active Love in RealTime vegetative networks
is not spiritualized absence of thinking.
Active love is anticipating our becoming co-redeemers
co-arising Bodhisattva ProGenitors
stretching toward enlightenment
to continue diurnal worship of SunGod HealthyLove.

Active love awakens incarnate lifetimes
to bilateral empathy as poli-economic beauty,
on whose Attendance we can evolve,
nature nurturing permacultural investments
of Ego’s mindbody.

We love
with Earth
to remember our DNA/RNA eco-belonging principles 
of Active NetWorking Love;
this web languaging time’s regenerative intent
and degenerative climatic great transitional discontented
root systemic,
and otherwise dysfunctionally noisy lack of Love Management.

It feels important to see oneself
as greedy for beloved prodigy of self-esteem,
to intentionally know love for more than any one Ego-species system
you would ever care to polyculturally grow.

NetWorking Bills of TransParent Rights
regeneratively rooted in human nature
now disencultured
disengaged from RNA’s nutritional memories of health vpathology
as economic wealth 
as equitable fertile inclusive outcomes
for all life's co-vegetating networked species.

Poem Details | by J.W. Earnings |
Categories: absence, beautiful, beauty, conflict, confusion, courage, dedication, desire, devotion, emotions, faith, fear, feelings, forgiveness, hope, imagination, inspiration, inspirational, journey, joy, leaving, life, loneliness, lonely, longing, loss, lost, lost love, love, me, poverty, sorrow, strength, stress, time, together, uplifting, words, write, writing, youth,

My Notebook

Stimulating ideas pop into your head
You need a pen…you need a piece of lined paper 
It looks like you’re outtah luck…no wonder you’re drowning in dread
You need a shoulder to lie your head down for a moment’s rest… 
You need a helper…to aid you while you struggle emotionally…
I’m not trying to irritate you purposely

Try with all your might…try your best
To stay optimistic and fervent 
I believe that you’ll pass the test
Be upbeat, kindhearted and jubilant  

I appreciate the words you wrote on my notebook…
Sometimes, I feel like leftovers left on the counter…
I’m a rotten mess – you’re leaving me as if I’m an uninteresting book 
Sometimes, I feel like a coward – I don’t mean to bother…

But, you’re like no other

You’re like a mat – you’re constantly stepped on…
I’m like YOUR unwanted tool – 
I stepped on you and
Pushed your buttons
I accused you of being the fool 
When, in fact, I’m the fool by your side…
You’re drifting…pushing me aside…

I’m writing words of truth though – 
Expressing how much I’m fond of you 

I esteem your presence
Glowing with glee 
At times, you do say things without thinking 
I’m the god of distress – 
You’re leaving me breathless 
Cutting me down like I’m some decaying tree
You don’t see how much you make me…
Guilty for your crimes
Taking the blame about the hundredth time 

At times, I feel that I’m awkward when I’m around you

You’re like a backpack – you carry everyone’s weight…
You’re like a sponge – soaking in our stress
I’m a distraction to you – you’re wasting valuable time…but don’t hesitate 
I’m writing words of self-centered feelings – logic doesn’t exist…
But these feelings aren’t as bad as committing a crime
These feelings come and go – I just had to confess 
I didn’t mean to screw up your progress…

Hey, if you need a few sheets of paper to right on, 
Use me like a notebook instead…and write with all your might
It seems as if you read me…like a book that drags on and on 
Use me as your tool of relaxation… and read me all night  

When you wrote those words on my notebook…
It made my day…you’re such a delight 
Like reading a fascinating, classic book

Poem Details | by curtis johnson |
Categories: abuse, blessing, care, love, poverty, rain,

Bare Feet

Bare Feet 

On cold wet pavement, he walked without shoes
I could not ignore this man without shoes 
Stopping him I asked, “Where are your shoes?”
He replied to me, “Someone stole my shoes”.
Giving him mine, saying, “Here are your shoes”.

11102015(PS contest, “Forty” 40 words> 5 lines                                               of 8 words eachSponsored by Silent One)                             

Poem Details | by Michael Bell |
Categories: cute love, fantasy, fun, magic, poverty,

The Magic Spell

The Magic Spell  

Sandwiched tween the  satin  sheets,
My  head  at  rest  upon  your  breast,
Snuggled up to warm  our  hearts,
Lavender scents  the air  its breath.

A  starlight  flash  adorns the room,
Alas ! a fairy  queen has  come,
to cast a  magic spell of  love, 
A sensual  movement of your hips,
informs our  lips  to seal a wish

The  dampness on  your  brow  it  says,
that cosmic fluid  has  to  flow,
to burst the  bubble  that  has  grown, 
and melt the  moment that has shown.

Poem Details | by Asiphe Tomeli |
Categories: history, poverty, relationship, sad, world, hate, love, i love you,

Wonders of my life

I can't help but wonder
I can't help it but I just have to look back
The scar's that I have healed
Every picture I have is so random
I could cry a river
I can't stop the anger within
How can I love and hate thee at the same time
You were supposed to be my shield but you burnt me
You were supposed to be my oxygen but yet you're my 
carbon dioxide
My heart feels like an Ice box
You're a part of me
You're my strength yet my weakness
You're past yet my future
You're my enemy yet my family
I hate you and i love you at times
You break me but yet you make me

Poem Details | by Blake Holland |
Categories: addiction, allusion, angel, anger, art, celebration, confusion, crazy, depression, desire, earth, emotions, fantasy, fear, feelings, freedom, god, grief, health, humanity, humorous, image, imagination, life, loneliness, love, magic, music, nonsense, peace, planet, political, poverty, power, pride, psychological, sound, space, spiritual, stars, stress, suicide, sympathy, teen, usa, wisdom, world,

An Aquarian Exposition

Take the pill
on the hill
and don't be shrill
when you see the rainbow
when you are low.
Just go with the flow
and eat the purple snow.
Chase the rabbits 
through the green field
but use my shield 
to end all of your habits.

Poem Details | by curtis johnson |
Categories: brother, dream, hope, inspiration, love, poverty,

My Oldest Brother

My Oldest Brother

There is a story in the Bible about a young man name David who slew a giant name Goliath My oldest brother was also name David, and he too slew several giants of a different kind Please allow me to name just a few of the giants that my brother slew.

The name of the first giant was MRPOVERTY, and David slew that giant by being a hard worker This David who was my oldest brother slew a lot of giants, and I think those who knew him would agree David slew MrPOVERTY by taking advantage of every good opportunity that came his way.

The name of the second giant was MRMAKE US RICH, and he killed that giant by not spending his entire life making other people rich In stead, he believed in himself and started his own business.

The name of the third giant was MRRENT RECEIPTS, and he slew this giant by purchasing his own home and other properties In so doing, he stopped receiving rental receipts and started giving them out to others.

The name of the fourth giant was MRSELFISHNESS, and he destroyed this giant by helping other family members like myself to better themselves.

The name of the fifth giant was MRI CAN'T, and he slew this giant by helping me and many others to realize our own success The jump-start that he gave to others and me enabled us to go as far as our dreams would take us.

The sixth and last giant was name MRBE LIKE US My brother David killed this giant, and just like the David in the Bible, he cut his head completely off This giant wanted everybody to be like him, and David did not try to be like everybody else He just wanted to be himself and do things his way I never knew if David had a favorite song, but if I had to guess, it would probably be Frank Sinatra’s song, "I DID IT MY WAY".

10/26/2013 (Contest, Older siblings)

Poem Details | by Andrew Crisci |
Categories: change, children, conflict, love, peace, people, political, poverty, racism, religion, society, together, truth, war,

A Free World Without Barriers And Flags

How unthinkable is for a Jew and an Arab to walk
side by side and end the atrocities of war!
They wouldn't be afraid of a nuclear weapon attack,
their sky would be blue, not filled with horror;  
will their children be taught unprejudiced love 
to build that harmonious and peaceful grove?

If religious wars were never fought, 
so much grief would be spared
for the ones holding the hateful thought:
wouldn't Jesus be more loved?

If food were given to hungry people, 
death would be walking away from all;
many see starvation, but ignore the call...
they rather live well and ignore their struggle.

I must believe in the dream of world peace
when happiness would reign and increase
in lands where justice has been miguided
and the quest for truth has been denied.

Let's hold hands and teach the little ones
never to be remembered of conflicts
that caused woe and death for ages!
Let's write " Peace " on they foreheads:
they will know pure love that can be built with kind hands...
they will create a free world without barriers and flags! 

Written on 10/25/2016

Poem Details | by Ernest Robles |
Categories: poetry, poverty,


Although you may wander through life,
the brilliant one with her face hidden;
you are the most beautiful Soul;
a moment's perfection encasing you
within the warmest golden rays
of our Sun!

:: 02-18-2017 ::

Poem Details | by Jesse James Forster |
Categories: conflict, confusion, corruption, dark, death, earth, evil, grief, lost love, political, poverty, violence, war,

Human Nature

When chaos brings civilization to its knees 
From world wide pandemic critical disease
Or when a tsunami consumes everything beyond the shores
Swallowing the landscape and changing life as we know
Earthquakes shake the very foundation of this world
Or an astroid penetrates the cradle of birth
Bring us back to the primitive unleashing the truth
From the umbilical chord we are more ferocious than rabid wolves
And we will kill fellow man just to survive
Or just for the desire of taking ones life
What is compassion but a dead corpse on the road
Adrenalized by fear no time for sorrows
No need to worry about a world war zombie apocalypse 
We're already flesh eating monsters wearing dead skin
Most people panic when they lose internet or their lights
Autonomy is just a word most people can no longer define
And your money isnt worth *****so forget trying to buy
Your way out of cleansing while you run out of time
So learn to die well and hold your loved ones real tight
As you pray that your death will let you ascend to new heights
Beans, bullets, and bandaids are all that I'll need 
To keep population zero from taking over me
**** being hopeful could we really be so naive
To think that in these days we could some how find peace
When our mother earth gets restless and releases all of her worst
The only thing more destructive is our human nature

Poem Details | by Sarah Swanson |
Categories: care, child, childhood, leaving, loss, love, poverty,


Her eyes were big, brown, and bright
Her hair was dark, like the sky at night
Her skin was soft, her hands so small
She barely smiled, yet I was enthralled

Spinning her around and around and around
She never wanted to be put down
Safe in my arms, she falls asleep
Oh, how I wish she was mine to keep

And as she lays against my chest
I just pray that she will be blessed
That she won't stay where she is now
That she will leave, someday, somehow

I look down at her sweet, sweet face
So young, too young, to be in this place
This was never where she was supposed to be
No child should ever live out on the streets

To think that this precious, beautiful girl
Fights every day for her place in this world
That this may be the first time she's been cared for
That she may have never experienced love before

For though it seems impossible, or at least, improbable
Though I hadn't expected this to happen at all
I cannot deny what I have inside
In my heart, I find love of the truest kind

Love, real love, not a feeling or emotion
Not love that's concocted like some formula or potion
Not love that is shallow or only skin-deep
But love that is pure and strong and complete

For love is a choice, a conscious decision
Actions and words planned with careful precision
To show the depth, the width, the height
Of the care that you have for another's life

Now to my dismay, the time has come
For me to return this little one
Back to the place from where she came
And still, I don't even know her name

I relinquish my hold, and give her away
She stirs, and awakens, and begins to wave
I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks
As I say my goodbyes, then turn and walk down the street

It hurts so much! How can it be right
To leave her, not knowing where she'll sleep tonight?
The pain is too great! I just want it to end
I just want my heart to be whole again

I know I will healI know I will mend
I know that I will be whole again
But I am so thankful that I will have scars
So I will never forget the thief of my heart

Poem Details | by Andrew Crisci |
Categories: blessing, christmas, giving, joy, love, poverty,


Christmas has different meanings...
they can be spiritual in their degree,
or materialistic and these aspects
make up symbols of zest and glee!

We love this extravagant holiday rendering extreme joy,
but gifts and lights add many false thrills;
we should get rid of diseases and poverty:
deeply thinking of hunger pangs causing fever and chills!

Many empty stomachs groan and we don't hear them,
infants emit a loud cry and we choose to ignore them;
I'm very angry at the stubbornness of our greedy ways,  
we overlook their suffering while we feast at our tables!    

Let's think of those who go to sleep with aching bellies.
give all you have and save someone from dying;
be the giver and rejoice when they are singing:
giving with a sincere heart will multiply your blessings!

Christmas has different meanings....
the ones that are steeped in faith or those merely symbolic;     
I sit at the piano and play hymns;
has anyone else experienced inside a feeling so harmonistic?   

Poem Details | by curtis johnson |
Categories: appreciation, family, home, i love you, leadership, mom, poverty,

Mother, O Mother

Mother, O Mother

You were so sweet and gentle; so warm and so caring
You were drenched with heavenly drops of sweet honey.
Even when our lives were sad and cloudy,                                                    you filled it with hope and sunshine

You had many reasons to be cold and hard;
Many seasons to withdraw, and feast on sadness
You could have cursed the darkness, and given up.
You could have wept and pitied each day’s dawning

I remember your tears, but in you I saw no fears,                                           as you held us close through those lean years.
You dried your tears, and welcomed the sunlight
You reassured us that all things would be made right

O mother, it’s hard to believe that when daddy died,                                       we more than survived; and you were only thirty five
O mother, you were so young when daddy passed away
But you were so mature and wise, as you faced each day.
There were eleven of us, and not one of us went astray

O dear mother, you were a model of motherhood,
And you were well respected in all the neighborhood.
You were so gracious, always doing the best you could

O blessed mother, every thought of you makes me feel
So very happy and fortunate, to have known someone
As dear and special as you.

08102008 (PS Contest about "Mothers")

Poem Details | by Andrew Crisci |
Categories: beauty, fairy, french, history, marriage, military, poverty, romance, soldier, teenage, true love, war,

A Nook And A Storybook

Since early childhood storybooks of armored knights
riding beautiful horses held my fascination,
had I lived in that era of adventurous delights 
I would have joined them to get the same admiration.

It's the unknown the story of a knight
who met a peasant girl of ardent creed
in some unpleasant times of war and fright;
it's such a great story for us to read.
Alex de Roux was the Norman commander:
handsome and strong; his curly long hair was red,
his eyes were of soft blue, and his skin was fair
he was sent to Abella to conquer its land.
And riding on his white horse one afternoon 
he spotted a beautiful girl picking apples,
she had the features that made a soldier swoon:
big green eyes, long black hair and supple red lips.
Alex said something in Frankish expecting a response,
Silva looked at him and bowed if he were a seraphim, 
" No, I am a very humble knight, not a king, please rise! "
She did not quite understand the language, but obeyed him.
He pointed out to the stately castle on the distant hill,
" Look, that's my second home, I have built a sturdy fortress."
some profound words he spoke expressing his benevolent will,  
" I like to marry you soon and have ten children or less."

Silva tried to catch the meaning of every sentence,
and Alex replied by stretching out his two wide palms,
counting each single finger with extreme confidence..
then approaching her, he got lost in those pretty eyes.

Written on 4/23/2016  

Poem Details | by Bernadette Langer |
Categories: people, places, social, poverty, truth,

To Russia With Love

under the veil of equality 
it silently slithered 
feeding words of lies 
to those starved for truth 

and they swallowed 
them whole 
for they ached inside 
their hollow existence

were poverty thrived 
among classes 
they yearned to 

and so the promise 
breathed hope anew 
drowning capitalism 
and blinding democracy 

the veil was lifted 
all those who swore 
would be covered by 

and so the lie was told 
silently it took  
and individuality 

to now live within 
a regime 
that demanded 
and exercised its right
with cruelty and depravity 

lambs to the slaughter 
and so they went 
until reality dawned 

finding poverty still resided 
at their table 
with no means 
to fill the empty plates 

with food stamps 
their allotment gathered 
in tiny rooms of three 
for ten souls 

and the winter winds 
blew harsh 
across their discontent
revealing the truth 

as Stalin smiled 
Lenin laughed

well fed, well groomed 
as so very well kept 

voices cried out 
but disappeared 
into the darkened nights
of Siberian slumber 

and the carved walls 
assembled for protection 
trapped them 
in their own solitude 

with the twinkling lights 
from the Kremlin 
beaming upon the stone 
painting it in the color 
that would come to represent 
their ultimate demise 

and Lenin and  Stalin sang loudly 
to Russia with love...