1) Penury speaks…
Under the tree sycamore,
She lies threadbare,
lobed leaves, her rich bed,
what more is for her to shed?
she closes her sunken eyes
in state limpid, yet with tears,
a cursed living to pull through,
isolation as if in marginalized borough,
rain or sun, the tree protects,
she has no dreams to protract,
her last breath would be her ideal gift,
much solicited prayer in tout.
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1 comment:
Hello!
Great, powerful, thought provoking poem!
Thousands and thousands of people all over the world suffer from abject poverty, hunger, starvation and wretched existence.
They have not benefitted from economic growth. The rich have become richer and the poor have become poorer. There seems to be no solution.
We should do our bit to help them when we can.
Best wishes!
t
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