Tag Archives: poem about charity

Smart Wooing

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Smart Wooing

He met her on the parkway where she sold her sweet confections
in a lot where merging roads made their first connections.
He, too, sought a connection for he found her very fine
as he viewed her from his place at the end of a long line

of some who sought her pastries, but others who sought more.
Clearly, not the only man who’d felt his heart to soar
when he viewed her classic beauty, he had known at once that she
was the perfect partner to balance on his knee.

And though his first  reaction was to woo her with dramatic
declarations of his love, he was more pragmatic.
When finally it was his turn, he simply bought each bit
of confectionary she had left and asked her help with it.

So as other hopeful suitors had to fade away,
there being  no excuse for all of them to stay,
he asked if since his car was small, if she could deliver
to the homeless shelter that was down there by the river.

And then if she wanted, she could even stay
to see the excitation as he gave the sweets away.
The occasion was his birthday and he thought the greatest lift
that he could get in celebrating was to give this gift.

And so he got into his car and she followed after,
stayed for the party afterwards, enjoying all the laughter.
You might guess, he won the maiden, for it’s no surprise
that sometimes in giving, one wins the greatest prize.

Prompt words today are partner, connections, homeless, pragmatic
diplomatic and parkway.

Christmas in a Modern Age

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Christmas in a Modern Age

All around the town and all around the parish,
folks put up decorations wherein they laud and cherish
the Christ child and his mother and his holy birth
then put up lights and tinsel to show the joy and mirth
with which they remember all he represents,
and then they go a-caroling, these ladies and these gents,
overlooking other pilgrims in their present.
Dealing with such immigrants in real time is not pleasant.
They’d slam the door and relegate them to their horrid fate,
for generosity and charity is not the mode of late.
Religion is much easier when practiced from afar,
so those in need of shelter will not find our doors ajar.

 

The prompts today are joy, tinsel and cherish.

A Misanthropic Anti-Creed

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Version 2

The assignment was to write a 6-line alphabet poem that started each line with a letter of the alphabet in a 6-letter sequence.  I.E. abcdef, qrstuv, etc.  Being a creature of excess, I used the entire alphabet, forwards and backwards, ending with a final Z to boot, since the title began with an “A.”  Please note that this is the cynical rant of a misanthrope—not necessarily my own view.  And this is the only photo I could find in my album that smacked of high society.  Actually, it’s a photo of me and my date for the junior prom.

A Misanthropic Anti-creed

After all is said and done,
brotherhoo is not much fun.
Cliques are just a machination
Dumbing down imagination. 
Each misanthrope must find his own
Final method to disown
Galas thrown to feed the poor
Hawking excesses they abhor.
In jewels, ladies you could die of,
Jostling to catch the eye of
Kings of minor countries or
Lords who are the things of lore.
Meanwhile, gents in tux and tie
Nod to try to catch the eye
Of that next lady in Dior
Possessed of means to feed the poor.
Quickened now, they move to kill,
Ready to restore their till.
Society’s main charity
Trying for a parity
Under the understanding that
Verisimilitude is boring.
What’s important is just scoring
Xcess being all the norm
Yielding to those who most conform.
Zero, then, goes to the poor.
You must admit, they are a bore.
Xtravagence is what they come for.
Widows they won’t waste a crumb for.
Very likely that the starving
Urgently needing  this feast’s carving
Taste not one small bite of it,
Still hungry now in spite of it.
Rich charity spends what’s allowed on
Quality that draws the crowd on.
Pheasant under glass costs more.
Only beans left for the poor. 
Not a charitable hope
Mars ponderings of our misanthrope.
Let not one charitable thought
Knit his brow.With doubts it’s fraught.
Jarring thoughts are all he thinks
In between ironic winks.
Hear well the stories he might tell—
Gory threats of burning hell
For that well-heeled society
Eating up the profits of
Doubtful fund raisers of love.
“Charitize” to feed the poor,
But really serve their own needs more.
Ask the misanthrope at the door.
Zero is left to feed the poor!!!!

The dVerse Poets prompt is to write a 6 line alphabet phone, using 6 letters in sequence to begin lines.  Here is the link: https://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=dversepoets&postid=12Sep2018&meme=12493

Hesitation

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Hesitation

As I recite my Sunday Psalms,
two butterflies alight like balms
upon the leper’s outstretched palms.

Thus nature intervenes and calms
the remainder of my qualms.
I fill the beggar’s hands with alms.

 

The prompt word today was “qualm.”