Neither have I measured the life with coffee spoon
Nor did hips ever become a drum to beat, at noon
Cruel hunger like autumn paved the path for spring
I dreamed; for empty tummy within the poverty ring.
I measured life with tear full tumbler like a gambler
Breathe stucks up on stake and eyes and mind blur
Initially Lord gave me poverty and then thought
Now held pen with pain, for you, poems, I brought.
Whether you read or not, poems, here on poem hunter
I will write, so as to ease myself and my agony, for barter
Beautiful poem on poverty..Please continue writing. We will read, as long as there in PH.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Whether you read or not, poems, here on poem hunter I will write - Fine.