Dann Thomas

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Best Poem of Dann Thomas

Mother Of Calcutta

At Khalighat, in the temple of the house for the dying
When the night has slept through its darkening.
And the tired watchman's watch wane.
At that ungodly hour she again kneels in pain.
Hands clasped in prayer into the folds of her face,
To her God she so loved, and yet doubted His grace.

Bent over in humility the "Saint of the Gutters",
With an army of Charity's very own sisters,
Seek the unwanteds, unloved, uncared for
Societies scum and the poorest of the poor.
The crippled, the blind, the homeless, the beggars
Humanities garbage- the ...

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Come Out And Play

Come out and play
Come out and see the sun
Its seen millions like you
And much more to come.

Come and see the rain
As it waters a new life
Catch it, play with it,
Its given and taken lives.