NeniaArnaiz Dulom


I'm Too Many - Poem by NeniaArnaiz Dulom

I am a Beggar.
I sit at the portico of a church,
Under the roasting heat of the sun
And blinding rays that hurt my eyes,
With my arm stretch out with an open hand,
Begging you to drop a penny or a dime.

Across the street you can see me as well,
I wear the same face of poverty and despair,
Like the rest of me who are impoverished,
My decrepit body won't lie or hide my infirmities,
Even my tattered clothes show my distress.

I am Lost, a Penniless Traveler.
I am at a bus terminal the whole time,
Or at a pier's waiting lounge,
Watching every passenger goes by,
Looking for someone so generous and kind,
To free me from a fare I have none.

Taking my chance to finally find,
Someone to consider a Good Samaritan,
A kindhearted man or a woman,
Who can put back hope in my heart and mind,
That one day I can go home after a long time.

I am a Hungry Scavenger.
I am here in front of a restaurant,
Enviously watching your every munch,
A set of sumptuous food and drink,
My eyes covet to have a bite and a sip,
While my stomach growl in torment.

Garbage and food debris are not enough,
To fill my heart and belly's appetite,
I long to have a decent dinner or lunch,
Forget about breakfast or midnight snack,
I never like to eat so early or late at night.

Oh how I wish I could eat at a nice dining place,
At a banquet or party, or just a family treat,
With sparkling silver spoon and fork in my hand,
Savoring the food for my heart desires,
Remembering the taste and the smell till I die.

I am a Homeless person, a Vagrant.
I lie all day and night,
Like a lifeless and ugly thing at your sight,
On the side of a street across your house,
On a parking lot of buildings or shops,
Or on a conducive and relaxing to rest parks.

I lounge on a bench,
Sprawl on a lawn,
Stretch out my tired body on a concrete ground,
Like how you repose on your luxurious bed,
Though mine is a hard and cold pavement.

I am a Garbage Collector.
I push my cart all day,
Going around places to search,
Rushing up to your trash can to dig,
Hoping to find something useful to sell,
To buy myself a day's meal.

Your junks are my life and living,
If you will not throw something worth selling,
I would be dead of hunger and thirst,
I hope you know how important your garbage is,
To somebody like me who exists because of your rubbish.

Topic(s) of this poem: love, people, sympathy

Form: Verse Paragraph


Poet's Notes about The Poem

Sympathy for poor people around

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Poem Submitted: Friday, May 27, 2011

Poem Edited: Sunday, June 12, 2016


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