Luke Easter

Rookie - 50 Points (Cleveland, Ohio)

Poor People - Poem by Luke Easter

To show the child he’s blessed a wealthy father took his son on a trip,
Not to pleasurable exotic islands, ski slopes or on a fancy cruise ship,
The extremely rich dad decided on opening a never before seen door,
This dude would expose to his son the opposite of their lives, the poor.

Papa owned acres of land, apartments, office buildings far and wide,
Maybach Mercedes, tailored Italian suits, a Rolex he wore with pride,
Farm land with cattle, horses, sheep, lakes far as the eye could see,
It was where they’d spend a few days with a far less fortunate family.

Upon their return home the father asked his son, 'how was the trip? '
He was surprised to see a huge smile spread across his boy’s lips,
'It was great, Dad.' 'Did you see how poor people live? ' “For sure! ”
“What did you learn? ” “Well, to start out we have 1 dog they have 4.”

“We have a pool going to the garden they have a creek with no end,
Yeah! Neither do they know how wide it is or even where it begins,
We swam, chased frogs, caught fish, watched chickens run from hens,
Stayed up late roasting marsh mellows & hot dogs, playing pretend.”

“And where we have imported lanterns to light up our yard at night,
They have very few trees, the night time stars shine twice as bright,
We have servants who serve us while they are serving many others,
Every one’s so friendly it’s like a family reunion of sisters & brothers.”

“We have walls to protect us with robot walking, angry looking men,
But their protection is nature and a multitude of wonderful friends,
Working together during the day happy as people I’ve never known,
My first sad moment was when you said it’s time to pack & go home.”

“Sunday morning you were sleep, I went to church, what a choir, ”
I recognized most of the singers from Saturday night’s camp fire,
Did you ever know about the guy who died, nailed to the cross? ,
So, what did the preacher mean, are we the ones who are lost? ”

“Exactly who is this Jesus fellow, was Christ his last name or first,
And what kind of Father would allow his son to suffer such hurt,
The beating he took, by his stripes, I didn’t even know I was sick,
I definitely have to check this out, sounded real, not like a trick.”

“Kind of confusing trying to understand something I never heard,
Calvary, salvation, faith, I’ve already forgot most of those words,
Why do people shout, run around & pat each other on the back?
Crying and hugging each other, I think I want some more of that.”

“Thanks dad, you’re the greatest, showing me how poor they are,
Now, when I grow up and leave home I won’t have to go very far,
Wasting time to look and search or seek real love and happiness, ”
And instead of shaking papa’s hand, on his cheek he planted a kiss.

w/an Unknown Author

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Poem Edited: Thursday, September 1, 2011

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