Hunger
A poem about the inadequacy of luxury
There, to my right are candy jars
With other anxious children peeking in,
In hopes that they’ll be given one
For free. They’re chained behind their iron bars
Of poverty. They quickly thin
Into their skeletons and promptly stun
The well-fed brute that comes along
And takes a photograph or two before
Becoming one of the elite
Who’s praised with words and fame and raptured song
And cares not little, cares no more
Of bones he’s long forgotten on that street
Where millions stood like me but thought
To give no more than candy to
Those hungry kids. I gave them just a few
And truly they were glad I’d bought
A luxury beyond them. Still, we knew
That candy does not silence hunger.
If foolish, if fed -
Not wise, not dead.
Experiences unite us. I believe words can provide these experiences. The Poet is just one of many ways to share them.
The Poet fuses my reality and imagination using rhythm and rhyme.
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