Children of poor

Celebrations are rare

In the home of poor,

They struggle all life,

For means.....

Under thatched roof,

In their hovel,

On the mud coated floor,

In the Luxury of creeping creatures

Their children play,


Between the hole in the door,

They fix their eyes,

To gaze the sun,

Which never comes,

To greet .......


Air stinks,

To breathe,

Is an excercise,

In the creeks,

Where they live,


Worse they have food,

To feed one ,

In the family of four,


What they learn,

Is what they got from life,

Spite and no respite,

Distrust which life entrust,

Is the language of disgust,


Insolvent hopes,

Whimper and whine,

Roll in scarcity,

To let their hearth,

All fume and no flame,



In the hurricane of life,

They perish,

With no grace or solace,


In the pentintary of life,

Like rudiments,

Crawl in the vestibule of future,

With hope so bleak,

Tomorrow dies,

A poor life.