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Waste Printable Version PRINTABLE VERSION
by Samuel, United Kingdom Jul 31, 2005
Poverty   Poetry

  


I heard of a man who had a pair of shoes
Into the bin they went because of a scratch
I heard of a boy who walked a thousand miles
He was just seven …. He had no shoes.

I heard of a Lad of had a rich plate
He left it out all day, then threw it all away
I heard of a mother who woke up very late
Her children were crying because they hadn’t ate.

I heard of this Lady who wanted a lemonade
She got a glass and took a sip, and said “oh I hate that taste”
I heard of a girl who fell deep into a well
She died that day, but there’s none to blame
Except a lasting pain of Thirst

I hear of people each and everyday
Who live and practice a religion of waste
Never seeming to realise
The value in their world of give and take
If for one second
You changed your ways
Maybe we can effect a change
But start by not letting the little you have
To go to Waste!





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Writer Profile
Samuel


I'm 26 years old.
And this is my creed.
My voice is a tool in destiny's toolbox.
My words are the ammo of providence's slingshot.
My thoughts are the paths in fate's journey,
My intentions projections of success divine.
I write because I choose to speak
of the things the cause the world to spin.
I write because I can
and i believe my words will someday make an impact.
I'm not an agent of change as some many conclude or think.
I'm just the wind that blows and spreads the forest fire.
Join me and together we can walk to destiny's dream.

Love to all
I'm not a poet
I'm just me
Comments


interesting
Avenida Stewart | Oct 17th, 2005
.......... after the first stanza i cud have predicted your concepts, but ur wrds were warm, and truthful.

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