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Posts Tagged ‘Wealth’

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This paper before me is worth more than gold,
Than all of the stocks that are bought and are sold.
It is not a map where an X marks the treasure
Nor is it a ticket to life’s greatest pleasure.
It is not a sketch by Picasso, van Gogh,
Nor numbers that won the world’s richest Lotto.
I have that which gives me more than the world’s wealth:
My doctor just gave me a clean bill of health.

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photo by Marcelo Mokrejs at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/misbtmE/Money+series+4

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

 

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He’d lost some weight; his skin stuck to his skull
As plastic wrap will fit each hollow place,
And shape itself ’round all that’s sharp or dull.
His bone was now his hair, and cheek, and face.

My presence did not wake him from a nap.
I touched him, though, since consciousness I sought,
And he, still fresh within that thinnest wrap,
Was crisp like lettuce in his speech and thought.

His packaging I did not sorrow o’er;
Though frail as butterflies, he had his health.
Instead, I left, exulting all the more
Since he was in his mind and thus his wealth.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

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……………………Labor

We have fed you all for a thousand years,
And you hail us still unfed,
Though there’s never a dollar of all your wealth
But marks the workers’ dead.
We have yielded our best to give you rest,
And you lie on crimson wool;
For if blood be the price of all your wealth
Good God, we ha’ paid in full! 

There’s never a mine blown skyward now
But we’re buried alive for you;
There’s never a wreck drifts shoreward now
But we are its ghastly crew:
Go reckon our dead by the forges red,
And the factories where we spin.
If blood be the price of your cursed wealth
Good God, we ha’ paid it in! 

We have fed you all for a thousand years,
For that was our doom, you know,
From the days when you chained us in your fields
To the strike of a week ago.
You ha’ eaten our lives and our babes and wives,
And we’re told it’s your legal share;
But if blood be the price of your lawful wealth,
Good God, we ha’ bought it fair.

 

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………….
Wealth

If all we hold and all we touch
Determines rich or poor,
Then those who live in little huts
Are sore in need, for sure.

If pedestals and public praise
Are measures of a man,
He’s poor when fickle turn away,
And he’s an also-ran.

If men are rich by length of days,
Then newborn babes are broke,
As well as those in early days
Felled by Grim Reaper’s stroke.

But if there is a something else
That all can have or not,
A something that’s the greatest pearl,
Then that’s man’s Camelot.

Then, fame and fortune fade away.
For, lost is their allure.
Perhaps the one in hut is rich;
The one in palace, poor.

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photo by Stella Bogdanic at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/ni0vxMq/african+hut+2

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

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