Humanitarian Poems









Print

Valid HTML 4.01 Transitional

My Hidden Voice

What Money Can't Buy

Now, why are you giving up all that you have,
For something that's not worth a cent?
And why are you feeling that you have to pay,
When you should, instead, pay the rent?

And why are you feeling a small tinge of guilt,
While others turning away?
And why are you feeling that you have to give,
While most are refusing to pay?

A shekel, a dollar, a token, a cent,
A fortune, a penny, a mint,
Whatever you have, they will take it from you,
Both folding and that with a glint.

You give what you have and you do what you can,
And still they say you must do more,
And then, before you have a chance to respond,
You give all that you have in store.

Yet money thrown madly won't do a damn thing,
If those who receive won't behave,
And though you may give all the money you have,
It still doesn't mean they'll be saved.

For money's a trinket, a cold thing to give,
When mostly they need a good friend,
To share in the good times, support in the bad,
To honour, protect and defend.

Your wealth is a symbol, that's all that it is,
But love is a door to your soul,
So give of your time and a bit of yourself,
And you and the world will be whole.

by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul


Creative Commons License
This work is licensed

To obtain permission to use this poem in a publication, please contact David Pekrul


Contents | Poems | Limericks | Free-Verse | Haiku | Sonnets | Short Stories and Narratives | Poetry by Tanna Lynn