Poverty: A Curse Or A Boon Poem by Aftab Alam

Long ago there was a king,
Sober, sublime and sincere,
One Saturday night, came an angel,
'Thou hath given a wish that ye can,
Keepeth it forever—ordain by Lord, '

Quite for a moment—then said the king,
'O' Holy Angel, would you come next night?
I have to think and discuss with my coterie,
As ye brought a handsome lucky lottery,

Why not, take your own time, you take,
But bear in mind, only secluded wish,
If ye committed a mistake, ye will miss,
Be calm and cool, mind it—no mistake,

That night King lost his slumber,
Went to the Queen and winked,
Thou art be a Queen forever—
I have been rewarded a wish-my Miss,

He groped many tricks to be a King-
He completely changed himself with ring,
Of greed that bred evil within him,
He planned to have the wish with whim,

Next Saturday the Angel came and asked,
Your wish I shall be keeping in that pot-
You may keep it in a safe place, it's hot,
Okay—I will do as you wish my Master,

I wish the pot should be filled with poverty,
‘Cause poverty don't have liberty,
I will keep it, into the untrodden region of mind,
There's no one to see or can ever trace or find,

Angel lifted the hand and gifted with opened palm—
Shouted - -Be, ….It is yours now, you can see,
Angel disappeared... on that morning poor appeared,
A device to rule and cheat— is the only poverty,

Since then—It became the ruling system-continues
Tell me—Who will eradicate the poverty and why?