Oh these ugly bidding wars all so mean,
The flagrant show, glimpse of bulging wallets,
Loud trumpets along tight-fisted shrill din;
And auction call that louder ever gets.
Bit strange, this rush to rule at world's aid marts,
When world's rich unwilling to pay wages,
Vie still to come tops on the goodwill charts,
Oh this show off largesse but of pledges.
It is not unlike a beauty contest—
What with rivals out to show off figures—
Each a brag, boast, flaunting to feign his best,
Amid wide-mouth-eagers and fair-leaguers!
Yet, how much help comes from a feeling heart?
And how much mere display, demo and dash?
And what largesse would they willingly part?
What commitment would come in handy cash?
Aid, seldom parted, paid promptly as said,
Pledges have always fallen short of aid.
Yet, if that be the only way to give,
Well, something's better than none, I believe.
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Based on what happened following the recent world tsunami.
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Happenings | 02.01.05 |
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
How much help comes from a feeling heart? Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
The Pledges... not from feeling heart, from a puffed up head, thanks for liking it.