The big dreams
Of small time hope
Walks the capitals
Streets of stone
Its burning eyes
Pours utter contempt
Its cruel judgement
Humanity spent.
The minimum wage
Survive not live
Its millionaires
Mostly keep not give
Flash cars
Speed on by
Eyes never meeting
The hungry by.
The foodbank
Or homeless shelter
Burning sun
Or freezing Winter
More poverty
The gap between
Rich and poor
Too extreme.
-
Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: June 25th, 2026 01:31
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 63
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Syd, Jerene, DLewis88
Offline)
Comments6
A true write N. Can it be also - the gap between two buses arriving? - millions of miles, that is! lol.
light years !!! lol
lol.
Very nicely portrayed the state of today's world. Sad and poignant it calls out for a change.
so true, thanks for read much appreciated
You are very welcome Norman
Tale as old as Time, and still uncured in the 21st century.
so very true, thanks for read, always much appreciated
Most welcome 🙏🏻🕊️
Norman, this is a sobering reflection, my friend. The contrast between those who struggle simply to survive and those who pass by untouched gives the poem its emotional weight. Thought-provoking work. 🌹🖤🙏
many thanks my friend, always much appreciated
Spot on! Very accurate and very well written 👏 👏👏
- Syd
thanking you always much appreciated
Very true words Norman, thos who have enough and even more for themselves just do not help those in need.
Andy
spot on my friend, thanking you much appreciated
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