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Hunger Poems

You are encouraged to read the poems posted here and elsewhere on the

Poetry X Hunger website, to look  
at 
the historic accounts of hunger,

famine and starvation, or consider the ​prompts suggested and then...

​write some poetry about hunger.
 

Poem by Robert Fleming

11/11/2020

1 Comment

 
Hunger Senryu

no human flesh left
myself cannibalism left
teeth left two toes left

Picture
Robert Fleming lives in Lewes, DE, USA.  He is a member of the Rehoboth Beach & Eastern Shore Writer’s Guild.  In 2019, he was nominated for a Lambda Literary Award, as a contributor to the poetry anthology Stonewall Legacy.   In 1983, he won a US national student journalism award for his review of a Duran Duran concert in the Brandeis University student newspaper The Justice.

1 Comment

Poem by Lindsay Barba

11/11/2020

0 Comments

 
Ain’t no such thing as a free lunch

On the picket line, we bring Daddy
and the other teachers a bucket 
of KFC. There’s no line drawn 
in white across the blacktop like 
I expected there to be. Daddy stands 
with Mrs. Childers and Mr. Watson 
in jeans and T-shirts. The only one 
not looking funny out of dress clothes 
is Jerry, the Custodian, his coveralls
still coated in dirt. Daddy says 
the school board is close to giving 
up and giving in, maybe one week
more. It’s a good thing, too, he says
softer, because it’s no fun playing
poor. I don’t think he knows Mommy 
came with me last week to my school, 
stood in the hall with Mrs. Mulgrew 
as I took my seat in homeroom. 
Her head was bowed, lips pursed, 
like when our old Labrador was put 
to sleep. Now I spend mornings 
on my own line with the kids from 
public housing. Our eyes down, 
hands open, cheeks blazing,
the rest of the school 
staring, 
whispering, 
knowing,
we won’t eat today
without our tokens. 
​

Click on the file below to listen to Lindsay read her poem:
aint_no_such_thing_as_a_free_lunch.m4a
File Size: 632 kb
File Type: m4a
Download File

Picture
Lindsay Barba is a grant writer by day, poetry writer by night. She is a lifelong Northeast Ohioan and resides in Akron with her cat, Bundesliga.

0 Comments

Poem by Philip Brent Harris

11/2/2020

2 Comments

 
Not Him
Let‘s walk among the crowds downtown,
On an average morning,
Hectic and harried, growing denser.
Hurry along now,
Past a doorman at a four-star hotel,
Past a homeless man.
A women arrives in a dark sedan.
Every line screams privilege.
Don’t step on his filthy blanket,
Don’t look him in the eye,
As the door man helps her, “This way, ma’am,”
Handing her from the car.
He puts her luggage on a cart,
Calls for a bellhop,
Runs interference as she scurries inside.

Hide the truth; avert your eyes,
Though we all share the same skies.

The doorman glares, again,
At this visible wreck of a man,
Flips open his smart phone,
Calls the non-emergency number, again.
He has it on speed dial.
Finished, he says, “C’mon man, give me a break.”
The homeless man ignores him,
(They’ve played this game before)
Sitting in the sun,
His back against the wall.
The night’s chill still
Has not left him
And rich guilt has only
Brought a couple of bucks,
And change.
Still not enough
For a cup of coffee
And a pack of cigarettes.

Hide the truth; avert your eyes,
Though we all share the same skies.

Cigarettes still a gnawing hunger.
Yet, she cannot smoke
In her room,
Not in this hotel, this city.
Should she care
That her craving is mirrored
By a marginalized man,
For the same purpose?
Far from the same reason.
She worries that she won’t
Fit into her designer sheath tonight.
He worries that he won’t
Beg enough to eat tonight.
And, at this moment,
They both stay at the same hotel.

Time to move, time to move,
On the street for lack of love.

The man stands and stretches,
Flashes his gap-tooth smile at the doorman,
Who ignores him.
Gathering his things close, in ritual,
The man carefully rolls his blanket,
Stuffs it in his duffle.
So small a place
To contain a man’s world:
Past and present,
Hopes and heartaches,
Dreams and disappointments,
Vanished spirit,
And the picture.
Carefully wrapped and
Near the top,
Of her,
Wavy long brown hair
A twinkle in her eye,
For him.
How trite, he thinks,
Yet true.

If I lost my love
Or she were taken,
I would wander through my days
Forsaken.
Bereft of heart
And reason

I would walk down city streets,
Looking for a sign,
A laugh, a word
A snatch of song.
My face and my soul
Withered, wrinkled,
Unwashed, uncaring and untouched.

The woman waits now
In the lobby.
She has changed
Her blouse and shoes.
A man enters,
Italian suit and style.
She smiles at him
walking toward her.
They embrace.
As over his shoulder
She sees the homeless man,
Head down.
Walking slowly
Away.

She pulls back and says something
To the man she’s with.
He pulls out his wallet,
Hands her a bill,
Then another,
At her look, angry, wounded.
She hurries then.
The man says wait.
Toward the door, solace,
Heedless,
Her high-heeled sandals
Make it hard to run.
Nevertheless, she
Catches the man on the street.
He stops,
Hearing the sound of her heels.
She takes his sleeve, tentative,
Tugs,
Presses the bills
Into his hand,
Turns away.

“Thank you,” he says
To her retreating back,
And then looks.
The money,
A fifty and a twenty.
“I can’t,” he starts to say,
Turning around.
If she heard him,
She doesn’t show it.

The sting of pride,
Thought long forgotten
Spurred him
To reject a small fortune.
His good fortune.
He’s yet to lose his reason.
Hard lessons taught him,
He can’t eat pride.

“Hey, lady,” he shouts,
“Thank you.”
She almost seems
To miss a step.
So swiftly, he’s uncertain
And she continues on,
Into the lobby, gone.
He slowly turns,
Continues walking,
Stuffing the bills deep
Into the pocket of his first shirt,
The one deepest inside
Of the four he wears.
He shakes his head
Then shuffles on.

And both this woman and man,
Both bewildered,
Rich and poor,
Will eat well this night.
Only one
Will sleep well.
It will not be him.



Click on the file below to listen to Philip read his poem:
not_him.mp3
File Size: 6742 kb
File Type: mp3
Download File

Picture
Philip Brent Harris is a poet, philosopher, satirist, essayist, fine artist, digital  artist, and occasional photographer. He has a BA in Film Studies, with a screenwriting emphasis and has written over a dozen screenplays, some with his partner, Jasmina Bojic of Stanford University. After their partnership dissolved he had a five-year hiatus from writing. Shortly after he began oil painting, he still felt an itch he could not scratch. He felt compelled to respond to the Newtown shootings and wrote a satire modeled on Jonathon Swift’s A Modest Proposal, called An Immodest Proposal, purporting to advocate for universal gun ownership. After that, the damn broke and he has written constantly since then, much of it verse. This surprised him, since he thought it a form he had finished with in Junior High School. He has a novel under review at two major publishers and hopes to add the title author to his list.

2 Comments

Poems by Don Hamaliuk

11/2/2020

2 Comments

 
A LITTLE BIT OF SHAME
 
Hey you; stuck on the street, with not a care in the world
Your hair all in knots and your nails long and curled
I have pity for you and a little bit of shame
So busy with my life, I don’t even know your name
 
If you ask me for change, I might pull out my money
I’ll hand over so little, it’s not even funny
I am so healthy and strong and successful today
I wonder what it’d take, for me to be your way
 
If you were my child, so lonely and hopeless
I would do all I could, to get you out from that mess
But my children are successful and I’m doing just fine
I guess I don’t have to worry, if the worry’s not mine…
MUCH TOO BUSY EATING
 
I’m enjoying a second helping and yet another drink
My plate needs my attention, little time to stop and think
We’ll be throwing out the leftovers; our fridge is overflowing
So I’ll just keep on eating, even though my stomach’s showing
 
Someone needs to finish it, it seems like such a waste
So many different flavors, I’ve lost my sense of taste
Here comes another spoonful, I just need to open wide
The last one was kind of mushy; this one’s crunchy fried
 
I should start a diet, when I empty out my pantry
But there’s a stock of 40 days, I need to keep it handy
I’m addicted to going shopping; I get there every day
And the restaurant around the corner, has an excellent buffet
 
It breaks my heart to think, that someone’s going hungry
Living on the street, or from a weather ravaged country
The food that I am wasting, could feed a family or two
But I’m much too busy eating, so what am I to do

Click on the file below to watch Don read one of his poems:
movie_on_2020-10-12_at_11.45_am.mov
File Size: 66808 kb
File Type: mov
Download File

THE PAIN OF FOODLESS HUNGER
 
My hunger is quite different; my stomach feels no pain
My longing is for finer things, possessed in capital gain
My next meal is not concerning; it’s at my beckoned call
My options almost endless, at the food court in the mall
 
A search for life giving sustenance, is never on my mind
I’m addicted to salt and sugar and all those things refined
I almost never check the weather; it’s of no concern to me
The conditions are mostly perfect; anywhere I choose to be
 
I can travel almost anywhere; my passport’s up to date
I always book a five star lodge; the service is just great
Free to talk about anything, to all people that I know
I’m connected through my cell phone, everywhere I go
 
I’m not saying my life is perfect, but it is pretty good
I’m free to think and do, anything I think I should
At times I feel so selfish and a little embarrassed too
But to feel the pain of foodless hunger, I haven’t got a clue
Picture
Don Hamaliuk writes, entertains and although can be serious, has an over indulging appetite for humour and is continually searching for the lyrical magic of fun, frolic and imagination.…. Knowing everyone is vulnerable to our daily pressures, he feels a kinship to lost souls, volunteering and donating at our local Hope Mission.

2 Comments

    Suggestions & Ideas

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  • Home
  • Art Auction to Alleviate Hunger
  • Hunger Poetry
    • Hunger Poems
    • World Food Day Poetry Competition >
      • 2021
      • 2020
      • 2019
      • 2018
    • Maryland Poets
    • International Poets
  • About
    • About the Initiative
    • Initiative Founder
    • Advisory Board
  • News & Blog
  • Young!
    • Poems by Young Poets
    • Videos
    • Materials for Teachers
  • Library
    • Extent of Hunger >
      • Global Hunger: Progress & Challenges
      • Hunger in the US
    • Historic Accounts of Hunger >
      • Africa
      • The Americas
      • Asia
      • Europe and Russia
    • Historical Poems
    • Interviews
    • Recent highlights
  • Contact/Submit/Take Action
    • Submission Guidelines
    • Call to Action
    • Resources & Donations >
      • Global resources
      • US resources
      • Maryland resources