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Hunger-focused Poems by Maryland Poets

Poem by Ann Bracken

9/15/2020

2 Comments

 
American Madonna
​
Hunger wears a face full of hope
like the girl on the magazine cover
cradling a loaf of white bread
as if it’s a miracle. Tonight she will
sleep with food in her tummy.

Hunger’s face is innocent 
like the little boy buying a corn-dog
at the corner store or his neighbor
who’s grateful for two plump strawberries
tucked in the family’s food box. 

Hunger tells the same story
sweeping across time and place
from Oklahoma’s Dust Bowl
to Mississippi’s Delta towns— 
Loss and desperation landing sucker-punches 
on families across America. 

Hunger’s face is weary 
like the fictional Rose O’Sharon
heavy with grief after birthing
her stillborn child. Her pain ripples 
through the air, palpable and raw 
like the fresh scar on her heart.

She seeks refuge from the rain
in an old barn, a boy offers
her a musty blanket. She spies 
an old man huddled in the corner 
gripped by hunger like a fist in his belly. 

Rose offers him the only gift she has
lying down next to him, baring her breast,
and sharing her milk.
Click on the file below to listen to Ann read her poem:
ann_bracken_poem.m4a
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File Type: m4a
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Ann Bracken has authored two poetry collections, No Barking in the Hallways: Poems from the Classroom and The Altar of Innocence, serves as a contributing editor for Little Patuxent Review, and co-facilitates the Wilde Readings Poetry Series. Ann advocates for arts-based interventions for mental health, education, and prison reform. 


2 Comments

Poem by Andrés Abella

9/1/2020

1 Comment

 
The harvest

Truth will be the seed
the brethren of the earth
encounter
droplets of a liquid sun
filling up all wells
the way that dreams
fill up a melody of illusion
The earth has remained
dry and crumbling
who would have imagined
that iron showers
could never bloom
a green of feasts
but rather bleed
an old despair?
Rich nations
let barrels of food
go to waste
like depth charges
exploding
in poor people’s faces.
Hunger is no longer tragic
just unbearably absurd
Come, climb the stairs
look up to the spheres
and find a comet
that even the blind can see
then stab the earth
slit its veins with love
and light and joy
and let the truth
begin anew
We will have bread
the field songs
will strum
a venerable earthquake
of memory
and we will remember
what sharing meant
because we’ll learn
to share again.
the_harvest_-_andrés_abella_august_2020.m4a
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Andrés Abella (born in Valparaíso, Chile, 1970) is a journalist, activist and poet. He lives in Takoma Park, MD, with his family. He studied English language and literature at the Pontifical Catholic University of Valparaíso, Chile, and Journalism at San Francisco State University, California. He worked as a journalist and news editor for more than 15 years in print and online media.
1 Comment

Poems by Laura Stewart Webb

8/4/2020

0 Comments

 
Freshman 10

first girl in the family to go to college
was hungry all year
often, for a smoke to put a coat
of nicotine over all-nighter pangs
of exam panic
dry-mouthed too many mornings
anonymous in lecture halls
following beer-pong night school
covetous of customers’ orders
waiting tables at the diner
consumed by plate envy
for syrup-soaked pancakes since
the currency of her free meal
was sacrificially
bartered for calculus tutorials
she might have gotten for her dimples
and a feigned interest in sci-fi
instead, she indulged
the same sweet tooth
her momma showed
for boys with candied flesh
no woman could ever bite deep
enough to sugarcoat their rinds
a binge that left her ravenous
to know if that extra weight
was freshman 10
or pregnancy pounds
then, by finals week, bloated with relief
when what she had to swallow next

left a mostly hidden scar
and a fat-lipped heart

TJ Maxx

What mom hopes I don’t remember about first-grade hunger:
how it gulped down even the lump of fear
caused by ketchup sandwich of silence and sirens
that last syringe stuck like a straw
in her bruised banana flesh.
I pretend now that I never slept dreamless
on a full belly, plump pillow in a foster family’s home
the nights she spent in rehab.
My eighth-grade pangs starved family pride:
I was the scavenger angel in evangelical service
of our lunch lady of the uneaten corn dog
nugget, green bean, cooked carrot and fruit cocktail
abandoned on trays of friends.
At home my brother and I gorged impotently
on ramen noodles, eager for mom’s McNugget pay-day
miracle.
Tenth-grade first job wages:
I stuffed my locker and bedside table
with red finger-tipped fruits
crunch and burn of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos
my pocket change tossed in the collection plate
for college and a car. Later was never. Now
was treating the three of us to fourth meal at Taco Bell
until we were sick of it, and I grew too big for hand-me-downs
used my employee discount on a larger size.

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Laura Stewart Webb is a keen and grateful member of the Southern Maryland community of poets who gather together to participate in workshops, open mics, and the joy and mystery of being human.  Laura writes on many topics but often returns to themes inspired by her work as a community educator in behavioral health.  Laura lives with an Irish Wolfhound named Fintan who has not given up trying to teach her everything he knows.

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Poem by Maritza Rivera

2/12/2020

0 Comments

 
El Pan de Cada Dia (Our Daily Bread, HERE is the version in English)
 
Se dice que la poesía es como el pan,
que alimenta el alma.
 
Pero a veces, como las buenas intenciones
y las oraciones, ¡no es suficiente!
 
Se ha comprobado que los niños
no aprenden cuando tienen hambre.
Fíjese en las bajas calificaciones de los estudiantes en nuestras escuelas.
 
El desayuno debe ser la primera lección
de cada día. Seguido por el almuerzo, 
y una merienda por la tarde antes
de la salida.
 
Las sondas gastro-nasales que alimentan
a los moribundos les obligan a seguir viviendo aun contra su voluntad
pero esto no dura para siempre.
 
Y aunque no hay tubos de alimentación
para los que viven, una sola comida
puede ser la diferencia entre la vida
y la muerte para muchos.
 
Sin embargo, mientras tantos mueren
de hambre, se desechan a diario
miles de libras de comestibles
en países tan prósperos como este.
 
¡Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!
Todos somos culpables por despreciar
las sobras y el pan viejo que, como la poesía, pueden alimentar a un pueblo.
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Maritza Rivera (Montgomery County, MD) is a Puerto Rican poet and Army veteran who has been writing poetry for over 40 years. She is the creator of Blackjack poetry and hosts the Mariposa Poetry retreat. Maritza aka Mariposa is the author of About You, A Mother’s War, 21: Blackjack Poems, and the Blackjack Poetry Playing Cards. ​

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Poem by Julie Fisher

7/13/2019

0 Comments

 
This Ridiculous Struggle

​
The yearning to pin the moth just so,
is the hungry ghost.
The dark of that unquenchable maw.
Monkey mind tells us we're stuck here.
 
Even as I bathe in the orange-y, pinkest sunset on my porch,
those children sit huddled
inside themselves.
Cold or hot, dirty, bored, dirty and of course hungry.
Both occur at the same time.
The sky is a marvelous wash of lingerie hues and mesa burning.
Each wrenched away baby
frenzied by so much absence.
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​Julie lives in Freeland, MD and says, “I start, make & point out things. I wonder how we got here. I live on a "farm" and herd kids & pets & groan at hubby's puns, often.”

0 Comments

Poem by Forestine Bynum

5/31/2019

1 Comment

 
From the Balcony by Forestine Bynum, Laurel
 
Overlooking my balcony, I often saw
A gathering of women and children
Mothers with babies tucked tightly in their arms
They were quiet, rather orderly
Not causing a disturbance, walkers passed by politely
Busying themselves as not to see, scurry to
Catch the bus or get to their cars
 
I saw women taking turns scavenging
Through a dumpster nearby
I hadn’t notice before, for food
The only sound heard was a tiny cry asking
Mommy, when will we get food
And a voice saying, Feed My People, Feed My People
And a mother’s soft voice replying
Tomorrow, tomorrow my child, I hope
To mor row, to mor row
 
By Forestine C. Bynum
Picture
Forestine Bynum is the author of Echoes: Voices from P.G. County Poets. More info here.

1 Comment

Zero World Hunger: Imagine by Aressa Williams

5/23/2019

0 Comments

 
Remember the story, “Stone Soup”?
Neighbors shared food that they had.
Carrots, cabbage, beans, peppers,
Enough soup for all prepared.
 
Plant thoughts for food abundance.
Imagine zero world hunger.
Wholesome meals grace all tables
One mind, same goal, we’re stronger.
 
Spirit-cousins band as one;
Repast so others eat and live.
Fruits, veggies cross distant seas.
Our grateful hands freely give.
 
Zero world hunger’s possible.
We are the “Stone Soup” tale.
Bring bread to the world’s table.
Global unity never fails.
 
(c) By Aressa Williams
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Retired English Professor and teacher consultant, Aressa wrote her first poetry book to earn a Girl Scout Badge for Creative Writing.  Aressa, a member of Pen in Hand, believes that writers perform "word magic" because they bring  invisible thoughts and feelings to light.

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Wake Up Call by Mary Rhodes

5/23/2019

0 Comments

 
(John 21: 15-17)           
Peter talking:                                                                                       
“Feed my sheep”, was how You put it. “Feed my lambs”, You said to me.
But Lord, how CAN I feed Your children amongst such greed and tyranny?
Those who have won't share their havings, those who hate won't love like You,
though You made them, gave them life, they will not do the things You do;
And I should know, Lord, I'm the one who once, our friendship, I denied;
I loved You, served You, but when they asked me,“Don't you know Him?” 3 times I lied.
But You gave me another chance, Lord, to share You as the Bread of Life;
food for body, soul, and spirit, hope for husband, child, and wife.
We must realize Your abundance here on earth is for ALL men;
shed our lust for things and power, for hoarding is the spawn of sin.
Not Enough... is not the culprit; Ignorance...it's not about;
Lack is caused by selfish people; with hearts of stone, they've kicked You out!
In this world of rich and plenty, Jesus, press us 'til we cry,
in our self-examinations, “Lord, please tell me, is it I
who've betrayed Your great commission?  Have I done enough to feed
this world's poor and starving people, overlooked by my own greed?
Open, please, our hearts to love them, humble us to make this right;
all together we can do this, shed our darkness, share Your light.
“Feed my sheep”, is what You told us, “Feed my lambs” speaks to us all.
Help us do Your loving, giving, and Thank You for this  
rake-up-take-up-shake-up-make-up, THANK YOU for this Wake-Up Call! 
 
(c) By Mary Steadman Rhodes

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Mary Steadman Rhodes is a Christian wife, mother, & grandmother living in Landover, Maryland.  She and her husband of 40+ years have been singing, composing, & writing for many years...and STILL have a lot to say!  ​

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Awakened by Rosemarie Law

5/23/2019

0 Comments

 
Mother always said that if she had only a single slice of bread, she would cut it
in eight equal pieces. That’s how many children her body nurtured into this world
and every day thereafter until her final breath ascended into the ether.
 
Of all the words she whispered, shouted, sang and cried
over all the thousands of days of my childhood, those stick most.
 
It dawns on me, now, she didn’t include herself in that equation.
 
For every star in our galaxy, there shines a mother, a father who has gone dreadfully
hungry. Many have fallen into the gaping mouth of graves after offering that
last bite of bread to their child. Their final act of love.
 
That is sacrifice.
 
We, of full stomachs,
we, whose wildest imaginations will never fathom starvation –
so little is asked of us:
 
A willingness to strip ourselves of the blinders that protect us from the squirm of discomfort
when we see a boy, a girl, a woman, a man clearly in need of basic nourishment.
 
But what can I do? Only one person of limited means?
 
Begin simply.
 
A sack of oranges.
A bag of apples.
A ham or chicken on special sale days.
A pot of soup for a struggling family.
This list could wrap itself around our planet.
 
We are not asked to solve the problems of the world,
simply to look at the slice of bread we hold each day,
break off a piece from whichever corner feels right.
 
Extend that open hand.
Open that awakened heart.
 
(c) By Rosemarie Law
Picture
Rosemarie Law (MiMi Zannino) is an author and performing artist. She researched and wrote the historical portrayal “Time-Travel with Emily Dickinson” which she has performed over 50 times.
EmilyDickinsonLive.com
GardenPartyMusic.com

0 Comments

Pitch In by Ladi Di

5/23/2019

1 Comment

 
People are hungry, yet people continue to
waste food.
Her meals were from partially eaten
sandwiches thrown in public trash
cans.
She watched a child throw away a sandwich
one bite out of it.
Getting sandwich from can immediately
would be her evening meal.

People are hungry, yet people continue to
waste food.
An apple, a pear, a peach, some cherries
Some grapes to help provide nutrition
To help curb appetite
Praying to God above, never to give up
Ferocious fight.

People are hungry, yet people continue to
waste food.
A project for many years, helping my Mother
Make sandwiches in our kitchen
with Family and Friends
Taking sandwiches to organizations, like
S.O.M.E, So Others Might Eat brings on
cheers, chants yea food is here.

People are hungry, yet people continue to
waste food.
Standing on Main Avenue in freezing cold
And snow, holding sign stating HELP ME
FEED MY CHILDREN, IF ONLY FOR ONE
NIGHT!!!

People are hungry, yet people continue to
waste food.
All across the world people die from hunger
 and malnutrition to ignore this plight would
 be a ridiculous selfish shame.

People are hungry, yet people continue to
waste food.
What can you do, what can I do, what can others do, to end this international plague?
The answer is blowing in the wind, doing
Something consistent, we can all PITCH IN.

People are hungry, yet people continue to
waste food.
 
(c) By Sylvia Dianne Beverly (“Ladi Di”)
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Sylvia Dianne Beverly (Ladi Di).
A collection of her work is housed at George Washington University's Gelman Library.  Ladi Di celebrated the 40th Anniversary of Host Grace Cavalieri, reading on her show "The Poet and the Poem" at the                                          Library of Congress Experience.
  You can contact Ladi Di here.

1 Comment
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    Hunger-focused Poems by Maryland Poets

    Creation of this section and publishing the works of Maryland poets was supported by the Maryland State Arts Council.

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    August 2020
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    Andres Abella
    Ann Bracken
    Aressa Williams
    Dick Epstein
    Forestine Bynum
    Julie Fisher
    Ladi Di
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    Maritza Rivera
    Mary Rhodes
    Rosemarie Law
    Sistah Joy

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  • Home
  • Hunger Poetry
    • Now more than ever! >
      • Now more than ever: Submitted poems
    • 2020 WFD Poetry Competition >
      • 2020 World Food Day - submitted poems
      • 2020 World Food Day Poetry Competition announcement
    • World Food Day Poetry Competition 2019 >
      • World Food Day 2019 - Submitted Poems
    • World Food Day Poetry Competition 2018 >
      • WFD 2018 - Submitted Poems
    • Maryland Poets
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  • 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
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  • Create
    • Prompts to help you get started
  • Contact us & Get involved!
    • Call to Action
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