Poem by Alexa Gonzalez
My hunger isn’t for me,
But everything I see
Where is the equity?
Arriving in America you’ve reached the promised land,
But who bears the consequences of our growing food demand
While families choose where to go to eat
I hear stomachs growling,
Is this defeat?
I look at America, disgust on my face
Generating 16 billion pounds of food waste
Through degradation after degradation
A little colony turned global nation
When children screamed their hunger
we fought over aid
Through famines and food insecurity
politicians and diplomats turned a blind eye to get paid
Is my hunger unrecognized?
Like the babies who cry for milk,
Their malnutritioned mothers can’t provide
Kids scrape their plates, asking for more
They can’t just go to the nearest store
I look around, does anyone care?
Didn’t we cause these problems???I despair
It’s hardly fair
Through the Green Revolution and pesticides
Mother Earth silently screamed her protest
Hoping some scientist would come along and notice
Can we feed 8 billion people or will our land simply give out
Next time you’re at the store it’s something to think about
Endless supermarkets, buy one get one free
People are hungry
See the discrepancy?
I hunger for change.
Alexa Gonzalez is a UC Davis undergraduate studying International Agriculture Development and Gender Studies with a minor in Community Development. She has a passion for sustainable agriculture, environmental justice and gender equity. She hopes to do the Peace Corps after college and spend her life traveling and working with communities to combat climate change through sustainable agriculture practices.
Poem by Kayla Franklin
Poem "The Hunger Inside Me" was written on a note by a young poet Kayla Franklin. Klick on the file below to see it.
Kayla Franklin is a Third Grade poet in Connecticut.
Hambre, aquella que no hace ninguna distinción
Sin importar idioma, edad, o color
La sensación que come nuestras entrañas sin compasión
Para muchos, es el motivo de su dolor
El sueño más cruel, es el de aquellos que duermen para olvidar
Que su estómago ruge, cual león enfurecido
Y entre lágrimas les toca desahogar,
el sufrimiento de sentir un estómago destruido.
El pequeño destello de luz en un día lleno de oscuridad
es aquel dulce corazón, que comparte algo de pan;
aquel que intenta comprender esa necesidad
y el alma hambrienta intenta apaciguar.
¿En verdad creen que esto se debe tomar a la ligera?
¿Ignorar a la persona que en agonía desespera?
Alimento limpio, nutritivo y seguro,
no es una opción, es un derecho.
Que sean atendidas las personas en apuro
Y que no solo sea una promesa, sino un hecho.
Levántense, gigantes que duermen al ver la necesidad.
Que se acabe ya la falta de comprensión y crueldad.
Que sean atendidos los sollozos de este pueblo
Dios interviene para que haya un arreglo.
Así que seamos consientes y ayudemos a todo el que podamos en esta tierra,
y juntos contra el hambre, ganemos esta guerra.
Hunger, the one that makes no distinction
Regardless of language, age, or color
The feeling that eats our guts without compassion
For many, it is the reason for their pain
The cruelest dream is that of those who sleep to forget
That his stomach roars like an enraged lion
And between tears they have to vent,
the suffering of feeling a destroyed stomach.
The little flash of light on a day full of darkness
it is that sweet heart, that shares some bread;
the one who tries to understand that need
and the hungry soul tries to appease.
Do you really think this should be taken lightly?
Ignore the person in agony in despair?
Clean, nutritious and safe food,
It is not an option, it is a right.
That people in distress be cared for
And that is not just a promise, but a fact.
Arise, giants who sleep when you see the need.
Let the lack of understanding and cruelty come to an end.
Let the sobs of this town be attended to
God intervenes so that there is an arrangement.
So let's be aware and help everyone we can on this earth,
and together against hunger, let's win this war.
Click on the file below to watch the video:
Heyssel Mariel Molinares Sosa, curso el año Duodécimo sección 2 Desarrollo Agropecuario en el Centro Tecnico Vocacional Pedro Nufio, tiene 17 años
Le gusta mucho tocar la guitarra, hablar en público y le encanta servir en su Iglesia: "
Hace 6 años empece a escribir poemas, y me encanta hacerlo ya que es una manera en la que expreso mi pensar, mis emociones, la manera en la que encuentro belleza a mi alrededor, entre cosas.
Para escribir el poema "Hambre" quise ponerme en el lugar de las personas que sufren a causa de no tener acceso al alimento necesario, investigue sobre el tema y sentí dolor en mi corazón al ver la situación en la que se encuentran muchas personas, y quise a través de mi poema expresar lo que esas personas están sintiendo, y de esa manera con ayuda de Dios comencé a escribir y me encariñe en especial con este poema, porque considero que es un tema de suma importancia, que despierta la empatia en cada uno de nosotros, y es esencial la búsqueda de soluciones para estas personas que sufren a causa de la hambruna."
Heyssel Mariel Molinares Sosa is in the twelfth year Section 2 Agricultural Development at the Pedro Nufio Vocational Technical Center, she is 17 years old.
She really likes playing the guitar, speaking in public and serving in her Church.
Six years ago she started writing poems. She loves doing it because it is how she expresses her thinking, her emotions, and how she finds beauty around her.
According to Heyssel Mariel: "To write the poem "Hunger" I wanted to put myself in the place of people who suffer because of not having access to the necessary food. I investigated the subject and I felt pain in my heart when I saw the situation in which many people find themselves. I wanted through my poem to express what those people are feeling, and in that way, with the help of God, I began to write and became especially fond of this poem. I consider it to be an extremely important topic, which awakens empathy in each one of us, and finding solutions for these people suffering from famine is essential."
Poem by Joseph "Jagai" Banda
I feel pain
It hurts when I wake up in the morning hungry
Knowing that there won’t be breakfast for me today
That means I have to go to school without eating anything
I feel pain
I feel pain
I feel pain when I don’t eat anything in the evening
I feel sad when am thinking what tomorrow brings
I have to concentrate in class but my stomach asks for food
I feel pain
I feel pain
I dreamt that I have riches somewhere
But I feel sorry when I wake up
I just put my life in God’s hands and I know one day my situation will change
I feel pain
I understand what I am
I understand that one day it will be okay
With God’s help and hard work I will be granted my wishes
I will never be hungry again
I will feel no more pain.
Here's a recording of Mr. Joseph "Jagai" Banda of Malawi presenting his poem, "Hunger Pain" which he submitted to the 2021 Global Learning in Agriculture (GLAG 21) Poetry Contest:
2021 Poetry Event Finalist - Banda - YouTube
Joseph "Jagai" Banda Nkhamenya attends Private Secondary School and his teacher is Phillip Mayo.
Poem by Allison Rose
Aid and Development
All across the land indigenous people despair,
They have limited fresh produce to eat or share.
They have rice and empty calories galore,
But micronutrients are what they need more.
Who do we trust to help them be free
From the suppressive hunger they want to flee?
They have the knowledge and the will,
But no empowerment to teach their skill.
What holds them back from prosperity?
Corrupt politicians, unstable food chains, you, me?
Who is to blame for the hunger epidemic
One which is exacerbated by the current pandemic?
Is it the aid organizations that keep people dependent?
Or the historical colonizers of which some are descendent?
Is it the political institutions that cannot seem to stabilize?
Or the countries that fund corruption under their aid disguise?
The indigenous people will fight back and rise up and publicize
The injustices they face daily, which make us empathize
To their experiences, ones we cannot normalize.
The hunger and instability which will terrorize,
Until the world powers finally decide to decolonize.
What we need now is to give back the power
To the indigenous folks with all the brainpowers.
The knowledge that is in their hearts and souls,
Will help their communities to reach their nutrition goals.
Click on the file below to listen to Allison read her poem:
Allison Rose is a University of California, Davis undergraduate majoring in International Agriculture Development and minoring in Environmental Policy and Planning. She has major interests in environmental justice and food equity. She hopes to be a part of the solution to environmental racism by working with agriculture and agricultural communities.
Poem by Roxely Castro Hernández
Here's a poem by an 11th grade student Roxely Castro Hernández from Honduras
I Was Hungry and He Feeds Me
I was hungry, and you formed a hunger club.
I was homeless, and you preached to me of shelter in
the love of God.
You seem so holy and so close to God.
But I´m still very hungry, lonely and cold; I am still in
I wish you had taken me home.
I was lonely, and you left me alone to pray for me.
You seem so holy, so close to God,
But I’m still very hungry, lonely and cold.
I’m still in pain.
Does it matter?
When the burdens seem too hard, in Him I find help
Let His angels be your guard.
This is my testimony.
Illustration used for the poem
Roxely Castro Hernández is an 11th-grade student at Alison Bixby Stone School in Honduras
Poem by Matthew Augustine
Food Magazine Models
Picked perfectly ready for the customer
Not the worst, but please remember
I am no different alone, not worse or better
But the last kale people think they’re scraping the barrel
Yet I taste just fine and I am no less sterile
You can find me friends to make me “edible”
Free to be picked, free to be eaten
My taste has my appearance beaten
Two versus One, only a little “misshapen”
My fate is doomed, the rot will grow
Given to no one, and no one will know
That I am fine, but into earth I will go
They are hungry, meals here for everyone
But the time and money are gone
So here these feasts will constantly spawn
Thanksgiving, for a hundred children
Subsidies are the only thing missing
Given this we can help, this problem isn’t hidden
Look at the faces of those who hurt
Ask them how much a meal is worth
Please help those, this system has birthed
Matthew is a student at Oregon State University.
His name is Steven
He is 10
His ribs poke out of his skin
His legs quiver as he walks
His back telling stories no book has the spine to carry
All because people don’t want their last bites
They say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure
But they forgot that one man’s trash can be another man’s life, his livelihood
I can hear the cries of a child saying “mama I’m hungry”
It’s toxic waste
he walks into a store looking for something healthy to eat on a budget
just about 1$ to spend
but the salad he wants is 5.00 vs the mcdonald’s hamburger that’s .99
Where in other places they throw away their $2 ones
America is the capital of obesity
but strutting the authority to exercise
but what about the kids who are food deprived
starving themselves to feel like they fit in
While others throw away food for sport
her name is amber
she has insecurities
she doesn’t get enough to eat at home
She walks down the halls of her high-school
And the kids tease her
Because she’s thin, fragile to touch
but what they failed to realize is
amber’s family has no money
they judged her by the appearances
she ended up starving herself to feel accepted
Just to trim her waist
Her family afraid that she’ll waste away
when you fix your plate the first thing you think of when you get full is to throw away your scraps
But what you don’t understand is that all you’re doing is adding to the
Click on the file below to see the recording of the poem:
K: Of sugary sweet lies and revelations
Z: And of the fiery spice of life and death
K; Something Unique, something that is defined not by the food we eat but the buds on our tongue
Z: The morphine, dopamine, and dynorphin within the brain coated from the flavors of vain
Both: But the identification of the flavors are tricky
K: I identify as a syrupy sweet, unseasonably fresh flavor, something so plush and lush on the tongue, sending waves of morphine and euphoria down your spine, like hot chocolate with a dash of nutmeg. Causing a lie of happiness down your throat. A la-la land of something fragrant. True to the dopamine I cause when you take a bite of that soothing vanilla macaron. But beware, a banana boat of disaster floats your way. Too much of me can and will cost your mind. I will make you addicted, become unhealthy, go crazed, and wish you could stay away from the chocolate drowning you in its sugars and the gumdrops of your anxieties. Thus a start of a licorice beginning and a twizzler end. But this never really was my choice, it was always yours.
Z: I identify as piquant, hot, and tempting. One taste of me and I’ll get your blood pumping. And you’ll be drowning in pepper soup and you open your eyes and see your surrounded by the thick heat like Suya being barbecued over charcoal fire. I give you a chance to live on the wild side of life. A quick journey as though you going on a speed race, running away from your problems, zooming fast like a car chase. You traveling north trying to run away from the flames lookin for ways to escape but you can’t resist when that Kilishi comes your way. Cause I am a high. A natural drug. As soon as you taste me all you’ll see is color, all you’ll see is red. All you’ll hear is your heart beating so fast it’ll sound like drums bringing you into the next life. But of course you realize this is all a game, right? The devil’s tango, didn’t mommy and daddy teach you about places you can't go? I am a high. But every rush must come crashing down. All of the sudden your world’s gone dim, looks like you’ve had too much ata din din. Leaving you with a sigh of relief that you’ve once again survived the spice, and once you’ve caught your breath you’ll come back to taste the fire.
K: the vindictiveness of something so meticulous and melancholic, it's strawberry ice cream sprinkled with cyanide.
Z: the seductiveness and nostalgic presence of something like a carolina reaper on the run.
Both: Flavors are nothing to be played with, but something to watch out for. Go deeper if you must, but tread lightly in the dust.
K: Because something so sweet
Z: and something heavily spicy
Both: Can be deadly.
Poem by Jordan Culmer
stomach growling as I crave for food
mouth watery as flavors lurk in my thoughts and
my mood changes
they say ”food doesn’t happen without work “ but what happens to those
who are looked past and forgotten?
starved and deprived with
no years supply
This became my life
add a pinch of truth
mix in a heaping table spoon of want
I’m so hungry
Food stamps haven’t come in
so wheat bread, processed ham or turkey, & mayonnaise sandwiches with water is what I’m devouring
Oh good my “favorite “
or maybe I’m used to it - it was cheap & easy to fix fast and quick
Better meals I’ve prayed for it
I’m not trying to be a disturbance
to the system but I’m hungry
You must not understand my language
so allow me to reverse the script
Step into my shoes
Open your ears and hear your stomach speak
It’s desire for you to eat
I’m hungry and my spell is on you
Now tell me
Aren’t you hungry too?
These poems were written by young poets