October 27, 2007


Posted in Poetry tagged at 6:23 am by randallbutisingh

The Beggar

Londsome and friendless that beggar sat
On a gray dusty pavement in town
Begging of alms from the passersby
Hurrying up and down.

My God, what pitiable sight to see
That wretched being all forlorn;
Her robe the colour of the dust,
Tattered, unwashed and torn.

I paused a moment with heavy heart,
Then I heaved a heavy sigh;
While heedless of her need and pain,
Jostled the busy passersby.

I dropped a coin in the outstretched palm,
My fingers touched the leprous hand;
Where can I wash them came a thought
Which was easy to understand.

O shameful thought, my heart declared,,
So full of vanity and sin;
I kissed the fingers which touched the hand
Of my brother man, my kin.

He Sang

He sang!
This beggar, lame and sightless,
With begging bowl and laboured gait,
Poured out his lay
In doleful, dulcet notes,
Bartering his gift of song
For bread to satisfy his want.
I dropped a coin into his battered bowl –
A shiny metal thing;
He heard the music of the clink,
Gave thanks and limped away;
I watched him singing go
Ear strained to reach the sound
That warmed my heart
And stirred my soul
Until I heard no more.
Then wonderstruck, I realised
He was the giver
And I
the beggar.

My Neighbour

A wretched stranger met me by the curb
With hand outstretched to beg for gold;
I passed him by without a word
And left him sad and unconsoled.

When on the way to seek my own
My conscience pricked me to the bone,
I hurriedl retraced my steps
To cheer my neighbour
He was gone.

By: Randall Butisingh


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