Penniless

© Ben Heine || Facebook || Twitter || www.benheine.com
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Ink and watercolor painting on paper (older work)
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For more information about my artwork: info@benheine.com
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I Have a Piggy-Bank and a Top Hat

A poem by Peter S. Quinn

I have a piggy-bank and a top hat
But nothing is coming in
I must have done something wrong at that
Perhaps I did a capitalism sin
My money is only few dollars and cents
Nothing to give from or take
I have bills to pay and eyes in ‘relents’
And always in restlessness I will wake

My piggy is red pinkish and bright
It is staring on to the future
I have nightmares for it each night
Because of its breaking (or opening suture)
Someone is taking all my money out
Though it is only a little...
And spreading it here and there about
So I feel so wasted and brittle

My piggy-bank talked to me (in my dreams) last night
It said it has had quite enough:
“Nothing is working out for the right
These savings up ideas of yours - only seems a bit rough” J
I couldn’t agree more with this - My Pinkish Pig!
Though I need to safe up for some stuff
It might seem unnecessary at times ( and a 'jig' )
But I (and all of us) live at times of a consumer’s bluff

(The poem appeared on [link])


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The Economy

A poem by Linda Settles

Living above it
I go on the web and the bad news is posted every day
Our nation and indeed the world, is in a "bad way,"
As my Grandpa used to say.

Banks have failed and panic reigns in the capitals of kings
Homes are lost as markets crumble & wealth takes wings
and vanishes from our life scene.

If our wealth is our power and our primary source of security
We may be tempted to find a window-- as many in the thirties
did and jump from floor thirteen.

Before we open windows and pull up a chair in our despair
We should stop, and reconsider our decision...
All is not lost and poverty is not a prison.

All losses we experience --here-- on this terrestrial plane
Are merely preparation for the treasures we will gain
If we will look beyond the prospect of our pain

We'll see a world that hid behind our wealth and prosperity
Treasures that are unaffected by this world's economy
We'll walk the woods, as Grandpa did.

A simple man, without a B.A., M.A., or PhD
His house was humble, his friends were many
and I knew that he loved me.

The woods, the streams, and even mosquito infested swamps
Were treasures in his eyes, Maybe Grandpa, after all
Knew where to find the prize

Of living well, a simple life that needed few possessions
The sunset, a deer taken, or a turkey call--a few concessions
to his comforts--these were his mansions.

What is there to fear in the instability of our economy
If we live like Grandpa did? In the midst of what some call poverty
He learned to live each day and to be free.

World markets may crumble and the Dow take its plunge
But we won't be affected if our economy is love.

(The poem appeared on [link])