Poverty Grass

A Poem by David Lewis Paget

Wild horses we

Pricked at the wind,

Never to know - alas;

That all the lord of our fortunes bought

For us

Was poverty grass.

Poverty grass

The paupered seed

So sickly poor - alas;

The souls of the great untamed grow weak

Despair

On poverty grass.

And you, my friend,

Grew sick awhile,

And cried and cried - alas;

While I grew fat on a flowering weed

Called pride

And poverty grass.

And when you left

The field to me

I almost died - alas;

For I was left in a fallow field

Piled high

In poverty grass.

Wild horses we

Pricked at the wind,

Never to know - alas;

That all the lord of our fortunes bought

For us

Was poverty grass!

David Lewis Paget

© 2014 David Lewis Paget

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Clockwork

This poem is extremely applicable given the times we are in now. A little too much pride, a little bad spending and some bad banks have given many poverty grass indeed.

I liked your use of repetition and how you varied the placements of your refrains. I feel as though you utilized a specific form for this piece, but the name escapes me at the moment.

I was also very fond of the phrase "While I grew fat on a flowering weed/ Called pride." I liked how that contrasted with the idea of the grass and wealth being a growing thing. It shows how pride invades a person like weeds invade a garden and overrun it.

I greatly enjoyed this poem; your craftsmanship is topnotch.