Poem: The Philanthropes

By


''Salaam sahib, I beg thee

give this poor beggar a rupee

or a paisa, please, for

I have no work and must feed

my children three''.


''Yes, I will give you alms'', 

he told the beggar,

''Out of charity''


''But remember--

You must bow to me respectfully

and cringe before me in 

fearful servility

fawning at my feet;

After all, I expect this

as my due, for my Philanthropy''.   















------------  ------------------  ----------------- ------------ 

from Burnt Offerings, 1996 


Hi ! Welcome here to my personal blog �� My pen-name appears usually as 'Omer Tarin' in most searches and sometimes as 'Omar Tarin'

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Night thoughts (September 2025)

By
What are these black thoughts, clutching at my heart? Whispers in the dark, shadows that never part. They consume me, piece by piece Leaving emptiness in their wake A longing for paths not taken, Dreams deferred, that arise now Out of some unknown depth, and call out In somber voices, echoing throughout the length Of my hollow chambers, where ghostly figures dance And darkness gathers, like dust and age But still I breathe, in this empty space,  A fragile pulse beats, a flickering light That casts a gentle glow upon the darkest walls Guiding me subtly through the night
Read more

Poem: Excerpt 5

By
  In the dead of winter I wept Praying and prostrating myself Upon the cloth of your infinite compassion;   Were I a musician, I would express your elusiveness In symphony, Weaving songs on violins;   Were I a poet, I would declaim your mystery In rhapsody, Walking soundlessly on words;   I am neither tonight   Never having learned, I am not adept At recalling An event that transcends All attempts, Transcends language and form, Transcends communication Into the fatal realization Of my own meaningless;   Half-veiled,my friend, I solicit the madness Which is past cure; Burnt am I, out of all delusion, Groveling in a delightful insanity;   At times, I may come Close to loving you.               ---------    -----------------------------    --------------- -------------- From Canto 8, The Harvest Season of Love Songs, 1...
Read more

Poem: Excerpt 6

By
  Dawn lingered over the river,                     Unearthly hues dancing across The conical heights of snowbound ranges Yawning in pantomime, Shivering in anticipation Of the sun’s warm promise;   When the icicles melt Life returns To pools of frozen crystal, Once again, waters meandering down To the great, roaring torrent;   Once again, The soul’s immemorial longings cascade;               --------   ---------------- ------------------ ------------------ ------------------ From Canto 3, The Harvest Season of Love Songs, 1997    
Read more