Tuesday Poem: The poor child

had she shoes they would have holes
had she a satchel it would be plastic
had she sheets she would have shelter
had she a closet she might have clothes

oh the state it wrings it hands
oh the state it contemplates its navel
oh the state it blames its predecessors
oh the state it shames her parents
oh the state it prevaricates
oh the state it waits and waits
oh the state it denies that she exists
oh the state it feigns to care about her fate
oh the state it shuts the gate
oh the state it wants the waif to go away

sometimes she goes to school to sleep
sometimes she goes for heat
sometimes she goes to school to eat
sometimes she goes to school


Poverty, inequality, and a lack of political will to do anything about them are still needling my writing skin. Visit Tuesday Poem for more great poetry.

Tuesday Poem: Today, there are twenty-three

Dead leaves
scratch the city street.

The sky is light-weak,
wearing another winter’s
manifest on a sleeve
abstained by blue.

The street’s address
is solid Golden Mile,
where Versace, Gucci,
and Swarovski sup with
the Saatchi brothers.

It is voting season too,
the season of evasion,
sanitised reports,
lies disguised as promises,
squabbles about deciles
of squalor, poverty, jobs,
housing, inequality;

during which politicians
will make the brothers
even richer.

On Golden Mile
beggars squat.
Today, there are twenty-three
between Manners Street
and Parliament.

Dead leaves
scuffle round their feet.


We are just coming into New Zealand's winter and we have a general election in September. Hopefully (or perhaps not), the poem says it all.

I'm also the hub Tuesday Poem editor this week, and the poem I've chosen is "Quail Flat, 1960" by Kerry Popplewell. Check it out at the main Tuesday Poem blog, and don't forget to check out the poems in the sidebar as well!