Here's Spruce Glen's revised chapter on POVERTY:

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Poverty

Poverty, oh! poverty!
Your letters spell sadness,
distress and sorrow.
Awaking at morn, I behold thy face.
At night before I sleep, thy sight bids me
a sleepless night.
I lay on my bed moaning and weeping.
For the dear child whom I bore,
Now wasting away,
Beneath my watching eyes.

Only skin and bone of my I see
Yawning and quaking at the sight of food.
By my side lies the youngest
so pale and white
Uttering naught but "food! food!"
Oh! I see the hands of death,
Coming forth to clutch my child
But naught can I do but to say to thee
Poverty, oh! poverty, why treat me thus?

Ubong Jonathan Okan, Nigeria

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Step over him

Step over him like he's not even there
Nevermind his sunken stare
He's here 'cause he wants to be here
Any money you give him he'll waste on beer
He ain't our problem - he's no one we know
Our taxes build shelters, that's where he'll go
Another bum on the street makes no difference to me
I work for a living. So can he.
He's not really a man, just trash in the way
They should sweep'em all up and throw 'em away
Just another piece of litter, that's all I see.
...Oh, please God, don't let that happen to me.

D.J. Purnell, 14, U.S.A.

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For more of Spruce Glen's contribution:

CLICK HERE!