Money, as viewed by a poet

by Edilson A. Ferreira

I suffer from cold fits when I hear of money.
Does a poet need money? Does he understand it?
They ask if I want to sell my house, my car,
how many dollars do I want for them.
I rarely remember if they are mine,
or how much had I paid for them, if so.
They do not know how impertinent they are.
Should I value my things, my labor, my time,
or, by chance, my life?
People cannot understand poet’s measures.
Is it possible they do not know that they are
the human happiness,
a plain smile
and permanent beauty’s ravishment?

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Mr. Ferreira is a Brazilian poet who writes in English rather than Portuguese, in order to reach more people. Has been published in four printed British Anthologies, online or printed reviews like Cyclamens and Swords, Right Hand Pointing, Boston Poetry Magazine, West Ward Quarterly, TWJ Magazine, The Lake, The Stare’s Net, The Provo Canyon, Snapdragon, The Gambler and some others. Short listed in four American Poetry Contests, lives in a small town with wife, three sons and a granddaughter and began writing after retirement as a Bank Manager. See more of his poetry in www.edilsonmeloferreira.wordpress.com.