He was born a landlord—
rich in inherited properties.
But times changed,
people began to value jobs,
more than land.
He was raised with the mindset:
We are rulers,
we don't work for others,
we keep peasants.
That thinking was dangerous.
He ended up poor—
but the arrogance.
grew only.
He would bring his buffaloes,
to bathe in public ponds
and shout at people:
“Our ancestors made this pond!
You poor folks—get out.
My animals will soak here!”*
His house was crumbling.
His daughters remained spinsters.
The last time I saw him,
was in a public place.
I was traveling,
about to board a shared vehicle.
A gentleman I knew,
asked me to switch to another one.
I followed,
and later asked him why.
He whispered,
“Didn’t you notice?
That man had maggots in his ulcers.”
That abandoned man was,
the arrogant landlord.
Now, avoided by everyone.
Just a day later,
I heard of his death.
Poverty is depressing,
Sickness is another layer,
to that pain.
If we don’t bend,
to the changes of time,
if we refuse to adapt.
if we belittle people,
we become fossils,
arrogance is self-sabotaging.
About the Creator
Seema Patel
Hi, I am Seema. I have been writing on the internet for 15 years. I have contributed to PubMed, Blogger, Medium, LinkedIn, Substack, and Amazon KDP.
I write about nature, health, parenting, creativity, gardening, and psychology.
Keep reading
More stories from Seema Patel and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (3)
Another poem for a possible ethics course in a human services course for social workers. Good job.
I know a lot of people like this, and am so sorry for them. They can't give up their arrogance for their own benefit. Great piece!
I love how you4 every poem writes a perfect story ✍️📕🏆