The altruistic munificent: A poem 

Homiletic is the clime 

of personification of sublime 

Like the juices of lime 

a purgative enzyme 

Who does not stop to think 

about the clutter in his own sink 

But for them does the eyelid blink 

those caught on thin ice’s rink 

And he has no tears to shed 

for the snowstorm in his head 

But in the avalanche, to be in good stead 

for the other, like a dependable sled 

And when he feels an ache 

The thought keeps him awake 

that many hurt in vain 

with none to share their pain