The Nightmare of Man
Man works throughout life
from childhood to adulthood.
He builds his place in heaven
sitting leap years in classrooms
harvesting diplomas for his career,
saying the best words of himself
as investment for job applications.
He daily climbs up the ladder as goal
He is obsessed of success and ambition.
From a house to land, bank savings
or loans, he continues to strive on.
But at a wink of an eye, all that he
has struggled for, all that he collects
to own, are lost and gone irrepairable.
For sure enough, the flames of fire
eat up all what he has acquired
within his years and decades in life.
Typhoon, tsunami, flood and cyclone
drown all what he has long labored.
Earthquake, disease and transient thieves
swallow up even his last bank loan.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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I Looked At That Fool And Smiled
There is nothing like being in love.
Especially with someone who has not a clue,
As to who you are.
And shows as much respect...
As a passing stranger.
I was once told many years ago,
I could be a bank president...
If I put my mind to it.
I agreed!
But my mind wasn't set,
On the credits and debts that others kept.
I needed and wanted to 'own' my destiny.
And 'if' I wanted someone to monitor my resources...
I would select a bank.
And I would pay that bank president,
To oversee...
My property.
But happy am I,
To have those days pass me by.
And I am blessed to continue to fly.
With my ultimate ambition,
YET to be realized.
Oh...
But it my sights,
It is becoming clarified.
And 'if' you happen to be reading this...
From wherever in the world,
You may have my words interpreted.
Wherever in the 'world' you may sit.
You may 'already' have a hint of it!
The thing I own I am most proudest of...
Is a bus pass.
That's right!
The proudest thing I am 'going' to do?
Is to have my words read...
From 'wherever' you locate them,
To go directly into your head.
Enough said!
I am not bragging about that.
It will become fact.
And I knew that as a child!
I kicked other things around for a while.
Hey...
Life is a learning process.
Is it not?
That is why when I was told,
Many years ago...
I could be a bank president,
I looked at that fool and smiled.
I did not have to earn a Master's in Business.
I was 'born' a Master OF Business.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Sea Is Very Big
Do not ask me to be the wave of some vast sea.
I can agree though if you promise that the wave of the sea
Will but lose itself in the depths of the ocean and
Return again to the refuge of the childhood river.
I do not want to merge with the sea, for
It is vast, it has too great a pride,
And I am afraid of it.
It is bent on devouring the river
in intoxicated ravenousness, but
I refuse to be its victim: only
I can be its occasional companion
some morning, or,
May even go with it to the far distance
some lazy noon.
Provided it gives me the pledge
That each evening it will restore me to the quiet
River of my childhood, which I have seen
Flowing in my body and soul from birth,
That when I shall watch my river some winter night,
Sitting on its bank, it will fill this river of mine
With a new flood tide.
No oceanic cyclone
Only the soft drip-dropp of dew, like a musical tune,
Making the two 'bakul' branches on the bank
Mildly quiver.
Note: Bakul- A kind of flower tree.
poem by Ahsan Habib
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Homeless, Na
He was unwanted so parents abandoned
Homeless, loveless grown as the orphan.
Can't stay more in orphanage of ill treat
would escape from there for life's retreat.
Has a dream of a home where he can live
with respect, comfort, bliss and peace.
He doesn't have money, to buy one little.
He collects and sells junk and scrap metal.
Every dawn and dusk used to pull cart
To increase the income he would work hard.
Sleeps in the cart or a shipping container.
deposits in bank, savings after meals, whatever.
Years passed dropp and dropp make ocean;
to buy a house, now he has money enough.
Now no more, Na, would live near gutter.
In a bank account he has one million dollar.
No God! sudden pain takes him to hospital
where Na is diagnosed of dreadful cancer.
He can't take money, unable to prove identity;
no evidence of his existence was there officially.
Before court ruled for identity, he was dead
Na, born homeless, as well, died homeless.
sdtiwari1@gmaildotcom
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Stigma
he rose from the ashes
after the fire
he lost his house and
everything he has are
nothing but chars
years the stigma sticks
the trauma continues to rig
his heart
it is not gone
like the way he continues to live
his life rising as a star
though distant but shining still
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Burglar Is My Best Friend
lovers are nothing but thieves
an effortful attempt to attain a goal
success yet again. success yet again!
my body has fallen asleep now
my heart had run out of bandages
and my piggy bank has run dry
yet disapproval just makes you proud
laugh now but keep it to yourself
my character flaw is your lucky day.
poem by Samantha Millard
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Though I've Done My Share Of Travel
Though I've done my share of travel I don't have much to show of Worldly gain
And 'tis been awhile and many Seasons since I've seen old Clara in the rain
And the fog crawl down the mountain on days cold enough to snow
And Finnow swollen by stormwater through the old fields bank high flow.
Though I've done my share of travel I cannot boast of Worldly success
And the judgemental social judges I have failed to impress
But worse for me than not knowing wealth and fame as I did crave for renown
Is to know I'd be a stranger now in Millstreet my Hometown.
I've done my share of travel beyond Duhallow's countryside
And I've mixed with many races people from places far and wide
And they still talk of their old Homelands many miles beyond the sea
The nostalgia for their old Hometowns in them as much as me.
For my travels and my years of life can't say I have much to show
And what success feels like I must admit I am not one who does know
And it has been more than twenty years since I've seen Finnow in flood of brown
Bank high flowing in the old fields just west of Millstreet Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Two Boys Fishing
Two little boys fishing
Cheeky lads in short pants
Sitting on a river bank
Sharing sweets and fizzy drinks
Wondering what life may bring.
Two teenage boys fishing
Now shaving in the mornings
Sitting on a river bank
Talking of girls and a first time kiss
Excited by what love may bring.
Two young men at a wedding
Hard working, friends for life
One the groom the other best man
Talking softly waiting for the bride
Who comes so radiant in white.
Two middle-aged men
Abundant with family love and work
Sitting on a river bank
Talking of mortgages, school fees
And of coming Government elections.
Two old men fishing, old and grey
Grandfathers looking back at life
Sitting on a river bank
Grateful for each other's company
Sharing life's highway to God.
poem by Colin Ian Jeffery
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The Premier and the Socialist
The Premier and the Socialist
Were walking through the State:
They wept to see the Savings Bank
Such funds accumulate.
"If these were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be great."
"If three financial amateurs
Controlled them for a year,
Do you suppose," the Premier said,
"That they would get them clear?"
"I think so," said the Socialist;
"They would -- or very near!"
"If we should try to raise some cash
On assets of our own,
Do you suppose," the Premier said,
"That we could float a loan?"
"I doubt it," said the Socialist,
And groaned a doleful groan.
"Oh, Savings, come and walk with us!"
The Premier did entreat;
"A little walk, a little talk,
Away from Barrack Street;
My Socialistic friend will guide
Your inexperienced feet."
"We do not think," the Savings said,
"A socialistic crank,
Although he chance just now to hold
A legislative rank,
Can teach experienced Banking men
The way to run a Bank."
The Premier and the Socialist
They passed an Act or so
To take the little Savings out
And let them have a blow.
"We'll teach the Banks," the Premier said,
"The way to run the show.
"There's Tom Waddell -- in Bank finance
Can show them what is what.
I used to prove not long ago
His Estimates were rot.
But that -- like many other things --
I've recently forgot.
"Advances on a dried-out farm
Are what we chiefly need,
And loaned to friends of Ms.L.A.
Are very good, indeed,
See how the back-block Cockatoos
Are rolling up to feed."
"But not on us," the Savings cried,
Falling a little flat,
"We didn't think a man like you
Would do a thing like that;
For most of us are very small,
And none of us are fat."
"This haughty tone," the Premier said,
"Is not the proper line;
Before I'd be dictated to
My billet I'd resign!"
"How brightly," said the Socialist,
"Those little sovereigns shine."
The Premier and the Socialist
They had their bit of fun;
They tried to call the Savings back
But answer came there none,
Because the back-block Cockatoos
Had eaten every one.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Bedside Photograph
For nearly four score years and ten our mother
Found joy exploring what her world could give.
She knew first-hand the hells that one can live
But always felt that life was worth the bother.
She kept a childhood photo near her bed.
In it a young girl with two dogs smiles out
And waits to learn what life is all about.
She looks expectant, shows no sign of dread.
Folks sometimes asked where mother found the skill
To play on with those reconstructed knees.
How does one, bludgeoned daily by disease,
Manage to hold the smile, dismiss the ill?
At night, while her gnarled body struggled on,
She frolicked with her childhood dogs till dawn.
poem by Chuck Toll
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Short Shrift
‘I’ve failed! ’ How many times have sons
And fathers’ fathers echoed me?
‘I’ve failed! My life was spent in dreams, ’
We said, ‘in shallow misery.
In dreams and steel and soot and grime,
In screams, and what would seem some crime
Of trying to live beyond our need...
Our lives were spent in some black creed! ’
‘Too short, too short, the days we spent
In trying to right the days before,
Too long, too long, the years we struggled
Knowing not what struggled for.
What goal, what aim, what discontent,
What loves we lost, what life we spent
In wondering what such life could be?
Short shrift for you - harsh words for me! ’
‘I’ve failed, my sons, I’ve failed you all
And so my failure tortures me,
As in that innocence divine
Your love loves all the failed in me.
If I could strip this flesh, or tear
These eyes that cried hot fire for you
To save you from the same despair
My father’s father brought me to...’
20 July 1976
poem by David Lewis Paget
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My river bank
The water hit the bank
Like a wave upon a shore
Happiness just out of reach
Finding that is something you can’t teach
No one to talk to
No one to see
As you can tell just me
I sit alone on my river bank
No happy people passing by as I let out a gentle sigh
I realized I sit alone on my river bank
Unreal happiness in this unreal tournament they call life
I sit alone, isolated on my river bank
I shall always sit alone on my river bank
I will always be alone on this river bank
poem by EmOzEd johnston
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Interest Rate
Interest rate should be fixed
In such a manner and style
So that both the commercial banks
And their clients are benefited
But unfortunately many people
Incur loss as a result of
High interest rate
The central bank should encourage
The commercial banks
To go for investment
In the lucrative sectors
In order to create more fund
And to enable them to give more loans
And lower interest rate
For the entrepreneurs
If the commercial banks
Lower interest rate
For the depositors
The latter will not be discouraged much
Since people deposit money mainly
To keep it in a safe place
If the commercial banks
Lower interest rate
For the entrepreneurs
Many more people will take loan
As a result
Both the parties will be benefited
According to Islam
If there is more good elements
Than bad effects
Exist in a thing
It becomes halal
Therefore if most of the people are benefited
By taking loans it becomes okay
poem by Asif Andalib
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The Boomer's Lament (A Country Western Song)
By the order of the Marshall
We don't live here any more
Our stuff is on the lawn
and there's a padlock on our door.
Then, while I was distracted,
reading the decree
Thieves made off with my HDTV
I once worked as a loan officer
at Mega Billions bank
We made some bad decisions
as the staff and assets shrank.
I was escorted from my desk
the day I got the shank-
My Boss made bonus- he has
TARP to thank.
By the order of the Marshall
We don't live here any more
Our stuff is on the lawn
and there's a padlock on our door.
Then, while I was distracted,
reading the decree
Thieves made off with my HDTV.
My Kid is off in College
working hard for his degree
He'll graduate with a B.S.
in compared Anatomy.
When his student loans come due
He'd better not ask me
Twenty two and out is my decree.
By the order of the Marshall
We don't live here any more
Our stuff is on the lawn
and there's a padlock on our door.
Then, while I was distracted,
reading the decree,
Thieves made off with my HDTV.
I got our stuff in storage
and we're down at Motel Six
It's hard for us to sleep at night-
The girl next door turns tricks.
Our bank accounts yield nothing
and We're hostage to the VIX
I gave up my season tickets to the Knicks.
By the order of the Marshall
We don't live here any more
Our stuff is on the lawn
and there's a padlock on our door.
Then, while I was distracted,
reading the decree,
Thieves made off with my HDTV.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Packing Up Our Dreams
Packing up our dreams today
Told that we must move away
The bank just took our house
Funny don't know how it all went so wrong
When we got the loan
Back in better days
Now all the jobs are gone
Thought we could hold on
But the bank won't help in any way
They got their money from Uncle Sam
Investing it in other lands
To Hell with Us is what they say
I pray someday God takes from them
Like they did to us today
poem by David Kush
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Bank Robber
I much admire, I must admit,
The man who robs a Bank;
It takes a lot of guts and grit,
For lack of which I thank
The gods: a chap 'twould make of me
You wouldn't ask to tea.
I do not mean a burglar cove
Who climbs into a house,
From room to room flash-lit to rove
As quiet as a mouse;
Ah no, in Crime he cannot rank
With him who robs a Bank.
Who seemeth not to care a whoop
For danger at its height;
Who handles what is known as 'soup,'
And dandles dynamite:
Unto a bloke who can do that
I doff my bowler hat.
I think he is the kind of stuff
To be a mighty man
In battlefield,--aye, brave enough
The Cross Victorian
To win and rise to high command,
A hero in the land.
What General with all his swank
Has guts enough to rob a Bank!
poem by Robert William Service
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Thomas Ross, Jr.
This I saw with my own eyes:
A cliff-swallow
Made her nest in a hole of the high clay-bank
There near Miller's Ford.
But no sooner were the young hatched
Than a snake crawled up to the nest
To devour the brood.
Then the mother swallow with swift flutterings
And shrill cries
Fought at the snake,
Blinding him with the beat of her wings,
Until he, wriggling and rearing his head,
Fell backward down the bank
Into Spoon River and was drowned.
Scarcely an hour passed
Until a shrike
Impaled the mother swallow on a thorn.
As for myself I overcame my lower nature
Only to be destroyed by my brother's ambition.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Don't You Find Yourself In An Odd Position?
Don't you find yourself in an odd position?
Remember,
It was years ago...
When you mentioned to me,
I could be a bank president...
If I chose to be?
And you went on to gain success in finance.
Only to find you and your position...
Assessed as being outdated and flat broke.
And even with your 'genius' mind...
You can't make a dollar worth more than a dime.
Don't you find yourself in an odd position?
Remember,
It was years ago...
When you mentioned to me,
I could be a bank president...
If I chose to be?
And I chose to see myself happy,
And free of sustained delusions.
And you?
Well...
I can not say,
You did not make your own choices.
You've got your title.
And I've got my life!
With a basicness only happiness,
Has fulfilled.
Don't you find yourself in an odd position?
If not...
You must have adopted fresh delusions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One hundred years from now, it will not matter what my bank account was, how big my house was, or what kind of car I drove. But the world may be a little better, because I was important in the life of a child.
quote by Forest Witcraft
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My legislation, the Simple Savings Tax Relief Act of 2005, simply eliminates the taxation of interest earned in savings accounts, such as passbook savings accounts or bank certificates of deposit.
quote by Cliff Stearns
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of The Lord
My goal in life
Is to live in the house
Of the Lord
For no bank
Can foreclose
On it
For the payments
Have been paid
By the cross
poem by David Kush
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