Houghton's Bank
HOUGHTON'S BANK
Herd instinct wannabes beg bridge funds, but
Often, spendthrift, find requests for loans
Unsecured denied. Bank makes no bones
Grabbing from those who’d raise themselves from rut,
Hand extended, scored, endures deep cut,
Turns topsy-turvy projects, risk condones,
Obstructing time-vault access with crisp tones,
Neat writing on the wall cites scuttlebutt.
Banking’s a profession where the gut
Active role takes, stakes past winners, drones
Need putting in their place. Prudence postpones
Knackers’ needs, weeds, tightens screw, bolt and nut.
However write-offs rise as profits fall,
Because tight guidelines can’t encompass all.
13 July 1992 revised 2 January 2009
robi03_0581_robi03_0000 ASX_JXX
for previous version see below
Houghton's Bank
Here many beg to borrow money but
Offer scant security, their loans
Unjustly are denied and dialling tones
Grow silent, windows shuttered, when door’s shut.
Helping hand where proferred takes deep cut.
Trips many projects while it waste condones,
Opens not the time-vault, makes no bones
Nor panders to the poor trapped in their rut.
Banking’s a profession where the gut
A role should play to back the winner, drones
Need putting in their place, and thus new loans
Keep screw vice tight with prudent bolt and nut.
However, write-offs rise as profits fall,
Because tight guidelines can’t encompass all...
13 July 1992
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Kidney Stones
Kidney stones
turn brains to bones,
cull much remaining time,
call in all loans,
mute ringing tones,
rein reign of write and rhyme
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Empowerment
Times of trouble sponge solutions new,
Insight inks page which once seemed whitewash blank.
Grief is patient. Joy greets the dawn to thank
Hope for fresh sparks where all once seemed askew.
The challenge unchains energy that through
Creative actions borrow from the bank
Of inner strength, experiences drank
Retained in brain, regurgitate on cue -
New inklings spliced with instincts tried and true.
Errors past forge future force if frank,
Reproachless one remains, nor closed, nor crank.
Sincerity succeeds if luck smiles too.
Turned, tight corners open vistas which
Empower options sure solutions stitch.
© Jonathan ROBIN 20 August 1992 robi3_0596_robi3_0000 revised 24 June 2007
acrostic sonnet - Tight Corners Turned Empower for previous version see below
Tight Corners
Times of trouble sponge solutions new,
Inklings spring up, ink in what seemed blank.
Grief is patient, joy greets the dawn to thank
Hope for fresh sparks where all appeared askew.
The challenge unchains energy which through
Creative insight borrows from the bank
Of inner strenght and knowled which, once drank,
Retained within the brain was, then, on cue,
New-born did blossom: instinct tried and true.
Errors past forge future force if frank,
Reproachless one remains, and not a crank.
Sincerity succeeds if luck smiles too.
Tight corners prove the mettle of the soul,
Cast off all doubts, rewards you’ll reap, not dole.
20 August 1992
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reconstruction
So, the bank has bust it's boiler! And in six or seven year
It will pay me all my money back -- of course!
But the horse will perish waiting while the grass is germinating,
And I reckon I'll be something like the horse.
There's the ploughing to be finished and the ploughmen want their pay,
And I'd like to wire the fence and sink a tank;
But I own I'm fairly beat how I'm going to make ends meet
With my money in a reconstructed bank.
"It's a safe and sure investment!" But it's one I can't afford,
For I've got to meet my bills and bay the rent,
And the cash I had provided (so these meetings have decided)
Shall be collared by the bank at three per cent.
I can draw out half my money, so they tell me, from the Crown;
But -- it's just enough to drive a fellow daft --
My landlord's quite distressed, by this very bank he's pressed,
And he'll sell me up, to pay his overdraft.
There's my nearest neighbour, Johnson, owed this self-same bank a debt,
Every feather off his poor old back they pluck't,
For they set to work to shove him, and they sold his house above him,
Lord! They never gave him time to reconstruct.
And their profits from the business have been twenty-five per cent,
Which, I reckon, is a pretty tidy whack,
And I think it's only proper, now the thing has come a cropper,
That they ought to pay a little of it back.
I have read about "reserve funds", "banking freeholds", and the like,
Till I thought the bank had thousands of assets,
And it strikes me very funny that they take a fellow's money
When they haven't got enough to pay their debts.
And they say they've lent my money, and they can't get paid it back.
I know their rates per cent were tens and twelves;
And if they've made a blunder after scooping all this plunder,
Why, they ought to fork the money out themselves.
So all you bank shareholders, if you won't pay what you owe,
You will find that on your bank will fall a blight;
And the reason is because it's simply certain that deposits
Will be stopped, the bank will bust, and serve you right!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Claridges
The same discrete blue paper and the old quill pen still play
upon the mind to summon summer’s memories as day
melts darkling sky from dusty pink to inky undertones, -
extrapolating time’s ebb tide, when flesh fades from the bones.
How short will be the stay this time, so few have means to pay
a monthly wage within the compass of a weekend, - drones
disguised as business men of size who bore in monotones,
beneath ambitions buried deep to mask their hearts’ dismay.
The tasteful paper blue recalls those images of scones
and endless teas on sunny lawns - now concrete covers - hay
last harvested so long ago that only archived loans
remember that prosperity’s elastic silicone
pressed out upon b[l]uff surface, soon may wear, and tear or fray.
The phantom of King Credit past, now overdrawn and grey,
still stays in suite identical – though fax and telephone
add a touch of innovation to that décor so well known.
Yet despite the surface changes both cuisine and service stay
tailored to the highest standards, all the rules of taste obey.
© Jonathan Robin – poem written 1 October 1992
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Jacta Alea Est
JACTA ALEA EST
One world penetrates another:
roleplay cad-I-lack, Rolls, turn into casino.
One stage upstages another:
dice roll at sixes and sevens.
One wish collides with another,
shuffled hands wrung sans sleight of hand.
One ball follows another reel
steals into black hole, alack
sees red upon green baize.
One card hides behind another
where kings and queens signify nothing.
One [s]take's raised: another
ace outbluffs poker face buff.
Bank deal breaks idyll: another
soul's goals slide from real-I-tease.
1 October 1997 revised 1 July 2007,26 January 2010 and 5 March 2011
robi03_0852_robi03_0000 VXX_CJX
Previous title Alea
for previous versions see below
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
ALEA
One world rides into another
as roleplay cad-I-lack rolls turns into casino.
Short stack folds as another
fans shorter lived self-conceit.
One role folds into another
as dice roll at sixes and sevens.
Long face blows hot and cold as another
buff advances a round bound to chance bluff.
One wish collides with another
as shuffled hands are wrung sans sleight of hand.
wishful thinking's inklings vain.
One pole coincides with another
as ball steals into a black hole
or sees red upon green baize.
One card hides behind another
where kings and queens signify nothing.
Make good money belt stripped from another
turns into takeaway regret, bets hedged.
One stake raised as another
ace highjacks yet another other with poker face.
Stake raked calls shaky fake's bravado bluff
as mistake bakes apple pie, takes and eats cake.
One dream bank breaks, as another
goal glides from real-I-tease.
1 October 1997 revised 1 July 2007 and 26 January 2010
robi03_0852_robi03_0000 VXX_CJX
for previous version see below
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
ALEA
One world rides into another
as cad-I-lack rolls turns into the casino.
One role folds into another
as the dice roll at sixes and sevens.
One wish collides with another
as shuffled hands are wrung sans sleight of hand.
One pole coincides with another
as the ball steals into a black hole
or sees red upon the green baize.
One card hides behind another
where kings and queens signify nothing.
One stake is raised as another
ace jacks up yet another other with poker face.
One dream bank breaks, as another
goal glides from real-I-tease.
1 October 1997
robi03_0852_robi03_0000 VXX_CJX
poem Alea © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Polyacrostic Palimpsest - A Tribute
As tribute paid to time may this come clear
Uniformly in unsought surprise
Pen on paper no pattern spots, these ties
Interactive spinning tight, austere.
A pleasure hand has threaded bright idea
in thoughts using inset input, tries
Simple play pieces, satisfies soul's sighs, -
A startling insight art alone supplies.
None thread and read in one light verse sincere.
Nature set I in merry manner here
Expectant as these rhymed line flows appear.
26 May 2005 see below for alternative version
Anne Aupiais 3 x vertically and twice diagonally
A Tribute_19920721_As tribute paid to time may this come clear ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi3_0362_robi3_0000 BXX_IXX
A tribute I lay at your door and pray
United we find ways to understand, -
Pen and ink unlimited expand
Interactively in every way.
A great need appears to grow each day
In a soul who uses words at hand,
Simply puts pieces in a jigsaw band,
And, yet, will, in the end, find truth's bright ray.
No other may as much as this display
Noble mind. I in these lines here stand
Expectant as I wait your smile today.
21 July 1992
Anne Aupiais 2 x vertically and once diagonally
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rise Through Regrets
This jaded world from role reversal reels,
Harsh judgement passes on deceptions deep.
Exit by bear pursued few locks will keep -
Door closed and shuttered windows soon reveals
Only introspection spirit seals
On dust of love’s rejection which can't weep.
Remorseless fate exacts a price too steep.
Rise through regrets, for surface storm conceals
Events which Cause/Effect invents, spins wheels
Mind's reasons, blind, may challenge, worries sweep,
Offering chance advance, to help heart reap
Victory and tune to future's peal.
Edition new heals smart, stamps vis[t]a’s start.
Dream themes unreels, hope's schemes successful chart.
© Jonathan Robin – acrostic sonnet written 28 December 2006 The Door Removed - revised 20 October 2008 for previous version see below
This world above from role reversing reels,
Harsh judgement passes on deceptions deep.
Exit by bear pursued few locks will keep -
Door closed and shuttered windows soon reveals
Only introspection which must weep
On dust of love’s rejection past. We feel
Remorseless fate exacts a price too steep.
Rise through regrets which may disguise surprise
Events which Cause/Effect invents to try
Most patience, represent in other guise
Other guy’s advance to Chance defy.
Vain complaint when heart new part may chart,
EDition true heals smart, stamps vis[t]a’s fresher start.
© Jonathan Robin – acrostic sonnet written 28 December 2006 The Door Removed
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Screw It All
Screw the World
Screw my friends
Screw the lies that never end
Screw my mom
Screw my dad
Screw the way I feel sad
Screw my teachers
Screw my school
Screw the life of one man's rule
Screw my clothes
Screw my nose
All it is is a fake pose
Screw my body
Screw my face
Screw all the parts below my waist
Screw your life
And Screw mine
Screw the rich who drink and dine
Screw the poor
Screw the sick
All it is is a load of gick
Screw my money
Screw my car
Oh my God, I'm so sick of it all!
poem by Artemis Zeus
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Around # 3
the hand of God, the hand of fate,
where do you cast the blame?
humanity, cursed by apathy,
acts of murder in God's name.
national pride, guess what they lied,
putting money in the bank.
bombs falling, terror crawling,
putting gas in the tanks.
and the world comes crashing down.
in too deep, the fearful drown.
stand up and be, or just sit down.
what goes around comes around.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Tight Corners Turned Empower
Times of trouble sponge solutions new,
Intuition inks in what seemed blank.
Grief is patient. Joy greets the dawn to thank
Hope for fresh sparks where all appeared askew.
The challenge unchains energy which through
Creative insight borrows from of the bank
Of inner strength, experience one once drank,
Retained within the brain, respewed on cue,
New inklings spliced with instincts tried and true.
Errors past forge futre force if frank,
Reproachless one stays, not destructive crank.
Sincerity succeeds if luck smiles too.
Turned, tight corners open vistas which
Empower options which advances stitch.
(20 August 1992 /acrostic sonnet - Tight Corners Turned Empower)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Toy Soldiers Leaden Eyed - Acrostic Mata Hari
TOY SOLDIERS LEADEN EYED
My life foams fast, spurts sudden surge,
Appraise past fancy, sullen urge,
Then see toy soldiers leaden eyed
Attest failed flight, time, grace denied.
Here at my post I’m posted, tied,
And no-one dares to act as guide.
Right, tight, where Hell’s four streams converge:
I stand and wait... serve on lead’s purge!
5 December 1990 revised 10 January 2009
robi03_0360_robi03_0000 AXX_DJZ
For previous version see below
Toy Soldiers Leaden Eyed
My life foamed fast, in sudden surge,
All passing fancies, sullen urge, -
The child’s toy soldiers, leaden eyed,
Attest failed flight which Time defied.
Here at my post I’m posted, tied,
And none now dares to be my guide.
Right, tight, where Hell’s four streams converge:
I wait awhile, .............. how lead does purge!
5 December 1990
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ending up-front fees should make it far easier for all students to go to university as they will no longer have to pay up to /1,125 out of their loans at the start of each year. Student loans will also rise to meet average living costs.
quote by Anne Campbell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Water-Fall
1 With what deep murmurs through time's silent stealth
2 Doth thy transparent, cool, and wat'ry wealth
3 Here flowing fall,
4 And chide, and call,
5 As if his liquid, loose retinue stay'd
6 Ling'ring, and were of this steep place afraid;
7 The common pass
8 Where, clear as glass,
9 All must descend
10 Not to an end,
11 But quicken'd by this deep and rocky grave,
12 Rise to a longer course more bright and brave.
13 Dear stream! dear bank, where often I
14 Have sate and pleas'd my pensive eye,
15 Why, since each drop of thy quick store
16 Runs thither whence it flow'd before,
17 Should poor souls fear a shade or night,
18 Who came, sure, from a sea of light?
19 Or since those drops are all sent back
20 So sure to thee, that none doth lack,
21 Why should frail flesh doubt any more
22 That what God takes, he'll not restore?
23 O useful element and clear!
24 My sacred wash and cleanser here,
25 My first consigner unto those
26 Fountains of life where the Lamb goes!
27 What sublime truths and wholesome themes
28 Lodge in thy mystical deep streams!
29 Such as dull man can never find
30 Unless that Spirit lead his mind
31 Which first upon thy face did move,
32 And hatch'd all with his quick'ning love.
33 As this loud brook's incessant fall
34 In streaming rings restagnates all,
35 Which reach by course the bank, and then
36 Are no more seen, just so pass men.
37 O my invisible estate,
38 My glorious liberty, still late!
39 Thou art the channel my soul seeks,
40 Not this with cataracts and creeks.
poem by Henry Vaughan
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Breathless
All these posers keep you awake
I guess Im just too tired to sleep
And God only knows Im too lost to cry
Kissing last has kept me true
Ill fall (hold me tight)
But Ill leave (hold me tight)
So hold me tight
Cause Im so lonely
Ill fall (hold me tight)
But Ill leave (hold me tight)
So hold me tight
Cause Im so lonely
He hates so much its love he says
Inside his dark I need to smile
He shouts so loud I never hear
Thats why the truths always abused
As I slip into unconsciousness
I never felt so much to blame
Ill fall (hold me tight)
But Ill leave (hold me tight)
So hold me tight
Cause Im so lonely
Ill fall (hold me tight)
But Ill leave (hold me tight)
So hold me tight
Cause Im so lonely
As I slip into unconsciousness
I never felt so much to blame
Ill fall (hold me tight)
But Ill leave (hold me tight)
So hold me tight
Cause Im so lonely
Ill fall (hold me tight)
But Ill leave (hold me tight)
So hold me tight
Cause Im so lonely
Ill fall (hold me tight)
But Ill leave (hold me tight)
So hold me tight
Cause Im so lonely
Ill fall (hold me tight)
But Ill leave (hold me tight)
So hold me tight
Cause Im so lonely
Ill fall (another day another night)
So hold me tight
Cause Im so lonely
Ill fall (another day another night)
So hold me tight
Cause Im so lonely
song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode to Her
Ode to Her
The white bones
of my father
are so white,
as though they come
from the white sands of Santa Fe
And why do I think of him?
Because I am old
and can only think of the past
with Matisse, O'Keeffe, Modi-
gliani,
the West bank, the Left Bank -
Did you ever get there?
But do not write in sorrow,
Do not write on the dead
they do not exist
they will not exist
with one foot in the grave
which will not touch me
because I live in spite
of my wishes
this is not love but jealousy
jealousy from the limbic system
bottle it
sell it
it tastes so bitter
I can sleep on it
the old bones
don't let me move
poem by Fred Babbin
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Minted and crowned
Imagine if you can the greatest bank vault…
Ribbed door; heavier than any mountain wall.
Where no safecracker can by time lock default:
Gain access… The glorious treasures enthrall.
Doors with a time lock, on all deposits…
One, once you enter, there’s nothing to be found.
No jewels, paper money, or trinkets
Just your own coinage minted and crowned.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Door Removed
T ired men react to role reversing reels,
H arsh judgement pass upon deceptions deep.
E xit by bear pursued few locks will keep -
D oor closed and shuttered windows soon reveals
O nly introspection that will weep
O n dust of love’s rejection past. We feel
R emorseless fate exacts a price too steep.
R ise through regrets which may disguise surprise
E vents which Cause/Effect invents to try
M ost patience, represent in other guise
O ther guy’s advance to Chance defy.
V ain complaint when heart new part may chart,
EDition true heals smart, stamps vis[t]a’s start.
Windows open, idem doors, draft draught,
Ideas interlink transparently -
New horizons, visibility.
Dreams, once distant, closer draw, light shaft
Opportunity accepts as raft
Which on life's stream surfs forward looking, free,
Undulating through waft/weave waves we
Never knew we knew before. Life laughed.
Sadness dissolves, pain's soothed. Pane mind may craft
Hearing tastes few see, paradox, at sea,
Unleashes flash synaptic energy,
Turns bias topsy-turvy. Joy's witchcraft.
TERrain prepares: once blind, mind focus finds,
REDrawn perception redefines, unbinds.
© Jonathan Robin Acrostic Sonnet written 28 December 2006, revised with second sonnet added 13 May 2008 - for previous version see below
T his world above from role reversing reels,
H arsh judgement passes on deceptions deep.
E xit by bear pursued few locks will keep -
D oor closed and shuttered windows soon reveals
O nly introspection which must weep
O n dust of love’s rejection past which feel
R emorseless fate exacts a price too steep.
R ise through regrets which may disguise surprise
E vents which Cause/Effect invents to try
M ost patience, represent in other guise
O ther guy’s advance to Chance defy.
V ain complaint when heart new part may chart,
EDition true heals smart, stamps vis[t]a’s fresher start.
© Jonathan Robin Acrostic Sonnet written 28 December 2006
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Money Tight
Maurice white, allee willis & d. sembello
Im always dreamin bout my baby
Rent is due, Im slipping on the job
No time to think about survival
Push for the cash aint in my heart
cause theres nothing more that
Im living for
Than you baby, oh my baby
In this crazy world there is just one girl
Its you baby, oh my baby
(chorus)
Money tight dont feel right
Richest man has no fight alone
Material things dont matter
If your heart dont get that patter in your bones
Money tight with me
You loves all I need
Aint got no time for superstition
Cant roll the dice and win your heart
When its love its strictly business
Once you cheat it only falls apart
And I live each day knowing love will pay
With you baby, oh my baby
Though my porckets bare, you are always there
For me baby, oh my baby
(chorus)
Money tight dont feel right
Richest man has no fight alone
Material things dont matter
If your heart dont get that patter in your bones
Money tight with me
You loves all I need
(bridge)
Money, money tight for me.
Money, money tight for me.
(vamp)
Money tight dont feel right
The richest man has no fight all alone
Material things dont matter
If your heart dont get that patter in your bones
Money tight with me
Your loves all I need
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Decline and Fall - 0591
Deepening recession shivers sends,
Enterprise is under pressure, trade
Chilled to the marrow, barrow scrapes. Hopes fade
Like snow in Spring as unemployment's trends
Imply a further rise. The Pound descends
Near chart support lines which are badly frayed.
Executives begin to feel afraid
As belts are tightened while each firm defends
New targets where their market share extends
Despite the profit margin squeeze, price pared.
Falling homes mean fewer loans repaid,
As further credit may be at an end.
Like crickets in midsummer now we sing,
Leaves fall, small worries Winter's sure to bring.
(4 August 1992)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Pride Aside on Love
Innocence and pride make two
as pride and love - forget-me-not -
from fever cools as through and through
fond memories few keep. Fools blot
their copy books, mock Cupid's coo
as selfishness unravels knot,
hands tied dis paired, what should be true.
When once fidelity's bolt's shot
some lock out souvenirs, fond cue
forget - from pseudo sage to sot -
invent excuses spent, unglue.
False feelings [b]ring crime Time will rot.
Yet Cupid's dart should hearts entwine
in happiness come rain or shine.
for previous version 31 July 2007 see below
Innocence and pride make two
as pride and love, - forget-me-not
from fever cools as through and through
fond memories few keep, sots blot
their copy books, unravel knot
hands tied when paired, once bolt is shot
block out souvenirs, fond cue
forget - from pseudo sage to sot -
label feelings they've forgot
that once they thought by heart they knew.
(27 January 2007 revised 31 July 2007 and 4 February 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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