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Business Death Poems | Death Poems About Business

These Business Death poems are examples of Death poems about Business. These are the best examples of Business Death poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Verse |

Ding Dong The Wicked Witch is Dead

Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Thatcher’s dead.

Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Thatcher’s dead.

Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Thatcher’s dead.

Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Thatcher’s dead.


Details | Rhyme |

You Were The Best Mother, Until the Alzheimers Ruined Everything

Sixteen  years ago this week you died,
It was such a shock, I cried and cried. 
But deep in my heart, it didn't feel as if you had just died.
to me your illness took away my mother,.
And left some one else there, another
Someone who didn't even know the time of day
or even what day it was, Monday or Saturday.
You couldn't even make a cup of tea,
let alone keep your flat, like it used to be.
You phoned me constantly day and night.
I tried to get to see you, with all of my might.
But I couldn't do it, not then at all,
then you had that dreadful fall.
You didn't know what agoraphobia was.
I couldn't tell you well, because.
You hated the home we had to put you in,
but by then you couldn't do a thing.
Alzhiemer's, senile dementia, i’m not
even sure what you had.
All I know is, it was very bad
It robbed .me of my mother so many years
before she actually died..
We couldn't get through to you,
no matter how hard we tried.
You lived in a little, world of your own,
making us all feel so alone.
You used to be so clever, so strong, so true,
 Then just look what this illness did to you.
you used to knit, sew all our clothes you did make,
everything we ate, you did bake.
When you were younger such good jobs you had.
like ten whole years at the Nat.West.Bank.
before the war. 
Then seven years nursing the soldiers during the war.
After you married and had us two.
You still worked so hard, so much to do,
For years you ran the taxi business we had.
throughout the good and even the bad.
I had to answer the phone at four years of age
(Haywood’s taxi’s) I would say,
Then our business folded through, 
you still worked so hard' so much to do.
With my father you managed the (bridgford wine stores)
on melton road, west bridgford, for many years,
Then on parliament street to
  ( Smith Englefield ) you went
,You worked there for many years 
until to ( gem ) you were sent
You worked so hard,all of your life,
A wonderfull mother, a wonderfull wife
You were the best mother, anyone could have had, 
until your illness,made everything so bad,
So please god in heaven above,
Please send my mother all our love.


Details | Free verse |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’


Details | Acrostic |

Love came down at Christmas

L Long ago travelled Kings
O Opened their minds to prophecies
V Visiting from afar they brought gifts of Gold, Fracincense and Myrrh
E Eastern Star guiding them lighting the way

C Company of Heavenly Host
A Allelujah! Angels appeared to Shepherds, telling Savior born
M Manger for bed wrapped in cloths in Town of David
E Evangelically proclaimed Christ the Lord

D December 25th designated day
O On which we recollect
W Why/way Christ entered our world
N Nativity only part of His story

A A new testament
T Tells of new covenant between God and His people

C Christ's coming to Earth
H Hailed as new born King, Holy
R Risen Lord, righteous redeemer, 
I Intercedes for us as
S Spiritual Saviour to save sinners souls
T Time for Truth, Trust, Trinity
M Man's belief in God of Love,  
A As Father Son and Holy Spirit
S Shall be saved


Details | Blank verse |

he is leaving home

                             
                  In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
                       as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores 
                      for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `

                    Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
                       The red album, The blue album , The White album 
                        Then .. Abbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
                  Ringo's face , knowing something hard to understand underneath~
                       
                      I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
                    the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears 
                    For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one . It wanted silence

                    Going back ..remembering when John Lennon died 
                      I was in Arkansas saddened with the world .
                      Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it " 
                      No .. this was not my hero in music and song .

                       for he was a stand in hired William Cambell  , he filled his shoes 
                      only to bring diversity and to create so much beautiful music from loss

                       One left standing , alone whom looked grief struck on back cover ~
                       The other identity hidden, tried to be part of ..coming together
                                                                                                                                                                   In  his        
                              world  of   secrets
                        He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
                       
                        Too many years gone by .let us tell the Truth. Let us be free
                         The very sad long and winding Road ~
                         Let us Bury our real Paul. 

                         No more " Mystery tour "
                             No more fear 
                                Let him be in peace ~


           Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "

                






Details | Rhyme |

4 - Messenger from the Dead

Alas there is no more confusion,
finally found my last conclusion.
Expect me as if Jesus will return,
from a ghost to a realm of concern.

Your dreams are portals like doors,
welcoming spirits into hasten wars.
Leaving the thoughts without trust,
keeping your fears in much disgust.

And though you sought no consequence,
deeds that confirm a wicked malevolence.
Awaiting in your nightmare of screams,
enjoy what is left amongst your dreams.


Details | Couplet |

Unknown

Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?

Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.

And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.

I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep. 

Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.

And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.


Details | Ekphrasis (Ecphrasis) |

To Whom It May Concern

To Whom it may concern,
the chances of my letter reaching you
are as slim as a message in a bottle.
My words throttle in waves of desolate emotion.
As common at it may be,
the moral to the message at sea is "Chance".
To Whom it may concern,
the chances of my letter reaching you
are as slim as a baby walking without a waddle.
My words throttle in falls of desolate emotion.
As common as it may be,
the moral of the waddling baby is "Chance".
To whom it may concern,
the chances of my letter reaching you
are as slim as a sponsor less model.
My words throttle in bankrupts of desolate emotion.
As common as it may be,
the moral to the model's degree is "Chance".
To Whom it may concern,
The chances of my letter reaching you are slim.
Because of my desolate emotions, I try any how.
As common as it may be,
It's by chance that one day you might hear me
Sincerely, To Whom it may concern


Details | Free verse |

Work

Work.
Toil.
The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
Corn. 
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
Work. 
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.


©Demand4poetry
21 February 2013


Details | Rhyme |

Nothing More Or Less

Millions of lives and souls untold
And to account it all
Words, lines, films
Imagination trims
A sliver of soft, scarlet ribbon
Hollywood rounds
Quills deliver
Writers flare with passion so strong
Filling minds with fantasies, reveries, histories
Tragedies
We consume it all like freshly baked bread
We feed until we are engorged and fed
A viral, universal mess
Ideas and unmade memories
Nothing more or less

My eyes remain glued to the screen
Living it all out
Tears dare to flow—to doubt
I should have thought of that
Can I truly let myself believe,
Someone else lived that!
Pound away your directors, script-writers, fighters
For miles and miles of stories remain unread
While the unknown remain in the grounds of humble malnourishment
Dead
Careers for the mind with a twist of the fable
Left us savage for the meal and the crumbs under the table
I can never let the raw truth rest
Naked, bare and empty—soothed
Nothing more or less

I cringed for originality 
Observed the world through the unedited scripts
The very act, the poetry pact
The wild animal drooling in the back
I was slapped in the face by my boss who had cracked
As the reviews bloated less and less
They wanted something awful, something flaw-ful—something new
And this empty brain in agony—HISSED 
I have lived in no epic battle of account
Of the collateral sufferings of my brothers
The stories the red carpet smothers
And still I ache to create
Before the other ones discover
I returned with ‘‘oh me’s’ and ‘oh my’s’’
With a work of pure genius—a storybook of lies
Nothing more or less

Little have I lacked to dream
Of contortioned pulls and dramatic fire
Stories that rarely brittle or tire
I fiddled with precious glass on edge
Foully eager for self-damage
As if it would trigger some legitimate spark 
Searching for creatures and features in the dark
No one unlocked the passage that night
For the starving idea-parched malice of right
But all welcomed with open arms
A pale mannequin filled with jewels and charms
Consuming, fuming dooming
All ghosts hoping, screaming, looming
Hoping that one day they would find themselves on the big screen
Their legacy real as it can possibly get
Nothing more or less


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