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Samuel Puhachevsky Poem
By the river in the silent morning sat a particular stone,
Among many, but it stood alone.
The little stone had a plan,
It wanted to cross the river’s span
With all the others, it jumped with its unique stride
And after starting, it joined the tide
With every toss, a leap of faith,
In the dance of the river, the skip’s wraith.
Why was this stone the chosen one?
Its tale skips under the golden sun.
Could it make it to the depth’s mystery?
That’s only a tale of the bridge’s history.
The longer it took, the more rounds passed.
It was proving its worth, steadfast to the last.
It had to make it; the end was near,
With each bouncing stride, it conquered fear.
The skipping stone told its stories,
Of arcing flights and watery glories.
After everything, the stone went through,
It reached the end, its journey true.
All the bridges crossed, and it sunk through the water’s kiss,
It’s skipping legacy, a moment of bliss.
This journey was it, the stone’s test.
It made it to its final rest.
Copyright © Samuel Puhachevsky | Year Posted 2023
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Samuel Puhachevsky Poem
Excitement radiatin' from her body
Sun glistening down at walking dolly,
Azure eyes engaged in small and big blooms
Sniffer gravitates to the perfumes,
Vast bag hangs off the back with snacks
So, on lengthy voyage, they don't collapse,
Head-to-toe embellished in bright attire
Impatient to get higher and higher,
ear-to-ear smile glued to symmetric face
As weather declines, so does the pace,
Crystals trickling from clouds and feeding herbs
And yet, her only worry is about the worms,
The angels' tears washed down her dirt and sins
And above a tune of playing violins,
Her hyper voice was heard from miles away
But still, the ones behind began to stray,
The good Samaritan helps two behind
And yet both, unfazed, walked slowly reclined,
As time ticks towards four, there's less sunbeams
Instead mountains tip touch, the heavens gleams.
Copyright © Samuel Puhachevsky | Year Posted 2023
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Samuel Puhachevsky Poem
With clicks and tweets, the bright world at his feet,
Dressed with glimmer, he dances to the beat.
His tweets fly fast, in hope they trend and hatch,
Likes or swipes, trying to find a match.
Living the sad, virtual world, he dances,
He sees opportunities and prances.
No time for connections, no time for life,
Stabbing his reality with a knife.
A journey so far, trying to waste time,
Sacrificing all, for a single dime.
Oh, Mister Capitalist, go outside.
Just money, and no life, he stays inside.
Playing with his words, shaping modern day,
He does what’s preferred, in his savvy way.
Entering undiscovered social space,
He makes dreams appear, and he finds his place.
Laptop frozen, he reads books to get smarts,
Staring down data on charts just like darts.
Darts, a wonderful game he plays alone,
He calculates all scenarios shown.
His investor career from nine to four,
Working days nonstop, evading the poor.
Gazing ahead, he claims the winner’s spot;
In front of all trends, his treasure grew hot.
In stock world, the crowd’s response is sincere,
His portfolio flew high up, with no fear.
More to come, he earns profits left and right,
If only he stumbled on Market’s bite.
His dazzling suit with a rolex watch,
Laying down in his new yacht, drinking scotch.
He invested early and led with ease,
Now it came crashing, his fortunes to seize.
Reputation destroyed, devastated,
Jinxed by the trolls, sadly, he was baited.
Mister’s life on Wall Street is now over,
His three yachts all sold off, he is sober.
Buried alive, his spirit in his tomb,
The real world is just a realm of doom.
Mister Venture Capitalist, past king
He quits the fight in Wall Street’s boxing ring.
Copyright © Samuel Puhachevsky | Year Posted 2023
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