Quatrain Business Poems | Quatrain Poems About Business

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Details | Quatrain |

Titanic Forever

My father had been out of work for way too long.
At night, I often heard him and mom weep
Food was scant, but love was strong. 
As was that hunger pain when I lay to sleep.

My little brother was too young to understand.
Still a babe in arms, he brought our only smiles.
I loved to play with him and hold his tiny hand.
It seemed to take away the hurt from life trials.

Then, one-day dad came home all excited.
He was talking so fast, grinning from ear to ear.
He said that our future was well fated.
That we were in for adventure was clear.

It was that new ocean liner, the Titanic. 
Dad had been hired for the maiden voyage.
We were going along as his sidekick.
A family destined for American homage.

In just five days we boarded that ship.
Immigrating was a dream come true.
Accommodations would be a hardship.
But it was worth opportunities…new.

Dad worked as a scullion in the restaurant.
We were housed on the lower deck.
It was a very crowded lodgment.
We stayed together until the shipwreck.

Sirens were screeching people screaming.
We could not find dad anywhere.
Was he locked up as a cageling?
Could it be true; was he trapped down there?

Lifeboats were being lowered.
Mom held my brother, crying.
Dad must be somewhere cloistered.
We all feared a dreadful dying.

Someone put me in a lifeboat.
I reached for mom as it descended.
The Titanic was still afloat.
But my family separated.

The water was freezing.
I had forgotten my coat.
People crying, sniffling, and sneezing.
The lifeboat soon became an iceboat.

Within a few hours, death began.
Shivering, I crawled beneath two corpses.
A young girl destined to live without her clan.
Hidden from polar breezes.

That was the last time I saw my mother.
My mind holds the image clearly.
She, calling for dad, was cuddling brother.
Oh, how I loved my family dearly.

When rescuers finally arrived.
I was the only one alive in the lifeboat.
Beneath those bodies, I survived.
Then, I was wrapped in a warm coat.

I never did see America.
I was sent to an orphanage back home.
Life had dealt a great trauma.
Forever had sunken in the ocean's foam.

© April 9, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest:  My heart will go on and on.... Free Poetry 
Sponsor	Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2012

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Large Dress Maker

To the right of my screen, what should I see? There’s a plus-sized blonde wearing a dress that’s pretty. Kudos to you for making clothes for the large lady. Those are the kinds of women that appeal to me. What you are selling them really looks nice. Your clothing does justice for a big girl at a good price. I want to see a woman of mine in your dress. For the business you are in, I wish you success.

Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2013

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Wilderness is a Crowded street

Wilderness is a crowded street.

Silence stings the ears of the hearer,
Cacophony of sound, unheard.
Loneliness turns to solitude,
Converse without a word.

Wilderness is a crowded street.
A passer-by nobody sees.
Togetherness now disjointed,
Run! I feel their disease.

Money is their mind set
Full wallet yet they're poor.
A heart of gold inside me,
Theirs, an open sore!

Some own the World, yet are bankrupt,
Emotionally discharged black-holes.
Shiny shoes that point to nowhere,
Prices, still on their soles.

All the broken people,
Nobody tells me why.
Orphaned, divorced, mistaken,
I'll not lay down to die.

To roll over and just take it,
Is what they'd like us to do.
So let's all speak out, be counted,
Not be part, of the Zoo!

Copyright © Chris Matthews | Year Posted 2014

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You women
Know how to make 
The best of what you've got in you
You do it everyday in your life

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2013

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Toaster Strudel Trochee

<                                       Toaster Strudel - Trochee

                                        I just crave toaster strudel
                                        Piping hot pastry
                                        Cool icing so can doodle
                                        Kellogg's bakery

                                        So get to popping me one 
                                        Time to used noodle
                                        Pop tarts boring just no fun
                                        Choose toaster strudel

Meter: 7/5/7/5 
Rhyme Scheme: a/b/c/b or a/b/a/b

The meter is trochee, which means alternating stressed and unstressed beats in each line, with each line beginning and ending in a stressed syllable. This is a simple lyrical type little poem, so rhymes will be basic, nothing fancy. The poem itself should give a description of something of interest to the poet and often the meter lends itself to humor, much as a limerick does. There is not a set number of these quatrain type stanzas, but a typical 7/5 Trochee would consist of two quatrains, with the second stanza serving to tie up the idea presented in the first stanza.

Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2012

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wasted my time

No curse words allowed
are you confused, lost, ignorant
you are no artist, you have shunned art
and its true purpose
what is art? but an expression
the low and vile are the most potent
Did you forget, Emerson The Poet
He would call you "selfish and sensual"
"an umpire of taste"
"proof of the shallowness of the doctrine of beauty"
in a world of suffering, of loss
Art isnt happy, and flowers in the park
you, in your confusion, hide in the dark
hide any truths of pain and suffering
and by doing so you have lost your soul
You are only half a person
art is an expression of life and its hidden
what is in a word? something to hide from?
something to fear? to censor? to fight?
are you that ashamed of language?
honesty? expressions of shame?
You are no poet, no artist
you are no immortal, 
of course you are so cowardly and weak
you will hide from me, censor me,
avoid the truth, lie to the world
if you cant stomach a curse word
then you cant handle me 
any immortal would crush you
and leave you wounded
truly contemplating your life
breaking you open, forcing you alive
then, maybe then, you will have an emotion,
worthy of expression into art. 
but dont get mad at me, angry or hurt
You may just use a curse word

Copyright © Michael Harman | Year Posted 2009

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Glad iPad

Glad iPad so capable that you just can’t dismiss it, 
And it’s your best buddy as it’s always near, around;
Thin lightweight, you have the power of a sys, the kit, 
As it can do anything which a computer does hound. 

You can buy and download apps to place them too, 
On any desktop: third, fourth, fifth or even the sixth,  
But you need to remember to move your long queue, 
Of iBooks onto your iCloud to make space xenolith.

It’s beautiful to look at as it’s pleasing to the eye, 
Full 9.7” display with 2048x1536 resolution clarity,
Which is 3.1 million pixels or 3145728 dots to cry,
Out your every screen call and your vids in lucidity. 

6.1mm thin and you can fill at ease a 64 bit memory,
It’s dynamic graphics provide A8X chip performance,
An M8 motion coprocessor for your gaming allegory,
And you can sit on it for 10 hours, no charger glance.

The first desktop, the opening screen gives a space, 
Of so many different apps for your fine enjoyment: 
Photos, the iBooks, mags, Notes and the clock face,
Calendar, Maps, Games, and the Settings cement. 

And lets not forget about the necessities at the base, 
Email, Safari and iTunes to give instant access, grab, 
And the App Store as well - blue - does deftly encase, 
Infinite games, word processors and sports apps fab.  

Passcode mandatory, nobody invited or to be let in, 
Your close relationships can’t render you violated, 
Because your private messages are your own bin, 
And your own elevation is by your pith proliferated. 

And now the Pro Pencil for budding artists, painters, 
Who want to digitally sketch, draft or paint portrait: 
You can rest your hand on the screen without errors, 
And it draws lines, if you pressure, of any weight. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2016

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Pinching Napkins

I'm shuffling trays of food
and placing them up front.
I'm spilling on the way
in stains I'll later hunt.

I'm ever pinching napkins
and wiping spots of sauce.
Forever wiping up them
so later I can toss.

I've piled the garbage higher
with sweet and sour rags.
Left scrunched into a bow
to finish them of drags.

I'll order in more napkins
to later fill the rack.
But first I'll make some more sauce.
A dish from Sally Trac.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2014

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Old Coffee

I'll only charge you fifty cents.
Here, take back the change.
It's old and you won't like it much.
It tastes a little strange.

Thankyou much, but I don't care.
I'll even drink it old.
Please take back your quarters
despite my being told.

No; you take for fifty cents.
I'd rather you do that.
Please take back your quarters
and pay two quarters flat.

Thankyou Sally, that's okay.
You're generous to a tee.
Just fifty cents sounds much too good,
but I will pay your fee.

Go now please; you waste my time.
Please; just take my deal.
The library must have kicked you out
upon your back and heel.

The library's open still to say
I'm only out of time.
The computer simply timed me out
and no one's sorry as I'm.

Come back later if you want
and  you can pay full price.
The coffee will be fresher then
and cost for you suffice.

It's okay Sally
Thanks again.
We'll talk more with you later.
and I will see you -then.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2014

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By and by here
Busy can tell,
Look to good cheer
To cast fond spell.

Ooze and squeeze flood
To tell of joy,
Wit in sure blood
Works faith's employ.

Line by line greet
The outer surge,
See how things meet
The inner urge.

Feel heart and soul
In body-mind,
Know a clear whole
That feels in kind.

Thought by thought seed
A rush to merge,
Ideas fund need
To splash and purge.

Sculpt and set now
With fine insight,
See love endow
Life with sure light.

Rhyme by rhyme sing
A song of jest,
Busy can fling
Such buoyant fest.

Here and there see
Peace beyond space,
Time is a sea
Where grace funds face.

Sigh by sigh hurl
A face in time,
Words can now curl
As music chimes.

Go beyond flesh
In poise that knows,
Love primes a dash
In sparkling show.

Touch by touch seeds
A divine flame,
Sense wants and needs
In dance that names.

Live moments well
With ample heart,
Love ever dwells
In poignant art.

Leon Enriquez
24 May 2015

Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2015

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Pop Can Sally

Pop can Sally stock my pop.
Push the new stuff back!
Bring the old stuff to the front
and space them just a crack.

Sell me one to quench my thirst
but make me get my own.
Reaching further to the back
where cooler ones are known.

Take my change from out of pocket.
Thanks for this cold pop.
Refreshing when I pull it's tab
and help to blow it's top.

Guzzling down what rushes out
and soon to quench my thirst.
Swallowing it quickly now;
allowing it to burst.

Empty now a once full can.
Thirsty nevermore.
Thanks to Sally and her pop.
The Pop Can Sally Store.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2013

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And you all thought
that after reaching home,
I would jump in the shower so fast
and off to bed...I'd snooze to end my boredom?

On my lunch hour I take a light nap,
it's beneficial to your health the doctor confidently says;
and should I ever see a scary, black cat
running across my windshield...a nightmare surely begins.

Working hard in a warehouse
with people and forklifts in full swing,
I must be more alert than a mouse
being chased by a bunch of hungry cats drooling.

To sit at my desk and write a poem for a new contest:
is a challenging and rewarding experience for an obscure poet;
and while others sleep and their spirits float in mysterious dreams,
I reflect over the rhetoric language of what life seems. 

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010

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His cards weren't drawn yet he reeked of falsehood
eyes twitching back as he, in the hall, stood
Watching the room, the players at hand
watching and waiting and hatching a plan

As he entered he knew that he couldn't retreat
shuffling...shuffling... His cards and his feet
The faces all watched as he entered the room
their gazes threatening an imminent doom

But the queen would never make his heart break
the king's many diamonds not lure him astray
He learned not to play suits but to play personalities
the various suites were just technicalities

With his tricks almost over, the game almost won...
he was escorted out at the hands of a gun
You see the royalty just won't let you play poker
Not when they find it's at the hands of  joker

Copyright © An Anomaly | Year Posted 2016

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Give Laziness No Business

Surely you can achieve, if you try
To take honest efforts, feel not shy
In case your aim is nobly Sky-high
Great miracles, may catch your eye

By practicing with real enthusiasm
With your mind filled with optimism
You will invariably get dynamism
And acquire power of mesmerism

Laziness will fetch defeat as a result
As you will feel living is very difficult
No great medals are tied in your belt
Continuous losses will come to insult

If you prefer to keep quiet and snore
You do nothing for the World to adore
Your presence, the World will ignore
As you regard hard-work as a bore

My dear Comrade, wake up now
Do a superior task with real love
To do a noble deed, take a vow
You will be helped by God-above.




Copyright © mv venkataraman | Year Posted 2011

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Moves in sure cites,
Meet lines that come;
Feel ink spur writes,
Work contest sum.

Words forge music,
Touch of thought strains;
Voice plain magic,
Pain blossoms gain.

Topic styles poise,
In-between gaps;
Wonder frames choice,
Turn that word tap.

Follow the rules,
Hear then stray sounds;
Stretch that strange tool,
Lift choice that grounds.

Words claim due prize,
Cull weary form;
Work rhyme and heist,
Scream in mad storm.

Leon Enriquez
30 April 2016

Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2016

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Your Eggrolls Are Dry

Your eggrolls aren't dry.
Your eggrolls aren't wet.
You say they're just right.
like it's some sort of threat.

You hand me an eggroll
along with a plum sauce.
I can tell you're still mad
as your eyes start to uncross.

This time there's no bag.
could it be a small hint.
Is it time to say sorry
for that eye with a glint.

It's a fresh tasty eggroll.
Not too dry; nor to wet.
It's your present to me
with my thanks and my debt.

I can never repay you
for the food you confect.
but more than your eggrolls
it is you that's perfect.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2014

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Its Unfinished Business

It’s Unfinished Business

Knowing so well that you have the answer, 
To church, Christian theology and beliefs, 
That’s it’s just a mental illness majestic, 
That they’re really only sanity thieves. 

Shut up by the Youth Fellowship leader, 
Who used disability and loneliness techniques, 
Under the shelf of nobility, ruined asunder, 
By their communication fabric and cliques. 

Pleasured by evolution, overjoyed, focussed,  
Able to express that meaning to be given, 
Wanting to tell the whole story, not discussed, 
Of behaviour, choice, sex and genetics, driven. 

Going away for a bit, but will come back,  
From those debates on creationism/evolution, 
It’s unfinished business, the reply yack, 
Time will give me my worth and derivation. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2016

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Cleaning Sally

Sally's wiping the walls
and the walls are wailing out.
Ripples from within them
shouting clean and clout.

Surfaces seen shining;
glaring they're looked after,
from one small tiny rag
with Sally as it's Master.

Echoes round the roomside
Sally's tamed with cleaner.
Scents invade your nostrills
as cleanliness got meaner.

Oasis's reflecting
in glass around the room
as images and mirrors
merge as if to bloom.

Squeeking little wipes
as Sally rubs her rag.
Music in the air
and joy from in a drag

Smiles surrounding Sally.
Her clean from in her cloud,
with radiating beauty
and Sally standing proud.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2014

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Hopelessly Helpless

I woke up from sleeping and found myself eating
a piece of old barley bread.
While feeding on breakfast, I thought it most unjust
that yours was a warm one instead.

Though willow branch bends, it cannot make amends
to a place that I'm sitting between.
A rock and a hard place that's hopeless to face -
and torment, the greatest I've seen.

My great sacrifice just wouldn't suffice.
These shoes that I wear aren't by choice.
"We can't refinance" was the bank's 'song and dance'
but who would hear my little voice?

Despite life-long effort, they're selling me short,
my business at such a great cost.
The bank never spared because they hadn't cared,
hence millions of dollars were lost.

So don't store up treasures for everyday pleasures,
in things of this earth that will rust.
The great love of money has never been funny,
for only in God should we trust.

It's so disconcerting my children are hurting,
yet hopelessly helpless I am.
Despite expectations to pay obligations,
I now can't help any of them.

I sit in the shade of these problems they made.
This willow tree weeps with me too.
The moral of story is not really gory
if we've learned a lesson or two.

Those decades of years bring me sad lonely tears
for they took everything that I had.
But what greater loss - than was Christ's on the cross?
I maybe don't have it so bad.

©2012 louis gander - www.ganderpoems.org

Copyright © louis gander | Year Posted 2016

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There are things one must do,
In this world to survive,
If one's to get through,
This life and contrive,

Not to lean on the goodness,
Of those that we love,
And expect them to put,
Our own welfare above,

The things that they need,
For their own livlihood.
One prepares for one's future,
As everyone should.

A rebel is one,
Who ignores all the rules,
And looks on the wise,
As sheep and as fools,

For deciding to follow,
A straight, narrow path,
And steer clear of trouble,
And clean up their act;

For in making decisions,
You decide your own fate,
And trial and error,
Brings wisdom too late.

You'll lose in the long run,
Unless you can learn,
Your mistakes must be paid for,
And honor is earned,

When you take care of business,
And keep your nose clean,
And follow the rules,
'stead of fighting the reigns.

Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2011

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Tim Horton's Team

Tim Hortons hired just the girl
who laughed to fill the time.
The others being just as pleasant
would laugh along in rhyme.

Their work would keep them very busy
while rhythm kept their beat.
Together they were off and dancing
with passion in their feet.

As customers came to rushing in.
Their line began to sway.
The radio from above going on
that each enjoyed the stay.

With service being fast for most.
This day a customer's dream.
The passion being felt by all
and all the Horton's Team.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2016

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The Price

Listlessly he feeds the pigeons, 
strutting proudly in the park; 
kicking at an empty coke can, 
gravity has left its mark. 

Nattily attired he's one of 
many other CEOs 
high atop the corporate ladder, 
highly thought of, (what a pose!) 

Tired of mergers, acquisitions, 
weary of the daily stress; 
where's the joy, the satisfaction, 
where's the bliss of happiness? 

Hamptons cottage never lived in, 
cabin cruiser barely used; 
his wife's begun divorce proceedings, 
claims that she has been abused. 

Son and daughter - Utah, Texas, 
never sees them anymore; 
dad's too busy making millions, 
economics, what a bore! 

Who'd have thought a Wharton graduate 
with a double PhD 
would spend his lunch hour feeding pigeons, 
kicking coke cans listlessly. 

In his three-room penthouse office 
with a prospect of Times Square 
he seals another hefty contract, 
he has lost the will to care.

Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2015

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i've got dreams for sale
the disheviled dealer said
yeah, well that's a very big deal
because someone usually ends up dead

in hushed tones he attempts to tempt
but the only dreams he plies are bad
from humanity the man ought be exempt
because the dreams he offers are not a fad

too oft it's a rest of your life type thing
unless you get some help early on
no fad, no fun, no fair and no fling
alas dope will make you wasted and wan

pssst dude, i've got magic brown
he furtively informs
well i see the destituion all around
and i see raging opiate storms

disheveled, dastardly, down and out
the dope dealer has a devistating plan
fori can tell you sans any doubt
because i am that dealer man
  (c) 2013 copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2013

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At The Pawn Shop

How could you do such a terrible thing? You just pawned your deceased father’s ring. Think about that ring’s sentimental value. To get cash, could there have been other things to do? That guy is a shyster with his business dealings and such. I’ll bet the amount you got was not much. I kept telling you to stay out of that casino. However, with your money, you continued to go. Who pays for all that ritzy ambience and décor that you see? The casinos get it from losers like you and me. It is only normal that gamblers should lose their money. If there’s a big win, it’s considered an abnormality. Whatever you get each month you don’t save. I’ll bet your old man is turning over in his grave. With this money, go to the pawn shop today. I want you to get that ring back right away.

Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2013

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the talking heads are also comics
these economic geniuses after years
are spouting praises of Misernomics
quick study concluded we're in arrears

and need to decapitalize life today
don't spend anything you ain't got
to forestall our tomorrow going away
good advice founding fathers caught

and don't pay for what you don't need
so therefore we'll cut back education
sound advice in sane person might heed
to better manage our bankrupt nation

and health and vitality merely frills
no need to waste our coins on want
when trying to cover economic ills
monetary mismanagement returns to haunt

what we want is to address our need
to count ourselves and sum our greed
those roads, bridges, electrical grids
mattered back when the things we did

were more important than take home pay
we'll keep it all and count it up
what you knew then, has now gone astray
soon Spend-it-omics could again erupt

our future, our kids, our progeny all
"This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want"
matters minor, in our countless pall
our poorest desire, the possible, too daunt

in the mean time we say "thanks a bunch"
We'll save our lives for better times
food for thought on societies free lunch
We'll save our monied economic crimes

as Silas Marner tabled reclusive coins
no weighty matters outweigh the economy
these fearful economic times purloined
might priorities reflect our tragicomedy?

© Goode Guy 2011-07-06

we're counting...on you

Copyright © Goode Guy | Year Posted 2011

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The Company Name of Apple Computers

That astronomical breakthrough so intelligent, 
Sparkling with reason, sensitivity and song, 
Understanding those to strict religion diligent, 
Pleading with them to join in and come along. 

Fundamentalist’s participation in modern society, 
Can only be good both for the many and for them,  
And connecting home computing with the fruity,  
With nature and the natural, illuminated tech’s stem. 

They didn’t understand that technology comes from, 
A programmer and not the devil or derives itself, 
And that the programmer thinks of us with his prom, 
That more tech means a better world for the shelf. 

Moreover, a bit of fruit every day will keep you well, 
And an apple a day would certainly do that as it is said, 
So we are reminded by the apple icon that your swell, 
Everyday in every way by your computer can be read. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2016

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Apple to Pay Tax Back

The EU Commissioner to do with competition, 
Ruled against Apple’s avoidance of Euro tax,
By homing itself in southern Ireland, evasion, 
Where it doesn’t pay tax in a double Irish fax. 

One ramification of Brexit is that the good EU, 
Will be looking in this divorce proceedings interim, 
At other filters of finance for its adhesive glue,  
At other ways to support its productions and vim. 

The thing is, I expected this rational reflection, 
For some time, since the many shamed the greats, 
When in 2015 Amazon was sought for collection, 
Along with Google and Starbucks, at the gates. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2016

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With the Quickness

With the quickness ...
unprecedented corporate rise
Fabulous omni-view sky work space,
immune to boardroom gossip sickness

Poker-face negotiator disguise ...
keep the key competition guessing
Do the necessary background homework,
anticipate any proprietary lies

Next gen capitalist with no corruption trace ...
squint the inside of planetary councils
Logic sequencing of managerial decisions,
investors' hugs are a burgeoning dividend embrace

Lawyers love the legal byzantine thickness ...
corner the market on low g orbital gear
Warp expansion of the company's political assets,
explains how a lowly rock hopper ascends with the quickness

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017

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No More Elementary

I hate going to school 
BUt, I love going to the pool 
I hate when I get worried 
I always start to scurry 
I hate school lunch 
But, I don't mind the brunch 
When I eat the chicken patty 
I act a little bratty.    

                                                              No More Elementary 
                                                                               Jared Houck

Copyright © Amy Merrell | Year Posted 2013

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Tim Horton's

I'm off to Horton's!
Where's my coat?
Where's my gloves
and hat I tote?

Head to wind
I walk the path
with all my strength
within God's wrath.

Losing time
I start to wander.
'Behold' the stars;
their size I ponder.

Getting close
my feet relax.
I gaze ahead.
The wind it slacks.

I reach the door
and pull the handle.
Air rushes out
warm as a candle.

The lights a-glare.
There's several tables.
I place my order
and spread my fables.

I take my seat
and rest my coffee
then raise it up.
My arms like toffee.

The sip is bitter
but starts to quench.
I swallow gently.
My throat a-drench.

I sit and rest.
Half hour aside.
Get up to leave.
My hunger subside.

I exit quick
fresh with air.
Head held high
and head of hair.

I'm headed home
without goodbye's
and at my back
the other's eyes.

I look ahead
toward my home
and move my feet
and start to roam.

I will come back
and won't forget:
I love Tim Horton's
without regret.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2014