Writing Business Poems

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Details | Shape |
                       The narrow path
                           to treason
                            is only
                            a word
                             away.
                           To falter 
                            in your 
                            reason
                          or explore
                        unauthorized
                           dissent.
                        To question
                      fearless leaders
                        or a decision
                      from the bench.
                      The narrow path
                          to failure,
                           oppose
                       the status quo
                          and down
                             you 
                              go.

Copyright © Dean Walker | Year Posted 2005




Details | Verse |
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.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |
When I take a long time,I am slow,
When my boss takes a long time he is thorough.
When I don't do it I'm lazy,
When my boss doesn't do it he's busy.
When I do something without being told I'm trying to be smart,
When my boss does the same,that is initiative.
When I please my boss I'm apple-polishing,
When my boss pleases his boss,he's co-operating.
When I do good,my boss never remembers,
When I do wrong, he never FORGETS!!

Copyright © NWANDO OBIANYOR | Year Posted 2007




Details | Rhyme |
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

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Pastor Warren’s church in Orange County, Unity of Tustin too
There’s hardly anyone not affected; it’s sad but it’s true
Bottom lines are red, tithes & love offerings are lower
More people out of work, homes in foreclosure
Spending is dropping, business is slower.

Statistics say on average 34.5% of every dollar earned 
pays for interest on debt. Is that true? 
What if it’s more? What if it’s less? 
Whatever the difference, that’s surely a lot
When you think what it costs you to have what you got.

What if that interest could be diverted, transformed
to fund your kids’ education, your retirement
community resources & relief 
for those out of work or losing their homes
It can be done with technology available now
Put to use in a way not thought of before

I have an idea and I’m writing it down
We’ll create an annex to churches
much like is already done
with bookstores & day care & special events
It would house a credit union providing micro loans
teach entrepreneurship, financial solutions, education & more

We’ll have an internet café with alive water & foods
A venue for learning & networking & exploring strategies anew
We’ll find new ways to earn, to live, to spend & to save
In this place where we’ll gather to nurture, to nourish, to share & to have

Robert Kiyosaki of Rich Dad, Poor Dad lore
Said that the rich learn to network, the rest of us learn to look for a job
And when the jobs disappear
As they have this past year
Do we just throw up our hands & cry
What’s there to do? Oh me, oh my!

The Dalai Lama in September said
The world will be saved by the western woman
Which woman? you ask. Could it be me? Is he referring to you? 

I’m the center of my universe; you’re the center of yours
Can I save my world? Will you claim the power to save yours?

Community Wellspring
Water, Wellness, Wisdom and Wealth
An annex to churches
A model for living in today’s chaotic world
A solution whose time has come

Funded by interest currently paid to the bank
I’ll show you how, you’ll have UFirst to thank
It isn’t alchemy or magic; it’s just purely math
When you see how it works, you’ll probably laugh

And when we organize and network, we’ll create new revenue
For the churches, the community, for me and for you
By coming together, our world’s losses will end
We’ll be a force to contend with, our limitations transcend

Be a part of the solution
at From Debt To Equity dot com
It’s 2010
We are in charge of our destiny
Let’s make this a Breakthrough Year
…and do this thing

Copyright © Linda Witt-King | Year Posted 2009

Details | Haiku |
the debt ceiling talk
led to so much tension that 
the room's ceiling burst

Copyright © Cathy Ncube | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
Here they go again.
anything to win,
indulging
in shameless 
self-promotion.
layin’ it on thick, 
	makin’ sure it sticks,
		slappin’ it on like lotion.

“click my stuff,
and I’ll click yours too.
wanna feel like the best 
even though 
it ain’t true?”

back n’ forth complements
are so self defeating.
inflating other’s heads for praise 
is a blatant way
of cheating.

“do unto others”
but don’t lie, 
to boost their ego.
misleading them 
to raise their hopes 
should clearly be illegal.

no need to read 
a word
of their work
while scratching their backs 
bare.
skimmin’ 
	skippin’ 
		scannin’…
all’s fair
in tactical 
warfare.

poets thought to be adored 
while chewin’ truth’s gristle.
before you swallow,
broke a tooth that hurt
like a damn 
lit 
missile. 

feeding on lines 
with hidden agendas 
is worse
than bein’ ignored.
cuz’ when you find 
copy n’ pasted comments, 
your hopes 
are sadly floored.

how about 
reading and endorsing work
you actually enjoy,
instead of 
feedin’ folks a line of crap 
laced with praise 
and “atta-boys!”

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain |
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

Details | Haiku |
Inspiration lost Deadline is approaching fast Paper white as snow

Copyright © Ryan Vaterlaus | Year Posted 2011

Details | I do not know? |
I’m writing “Dear John” letters to John Deere
I can’t afford the gas hikes and continue to farm here
So I’m writing “Dear John” letters to John Deere

John, you’re quite the fashion statement in your yellow and your green
You’ve seen me through the good times; you’ve seen me through the lean
You’ve always been there for me as I plowed the field
You deserve the accolades for every yearly yield
But, John, we must part company despite our wondrous past
For, John, you have depleted me, I can’t afford your gas

I thought that this would end it; I thought my thoughts were clear
I thought we would part peacefully; the end was Oh so near
When I wrote this “Dear John” letter to John Deere

But letters can’t convey the heartache that I feel
Through all those years together – the wounds that will not heal
For letters are mere word groups and simply can’t replace
The finality of endings that takes place face to face
So I’m out here with my John Deere, the key within my hand
I turn it, slip out of the seat, and walk away a man

Oh, he’ll find another farmer who can afford his bill
I’ll see him on another farm parked up there on a hill
The yields won’t be as profitable as when we were together
And I’ll think about him often but I know it’s for the better
I’ll have to go back farming as my forefathers did back here
And forget the years together that we had – me and John Deere

Copyright © mike dailey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

~JSLambert
© 2011 JSL

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
free verse

German workaholic, 
jilted as a young bride
never knew a lover's grace
denying a broken heart
she studied marketing

Munich melodramatic, 
content within her world of work
no romantic evenings, 
no late night rendezvous
plainly all-business, but magic, 
a charming, female financier

Bar mates with nostalgia
bid her farewell remembering
she was one glass of wine or maybe two

Transferring five hours north
ready for a change
Fraulein's boss wishes she would work
instead of drinking coffee in the cafés of Berlin.


written 20 Jan. 2016

Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2016

Details | Senryu |
Virginia is home 
I want to travel abroad, 
to see nice places

Copyright © Jaquay Atkins | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
___ Manual Typewriter At Work___

The keys clack aloud
As they strike the paper
The carriage lifts up
When the shift key is alter
The ping of the bell warns the typist
That she is nearing the end 
Of the line and have to
Lift up her left hand
From the keyboard.
Swipe at the carriage returns lever.
Putting the carriage back to its normal position
Cause a 'Ziiip' noise scribe has to bear.

Olden days still not old
Computers come to being through it.
It is gold of many colors
That can best be traced by people of its age. 

Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |
She asked me to stay
but I had writing to do
now you’re reading it

Copyright © Chris Patton | Year Posted 2006

Details | I do not know? |
I am giving up
The stress is past the point of throwing up
Every day the same routine
The repetition has become obscene
My hands are blistered, sore and torn
While my face looks old a worn
If my nerves are bent any more
I will snap at the middle and break at the core
Just a little break
To relieve me from more than  can take
A rest for the weary is all I ask
A little relief from this stressful task

Copyright © Evan Zeitler | Year Posted 2010

Details | I do not know? |
Waiting at the railway
Waiting by the line
Waiting for the train
Coming down the line.

Wagons on the railway
Full of goods and coal,
Engine on the railway
Hear its iron wheels roll.

Woman by the railway
Basket on her head.
Traders on the railway
Selling loaves of bread.

Travellers by the railway
Sitting on a seat.
Dogs by the railway
Sleeping on the heat.

Beggars by the railway
Sitting on the ground.
Children by the railway
Dancing round and round.

Porter by the railway
Lifts a heavy load.
Lorry by the railway
Waiting on the road.

Waiting at the railway
Waiting by the line
Waiting for the train
Coming down the line.

Copyright © NWANDO OBIANYOR | Year Posted 2007

Details | Monorhyme |
Felling like I'm trapped in the corner Always looking over my shoulder There had to be an informer
There was no icebreaker Thanks to that skip tracer
The shadows are getting darker And the nights are getting longer A gorgeous reporter and her damn recorder Now I'm racing for the border in this horror
I have to sleep just pray I'm not a snorer Or I might not wake to see the undertaker Either way I will end up with my maker
A risk taker in GODS acre Staying clear of Hells half acre
All this cause they thought I was the money taker Now I'm the Quaker trapped in the corner
3/20/2017

Copyright © Jeremy Smith | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ballad |
We would like to welcome you
Please come in and sit down
We’re so happy to offer you
A seat (down on the ground)
We think your work is special
And for a tiny price
We would like to show the world
Your work, won’t that be nice?
See your name (for a tiny fee)
In the books we’ll sell at…cough
But we’re offering you this special price
Of fifty percent off!
What page you ask? Well let me see
Hand me that magnify glass?
Yes here you are, next to two great works
“Belly Lint” and “Gas”
Every poem another dream
(And another wad of bills.)
Those who hope to share their work,
Pride, our easiest thrill.
We don’t mean to trick you
That’s a bonus in the deal.
See where you signed?
Well legally, you paid, we didn’t steal.
The books they maybe shabby
The CD poor quality
We don’t cater to poets friend
We slurp from vanity.
You didn’t get MY money
But not all see that it’s a sham
I searched for a beginners’ friend
I found another legal scam.

Copyright © A. Sanders | Year Posted 2007

Details | Light Poetry |
stop press


no less

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
In the corner of his studio,
three stories high above the street,
a view of the city
where sun rises on undying population.
Regulars amidst daily routine
mixed in with unfamiliar faces.
Tens of thousands of tales untold,
several hundred added daily.
In verses their lives are painted,
his only canvas being a notebook.
Expressions never fail him
as long as he lives on
a writer's block.

Copyright © Anonymous Poet | Year Posted 2017

Details | Couplet |
Excitement is running through my mind at this point,
It is hard to control so much 

When something so honorable,
Happens to come across

For me personally,
It was the proposition

From a contest by,
World Poetry Movement

In which I entered in,
And received a letter back

Stating that my poem,
Had made it to the next level

But that is not all,
Oh no

What's more is that they informed me,
That they were publishing that very poem

In a book titled "Stars In Our Hearts"
Which is to be published in August this year

I hope each and every one who happens to read this,
May read my poem "The Beat of the Heart"

In the book.
Thank You.

Copyright © Alex McKenna | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
Yellow is air, but not with flowers, 
Particles in wind, but not dandelions, 
The nature is taking over this place I live, 
But not in the manner I want it to take, 
The air is adorned with Particles of dust, 
Filling up my hair like my head has got rust, 
It's kind of true if we see what nature is trying to tell, 
I've not been able to use my brain too well, 
Every time I go out, eyes are red and closing, 
Some are due to sorrows, some lack of sleep, dozing, 
Every person seems to be a machine in itself, 
Who is using everything to survive without a help, 
Dont know people are extracting their energies where from, 
That they function smoothly in a swift sandstorm, 
Each has a motive, everyone has destination, 
Reaching at that point, they have a next new station, 
There is no stopping, no time to wander at all, 
No time to ask questions, no guts to ponder at all, 
Every person seems so lone, even when with people some, 
Every one has got a fight, with a companion in that none, 
Fake smiles, fake people, fake motives, fake preachers, 
Falling people daily in the traps that are invisible, 
This might be the world that is, this might be the world you see, for now I'll say world is exactly how a person decides to see

Copyright © Sagar Chaturvedi | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose |
She left her favorite moment to explain herself. To those poor souls who would listen. See; her pants were set on fire. By a poet she met online. And his intensity of explaining the phemonon of twin souls scared her. Into the next century. It sparked a rage inside, Along with  a sexuality beyond human comprehention. So she slipped back inside her artistic mind. Then she got an idea. To bring out her oil crayons. A medium she never worked with before. And with frenzied intensity. She scribbled all over his face for 30 minutes. Using the intensity of color at her disposal. She created her masterpiece. And in the process of schizoid flow there were faces hidden beneath her raging.  So she titled the piece: IM GOING TO DRAW ALL OVER YOUR FACE UNTIL YOU BELIEVE THE SCHIZIOD IN MY CRAYONS. Beneath the abstractedess of her vivid colors. She took a picture and took notice. That this poets energy,  however negative, sparked another fire inside her. One of abstract art to express the deep meaning in relationships. Her undoing. 
Then she thought to herself. There's a gifted manager where she works who always talks about his vision for the future. And how she loves to pay attention to others visions of the future. And it's intrinsic in her being to want to help in making others visions become a reality. Then she had an aha moment. And thought to herself. That's why I appreciate this manager so much. He's an artist just like myself.  What a time I'm having in my life she felt in her being. Creating visual art, writing. and participating in other artists visions. Her life right now is almost complete.

Dedicated to And a Big
Thank You to Store Scott. An Artistic Soul Much Appreciated.

Queensryche. Silent Lucidity. Is always my song about you...

Copyright © Holly Bohto | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |
       Ahmadinezhad And the Price Of Gas -
          (His Name Pron - Ah - mad - in - eh - zhad)
The politics of Promise you unfold
as we approach election twenty-twelve,
and you can bet there's not a promise told
the President to be won't have to shelve!

Their only problem's just to sway us all
and gather votes that count election day
they all can see the writing on the wall
but no one reads the writing anyway!

Could 40 thieves of Persia sway the vote
if someone plays their cards exactly right?
Ahmadinezhad might be someone to note
as we get closer to election night!

Before election day will ever pass
get set to pay a whole lot more for gas.

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
Sixty-three divided by seven
Four squared plus two and minus nine
Square root of sixteen plus five
Square root of eighty-one
Three squared plus zero 
Ten minus one
Six plus three 
Three threes
Nine!



Comments:  dedicated to the mathematical wizards who would like to write a 
nonet poem, this is your chance.   This is a very understandable way to write a 
nonet. A nonet poem has nine lines, with the first line containing nine syllables, 
the second line eight, the third seven, then six, next five, then four and so until the 
last and ninth line has one syllable. The nonet poem may be written about any 
subject, and rhyming is optional. Start with a topic sentence and work it down live 
a funnel. It should be deductive and inductive.

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2006

Details | Light Poetry |
Useless

I guess

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009

Details | Epigram |
What chorus do bankers use
when paper profits they prepare ?
                                             BONUS !
What word would a poet choose
of his peers,plaudits  declare ?
                                            BONUS !

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
Minutes turn to hours,
as the clock ticks onwards;
still the paper before me
remains crisp, white – untouched.

My right hand is now cramped,
from it’s gripping my pen
and the notation on my pad,
slowly bringing alive my thoughts.

Every scribe I write becomes structured,
I stop to think before every word;
look back over what I have written,
disjointed, yet I know it all.

A play on my script,
tweaking here and there.
Informing every thought I record,
bringing brilliance for my virgin page.

Words form sentences,
pictures are painted; a masterpiece of art,
breathing life to my work,
to be realized by many.

I transfer my scribe,
to my neat sheet waiting.
Ink flows smoothly, a pleasure to see.
Release washes relief over my tense form.

Midnight strikes, not long left now,
before I can lay my pen to rest
and bid ‘Goodnight’,
to another fulfilled and worthy day.

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
          Talk to me, Don't you know your my everything. 
 
          I spend every waking moment with 
          you next to me. 

          I feel you and I heal with you, your what I do when I can't sleep at night.

          If there weren't room for you then I wouldn't know what to do your just apart   
          of me and sometimes when I feel weak I call on you. 

          I remember your words of wisdom and use them on paper to express how I
          feel. 

          It's real, it's right the way that it flows I need that feeling every night.

          Hold on tight for another wild crazy ride. 

          I'm good at doing you, your good at not controlling me. 

          Helping me to flow free in an unexpected way.

          You know all of my secrets before  I even know them.
 
          Sometimes you say dumb things and force me to erase you but when I really need
          you your always there for me.

          That's why when I finish a sentence it's perfect because you listen
          without judging me.
 
          All and all I want to be with you forever... your my passion and my love and if 
          I fell I know you would rescue me.

Copyright © Shahana Jackson | Year Posted 2005