Best Trader Poems
< once there was a man named trader Joe
could do nothing with hair so let grow
under big coonskin hat
fleas tick and his pet rat
mercantile's just say Oh Hell No
once there was saloon name lucky spur
where traders brought in their hunted furs
in walks old trader Joe
miss Molly said let's go
now both itch scratch from leftover burrs
The pounding reins
Of yesterday’s tears
Lead me down
The dreary road of today
The joy I once found
Gazing into your eyes
Is hobbled by distance
And my faltering gait
Unbridled rides at dawn
A beautiful, insipid memory
Breakneck sprints in the dark
An aching need in the final stretch
The rhythmic rhyme
Of our ride in time
We won the race
But lost our place
Your crop too willing
My flanks too tender
Your mount is running,
Full out, yet you ask for more
(unfinished)
rlm '11
Pantoum about Ernie Petersen,
Trader At Rose Prairie
Fur Trader
The buyer and trapper jawed trade
“What’s fur fetching at the Winnipeg auction?”
At Rose Prairie the deals was made
At the wood burning stove with caution
“What’s fur fetching at the Winnipeg auction?”
Cold winter makes pelt with heft.
The buyer fingers a beaver with caution.
“You’ve got four winters of debts still left.”
Cold winter makes pelt with heft
He checks account ledgers for bills overdo.
At jawing for credit the trapper was deft
“I needs credit for more than just stew.”
The buyer checks account ledgers for bills overdo.
The trapper needs wire, bullets, sugar, sour dough.
Doesn’t think of account ledgers or bills overdo
For a night with Maxime he’s in need of some dough.
The trapper needs wire, bullets, sugar, sour dough.
The buyer pours the brewed coffee and stokes the wood stove.
Says synthetic fur drove the auction real low.
Celebrities protested before the fur market dove.
He pours the brewed coffee and stokes the wood stove.
They chat about beaver, lynx and grey fox.
He tops up the mugs from the whisky alcove.
Talks of kids, dogs, and women and child lost to pox.
They chat about beaver, lynx and grey fox.
They share season from cabins, and tales of trap line.
They share bannock and bacon and butter from box
Of seasons they talk when barter was fine.
They share season from cabins and tales of trap line.
The buyer gives trapper snuff dark and sweet
Closes the deal with a ball of tough twine.
Then he sharpens a knife to serve some moose meet.
The buyer and trapper jawed trade.
Why must that jagged line dictate your mood,
demanding you be left in solitude.
The glow illuminates more than you know,
a face disfigured by the constant woe.
A fortune to be had if patience ruled,
for over-eager men are always fooled.
As weather would shift daily with the breeze,
each year goes by unchangingly with ease.
Likewise does this business give and take,
those cents on which we daily concentrate.
But if that pointer would be kept at bay,
and lust reigned in to wait just one more day,
a greater happiness would soon replace,
the shadow of frustration on your face.
I had a dream once, every move was cloud nine
My soul was bright, everything was just right
My sins were carried in the sky with a rocket full of saints.
My eyes were wide, narrowed by the life I spare.
My universe was a spare tyre.
It’s funny how one languid can change the script.
Already, crafted scripted script ready to be supervised and revised.
You find your speech gets dizzy, hazel eyes get slow and sloppy.
It’s easy to find refuge in frizzy
Future is a lazy Hazy tunnel, Puzzled with mazes.
Debris in every corner, it’s a hazard.
What’s crazy is a realization that it rotates.
Sometimes it’s rocking the Daisies
Everything is colorful, no midst in the distance
It’s Disney in the midst of poverty
Conquering like Brusly
Praises, like the first one direction tour.
Phases, like one man band left to tell
It could be lonely if you a person of phrases
Pipeline dream set us up to fail.
It could be another tail,
That will eventually take us to jail.
You’ve got mail, good news
You’ve made the bail.
Sleeping beauty will wake up with no trail
Because future will leave no thrill.
The quick thumps made
me realize he is breaking
down, little by
little –
As opposed to those
footsteps of his bolding
audience – on a
rattan chair.
He must have thought
of fortune as plenty as Dinorado* .
However, he is a Chinese;
he had no ornate of
cats, of Buddha, of dragons
– he is allergic to them.
But he is a Chinese;
and Chinese believe in
luck, charms, and
curses.
*Dinorado is a rice variety.
Ca. 2007
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The radiant shine leaves your aurora
dimming ever so quickly,
as in northern regions you are—borealis
falling into the southernmost Sahara
negative gradients descend—australis
The gloss of moral sanction
The glitter of a social butterfly
The prism of a love sonnet
I thought it would never end
False is an outward appearance
Black smoke puffed
charcoal ashes
spread amongst the masses
Snuffed are the soft eider white reminiscence
Left are the burnt embers of memory
Janus face so striking
truant tradeoffs at any cost
totality misleading,
yet, narcissism becomes you
A most plebeian diagnosis
Self-absorbed egotist
with delusions
of grandeur
You’ll popularize
popularity
while it condemns you,
A cowardice,
believing
YOU were a soldier
Yet you hid when all battled for you
a fair weathered friend is no
friend at all
You’ve painted a Renoir of you
an illusion, it's a Goya—El Greco!
A bruting intimacy restrained
a duality in an Art Deco
mask off, mask on
Disguise!
Hide what’s just another espy
I was wrong about you...
Words spread eloquently
A perennial drone others reality
If cruelty, are your real realms
Then I am just another casualty
Taken in by your devilish charms
when Moon and Sun collide
allied with the charred stars
A false hope maker
dream taker,
heartbreaker,
faker
Fare thee well...
You’re of them
No one special after all
a let down
draining
I want no
part of you
TRADER OF MYSELF.
Selling wrestle my pains,
Never an alternative to any
Sister know as saint.
All I work is in vain.
Trading has reframed my name,
Reshaped my ways.
Only shame replicates this game.
Have ran races, walked through
Many lanes,
Searching to sweat for weight
On my plates.
That’s how I made this place.
Wonder what would befall my
Faith.
Am aware this not save.
I pray, I pray my Creator
Would intervene.
Am ready to walkout of this
Gate.
This would make my case
Never remain the same.
HABIB AKEWUSOLA.
The Honeybees all gather...
Without an estimate--or chart--
And peruse the garden gracefully,
And give the rose its start.
And exchanging their sweet nectar--
As a rare commodity--
Trade stocks of yellow orchards--
Absent any trading fee!
A video was on the news
In front of Trader Joe’s
Where anti-maskers want to shop
And this is how it goes:
The manager and other staff
Stay calm but do not budge,
Repeating that for all beliefs
They aren’t there to judge.
However, as a private store
They get to make the rules
With wearing masks required,
Which each anti- ridicules.
The store is well within its rights
But still the group won’t leave,
Convinced the law is on their side;
The truth they can’t perceive.
At Trader Joe’s, employees
Have been noted for displays
Of friendliness and patience;
Someone give these guys a raise!
I'm American and I'm civilized!
-Really?
I'm European and I'm civilized!
-Really?
I'm Oceanian and I'm civilized!
-Really?
I'm African and I'm civilized!
-Really?
I'm Asian and I'm civilized!
-Really?
I'm Antarctican and I'm civilized!
-Really?
I'm only civilized and I'm white!
-Really?
I'm only civilized cause I'm from oppressed black!
-Really?
I'm Hindu and I'm civilized!
I'm Buddhist and I'm civilized!
I'm a Jew and I'm civilized!
I'm Christian and I'm civilized!
I'm Muslim and I'm civilized!
I'm Sikh and I'm civilized!
I'm Jain and I'm civilized!
-Really?
-Really?
-Really?
One drop of blood is laughing behind my (venomous) teeth!
I'm civilized! And I only stand on (lame) peaceful feet!
And I greet you all to learn from my civilized myth!
I'm civilized!
I'm civilized!
I'm civilized!
-Really!
Oh! all you're funny trader
crawling as hidden viper!
©Mahtab Bangalee, Chattogram
July 12, 2018
171 E Swedesford Rd,
Unexpected positive experience
with regular totally tubular
gnarly patron first name Maureen
hmm... if only this burbling blurb
blog could somehow
be communicated - pro bono, cuz green
legal tender (mine) scarce -
anyway earlier
today December sixteenth
two thousand and nineteen
ah, my dog how serendipitously
I did germanely, modestly,
quintessentially shepherd convenient
rhyme with reason (hubble spontaneity)
three, five, eight, plus
this line thirteen...
(you get the idea, si?)
with eyes shut tight e'en
absentmindedly maneuvering "fake"
steering wheel, while zee queen
(think four foot eleven
spouse wearing spongebob
pajama pants) profusely thanked
police seeing eye dog approaching
and barking unforeseen
drove sitting on his haunches
on driver seat cop cruiser
smack dab nabbit
on our figurative docked toured tail
emulating crash test dummy
nearly didst almost careen
into our two thousand
and nine Hyundai Sonata
gave spouse faux paw high five
while flock of seagulls,
eagles, black crows...,
attired with red and green
holiday outfits suddenly appeared clean
(white hove out blizzard)
out of thin air nearly collided
with our self driving
automobile I amazingly
gratefully dodged tween
twenty plus miles north east
back to Schwenksville,
Pennsylvania, where this mean,
(once lean twice shy)
poetry (aye sup prose) writing machine,
now exuberant poet hoping
to garner (no bull lariat) keen
punny hush meant toward anybody
including trumpeting mujahedeen
hoot aches objection, which
courtesy self typing keyboard really
cool and groovy power
(smart thinkpad) reads my mind
pressing corresponding key visible
on Lenovo external large screen.
Stumble you get in treading the path of life
Or you may get your steps upon dirt
And inside develop a spot, a dot,
A scratch even a crack
To remove them you may try
Collins, wheels, Nirma or acids
But they will not get out
In this case I may help you
I am a trader
I sell broom of forgiveness
Buy to use it and see how they are gone with a swipe.
And it rains everyday since I arrived
Stockport Rain
in the soak of leaves
and in the breeze
in the grasses and reeds
and spilling city light
Where you live
mending to be free
You Live life Like a horse trader
Wont someone listen
I need someone to talk to
and no one will spare me the time
I am seeing your silences in your retrisence
And it rains every day since I arrived