Mouthwatering scents rise from the oven's heat.
Each bite brings comfort, satisfying and complete.
All the herbs and breadcrumbs combined in a savory blend.
Tangy glaze caramelized is such a sweet dividend.
Leftovers are sealed in Tupperware tight.
Oma’s gift reheated on a cold, wintry night.
Across the table awaits an untouched pie made of mincemeat.
Forgotten peas sulk, saddened with a feeling of defeat.
Tomorrow is the day – the day I dread.
The first of March. Declare the dividend.
I hate a scene but I, by nature’s quirk,
endure the drama, seated on the stage.
I never met a shareholder who said
‘I know you are the CEO. My friend,
we really do appreciate your work.’
Hostility is not so hard to gauge.
Today’s the day it all comes to a head.
A thousand profit-sniffers will attend.
Their eyes will flay me, glaring from the murk,
and though I do my damnedest to assuage
the fury, ‘carbon footprint’s tread’ –
it will not help me. Why do I pretend?
They want more money. Explanations irk.
Their unearned income is the war they wage.
Their eyes and exit signs pulsating red,
No Confidence the motion that they’ve penned,
malicious in the darkness where they lurk,
creators (or the symbols?) of our age.
Once there was a haughty queen
who decided to spend more time on
her own:
here, there, she flew everywhere
followed by a lovesick drone --
She said: "little man, you're not
in my plan...please find a poem
all your own!"
Himself, no good at gathering nectar...after
thought said, "The heck with her!"
Wasting no time, instead of wallowing
in self-pity, moved to the big city, wrote
a book on Hive Theory: how drones are
mere sex objects, sleepless, eyes bleary
With profits from his book, opened a bank
offering no penalty early liquidity -- finally, some
respect for drones, bee dandies feeling hopeless
and weary. Up till then having little other choice
but to serve the whims of Her majesty, often royally
finicky, they began investing their nest-eggs of sweets
for retirement in our protagonist's very successful,
totally liberating, high dividend paying -- novel
Savings And Drone.
The overcoming of obstacle
Is defining of who yourself are
It's a symbol of courage and firmness
This is the quotient of dividend and divisor
The product of multiplicant and multiplier
The sunny after the rain
The peace after the storm
The medal of valor after the war torn
The graduation of all the studies
The invention of miticuluos innovation
And the beacon of all hopes and aspirations.
Dying invested
dividend high
Selling tomorrow
presence to buy
Feelings compounding
destiny’s rate
One final moment
— blessed in His Grace
(1st Book Of Prayers: August, 2024)
The leaves
From the trees
They fell
It was that time of year
Nature looked unwell
The sun disappeared
And out came the rain
Happiness vacated
What’s left of the brain
Festive season
The only saving grace
To lengthen the holidays
There was a case
All the hedgehogs
Went into hibernation
And those from elsewhere
Filled up Heuston Station
Temperatures turning
Cold and breezy
For putting on a jacket
The rest was easy
Autumn to Winter
And early Spring too
Thanks to the conditions
There was not much to do
Colourful lights shone
From the shop fronts
Passers by with the flu
Spoke in coughs and grunts
Don’t forget those
Who were tight on cash
For them
This ‘festive season’
Was nothing of the sort
Instead, it plagued them like a rash
Shamed by the nouveau riche
Who spent money quite brash
The media claimed
We were on the mend
And could issue more social dividend
However, some of the shareholders
In this society
Could not live
Off acts of piety
Something must give
For those who are broke
Food on the table
And somewhere to live
Diamonds are a girl’s best friend
For a woman, just a dividend
We never know when life will end
And so each day we just pretend
That we have all the time to spend
On all that we envision.
The trips someone would recommend,
The get-togethers with a friend,
The shows and games we should attend -
We plan them with precision.
Yet circumstances often bend
And goals or travels we’d intend
To take, we somehow comprehend
Will bow to indecision.
Our years on earth, though, won’t extend.
There is no magic dividend
And, like this poem that I have penned,
There’ll be no great revision.
Don't waste your energy,
In trying to fit more hours in your day,
As no dividend will ever come from thinking the house will ever pay,
A dividend for those who use their energy in that way,
And you will be using up time that should be set aside for play.
Instead of using your daily quota of energy in that way,
Try planning your day,
To reduce the time of your office stay,
By working out what can be put off for another day,
Without hell to pay.
If you do as I say,
And don't waste your energy trying to put more hours in your day,
As even if you can never put extra hours in your day,
You can prolong your life by many a day,
Resulting in more hours to play,
From hours you could not fit in your day,
That you found by using your energy in a more productive way.
I have observed this under the shadow of the sun,
That the labour of mankind is futility.
It is in vain that you should wake up at dawn and labour till the day is done;
For things do not go swift for the righteous man,
And a house that is built by the righteous ends in vain.
But things go swiftly for the unjust,
And a tower that is constructed in corruption is quickly polished.
And success is for the ungodly,
And fortune is a dividend of those unfavorable to God.
Thus, also have I observed under the sun:
That things do not go as we have planned,
And victory befalleth not the positioned,
And wealth befalleth not the good hearted.
That, also is futility,
Vanity of vanities.
Return, to me before I find it missing
Return, expectation from passionate kissing
Return, anticipated from the I.R.S. government
Return, a dividend on your smart investment
Return, to sender; not at this address
Return, to the starting line…start over, yes
Return, second half of a round-trip
Return, profit you made on a good tip.
Return, flip to its original position
Return, frequent visiting is an imposition!
written March 12, 2022
"Years come and go so fast- from start to end
yet, each that passes- is a dividend."
_by Poet
Another year has quickly passed away;
from start to finish, most will so agree-
just in a blink, each twenty-four-hour day
dissolved within the fleeting twelve-month spree.
The seasons too, each year, by four divide-
and they in, months of three, present contrast;
Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter- so provide
those welcomed changes, making time fly fast.
And, so a year noway slows down to stall-
last January passed not long ago.
And here we are- December did enthrall
with Christmas- then, advanced the New Year flow.
That measurement of time- another year-
does come and go at will, we know it's true;
to start afresh- in twelve months, disappear.
Accept each new one as life's gift to you.
December 1, 2021
~1st Place~
Contest: "Y" Contest, New Poems
Sponsor: Constance La France
Judged: 12/03/2021
We supplicate her when we mourn
She is the rose and we the thorn
to those who sorrowfully grieve
alone, bewildered and forlorn
She offers sinners a reprieve
and comforts sad hearts that aggrieve
Lifts us up when we're feeling down
In her we must deeply believe
She can remove a worried frown
Rescue us when we start to drown
Grant us the courage to endure
A saving grace without a crown
Humbly, do we pray to ensure
our faith is virtuous and pure
This Christian virtue we should seek
For hope we pray. God, we adjure
He blesses the modest and meek
who are weary, fragile and weak
But with hope as a dividend
our lives will no longer look bleak
On our Lord's love we can depend
Hope He provides as a godsend
to ease fears and anxieties
God is our Father and our Friend
On a phone call with my brother,
With the river at my feet,
He was startled to hear birdsong,
City avians a’tweet.
And this morning, on a lamppost,
Sat a regal hawk, intent
On whatever he was thinking,
As some pigeons came and went.
Then this afternoon I spotted,
In a garden with my friend,
One red cardinal plus sparrows,
Nature’s urban dividend.
You may be surprised to hear it,
But the city’s habitat
Gives me lots to make me smile,
Long as I don’t see a rat.
My door will always be open to those who are in need
sharing the wealth of goods and time, I will concede,
but do not abuse my giving nature until I bleed,
or I will slam my door in the face of abusive greed.
I'll loan you that proverbial cup of sugar, my friend.
Ask nothing in return of you. I'll charge no dividend.
If it's a shoulder you need, then I will gladly spend
all afternoon with you, until you're on the mend.
I'll lend you my time, my shoulder, and my sympathy.
Return again tomorrow and we'll have a cup of tea.
But don't you take for granted, my offered hospitality
for if you do, you'll find my door locked...permanently.
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