Foreclosures Poems | Examples

Hands Destroying Fate

Living in the country
   I finally understand,
The frustration of the farmer
   and, the importance of our land.

With the senseless self destruction
   of the air, our seas and land,
We destroy the strong traditions
  passed down through father's hand.

And, traditions build foundations
   that foreclosures strip away,
Polluting with our progress
   more land with each new day.

Combining self destruction
  with the banker's auctioneer,
We sacrafice the future
  for the children we hold dear.

If we'd let the past be guidance
   maybe then we'd understand,
And, learn from our forefathers
   respect for life and land.

Written by,
Sheri Lynne Evans
October 11, 2008

There It Goes

There it goes
 sliding down the throws
 of market drop
just when you thought you were on top.

Look at it plunge
 sinking everyone's 401s
and to think the government
 once wanted to invest 
 in Wall Street's continual mess.

No worries
 relax don't hurry
 all those CEOs and financial gurus
hid their payouts, not in euros.

Millionaires and billionaires
 have neither worry nor cares
with loads of currency to spare
 and you in your beleaguered funds
 fall low and lower expunged.

It's okay, we've seen it all before
 foreclosures, bankruptcies for the poor
 there always tents and boxes for the homeless core
what's a few unnoticed more
 the rich can easily close their doors.

Requiem For a Compulsive Gambler

It seems you could never stay out of a casino.
As soon as you got paid, that is where you would go.
Your life became dependent on the roll of the dice.
Each crap table visited was as cold as ice.
Your financial ability was shrouded with doubt.
The money evaporated with each seven out.

With meeting your obligations, you didn't give a damn.
You got yourself in quite a financial jam.
Bill collections, repossessions, and foreclosures clouded your life.
Gambling was cutting you up like a knife.
Each day was an experience with monetary strife.
Those episodes are what decent people dread.
You must not be feeling pain now that you're dead.

All you have left are unpaid debts and liabilities.
I am forced to scatter you cremated ashes to the breeze.

Poems That Make No Sense 2

POEMS THAT MAKE NO SENSE—2

their flesh bears no scars
only coldness forgotten
and bizarre
never pealing layers
of bleeding hearts
no strings attached
just beings from 
odd spaceplaces
dead and dying to
be done with it
all in all their souls
are very still like
blotting paper
absorbing the pink
and blue emotions
of litmus reviews..

Blank…

landscapes on which to
pursue frightening
 invasive
disclosures
thin lines of 
multiple
foreclosures
mirrors unsheet
forgotten relics 
of exposure
in shattered
gutted 
shutters
 

© Kim van Breda—8 October 2o15

Messed Up World

The world we live in is no joke.
 Everything we have is going up in smoke.

 The world's money is tight,
 foreclosures have no end in sight.

 Bankers gotta make deals
 Car makers can't grip their wheels.

 The world is at war and still there's no cure
 for cancer that knocks on our door.

 Our world is in trouble ,we need help on the double.
 If we don't stop now and throw in the towel,

 It isn't a joke
 that we'll end up in smoke.

Just Breathing

When life takes hold of you no mercy given  
        Foreclosures popular , the new age to walk ..driven
        When your nerves are shattered 
        The home you live in seems scattered 

           Just breathe ~

       children don't understand why you can't give money on the daily 
       life feels cold and The bills are unbearable to open it seems
       When there is not enough food in the pantry for all
       you feel you are losing as you begin to fall , loose sight of dreams 

            Just breathe ~

     All these things are a test , every breath that counts.
     It's the faith,  and will to live , as anxiety mounts
     In your darkest hour just call on his power  
     with the help of God above , you will surmount.
        
           just breathe ~ just keep breathing

      "  Just another day in paradise Contest "

Days and Nights

Time passes slowly as I wander the streets

Gas and food prices soaring high  
Cars towed into the middle of the night 
Foreclosures stealing neighborhoods ,
 Soup kitchens provide free food
Jobs are scarce,  illegal immigrants are not 
 Overcrowded tenement buildings with attitude
Drug lords , gangs and pimps, decaying city ruins
Gun shots heard everywhere, bodies litter the streets at high noon
Nature pounding on the doors of civilization
The line between man and beast grows thinner 
 Storms rage thru the night ,  the end in sight 

Time passes slowly as I wander the streets

Poor Rich Man

Disheveled and homeless, laying on the street,
They walk on past, stepping over his feet.
Noses in the air, disgust cloud their senses,
Looking at the homeless like public offenses.
Not knowing that he once before had it all
But it was so long ago, he struggles to recall.
He lost his six figure job and all of his money.
He didn’t invest so he feels like a dummy.
Met with foreclosures and many repossessions,
He hit the bottle and fell into depression.
Poverty sadly doesn’t have a face.
Any one of you could be in his place.

Brooks Calling

Transcend
Feel the wind
Soak up foreclosures inspirations
Never come to a stand still
Words with a true meeting place 
Bringing into play actions trace
Occasions 
First Middle and last  in phase
Dress up 
Dress down
Dress not at all 
Lounge and bask 
Sunshine's rays 
Full mask
Water falls pressure
Blast

The New Economy After the Elections

They travel
Distances
To work at the new factory
At the mall
To sell
To persuade
To show 
To ring up sales
To stock shelves
And keep merchandise neat and attractive.

Customers 
Look
Touch
Examine
Feel and perhaps
Buy.

Standing on their feet 
Workers wonder
How does an 
An $8.00 an hour job
Minus benefits
Zero coverage
Negative career
Compute
In their lives?

Their parents had jobs
Some for thirty years 
In a real workplace
Free from outsourcing
Goods made in China
High unemployment
And foreclosures. 

The store mannequin tells workers to break it up
Back to their counters
To do what they’re being paid for
But there is much more beneath the surface of his words
A threat 
Real or imagined
The workers listen
Because there is nowhere to go 
Nothing else to do.
In the new economy.

The young have energy
To organize
To demonstrate
To petition
For real change
Time is on their side
For a better tomorrow.

Forecast

It's dark, and gloomy, and gray
The pall of the world shed tears on the grass
The cloud is a curtain all day

Winter is coming, the foreclosures won't pass
I long to sweat again in May
Florida is more sand than clay.

Bail Out

WHY DID THE GOVERNMENT ELECT TO BAIL OUT THE CORPORATIONS AND SEND 
ABSOLUTELY NO AIDE TO HELP OUT THE LITTLE MAN…??

WE NOW DO HAVE A NEW ADMINISTRATION ABOARD, WHICH IS ACTUALLY TRYING TO 
ISSUE US A NEW STIMULUS PLAN…

SO WITHIN THESE TROUBLING TIMES LETS ALL PRAY; THAT FOR THE SEAT OF THE 
PRESIDENCY THE RIGHT MAN RAN…?

WITH FORECLOSURES AND UNEMPLOYMENT AT AND ALL TIME HIGH; LET’S PRAY THAT 
PRESIDENT OBAMA CAN HELP US OUT OF THIS FINANCIAL JAM…! 



ALL THE SUFFERING WE FACE PRESENT US WITH PAIN, DEJECTION, AND SORROW

BUT JUST REMEMBER THAT THE CRISIS IS JUST A NUMBER’S GAME; SO THE LORD SHALL 
BLESS YOU ALL WITH A BETTER TOMORROW …!!

....The Scroll....

Turning the parchments pages

Of this tearstained scroll

Bombast tales, never, have I ever spoke

The writings of palladians life, unfolds

Beyond the reasons and beyond the rhymes

And beyond this once somnolent night

In front of the crowds, I have stood

Bowing toward these everbearing eversions

These sombered encores, for the disemboweled

Deafened ears and emptied eyes

The hues, of crimsons splashings

Gasping for breath, these souls of the plight

Blinding foreclosures, of what might have been

Sprinkled and shattered, shards of images

Dreams, that once were, now, splattered in red

Palladians parchment, of a ghost with no home

"Forever lost"....this light, this plight, this night

The night, of the living dead!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

......The Scroll.......

What Is Obvious To the Eye

You’re one of them people that think they’re real cool
But man, I have seen a lot of fools just like you

I’ve seen people get killed for nothing in this town
And people die without ever having lived

Every time I look into your pretty lying face
Your eyes hit me like a twenty pound hammer

I’ve got red socks and sharp suspenders 
A motorcycle and a couple of shotguns for fun 

Let’s take a dance baby on your heated seat
We’ll wear Santa caps and sip cold vodka water

We both know that Mickey Mouse’s hands tell lies
Let's play with our eight grade pickled frog brains

Let the police dogs sniff for explosives
While we drink coffee and eat chocolate cheesecake

Let us genuflect before baked ham and bloodshot eyes
Let the mortgage rates drop and the foreclosures climb

Come on baby, straddle my motorcycle seat
Let’s blow this place, while the reporters print
What is obvious to the eye

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