Long Dollar Poems
Long Dollar Poems. Below are the most popular long Dollar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dollar poems by poem length and keyword.
Sensational Olivia bought an old violin
with the money, she collected in bustling Berlin;
ooh, do-re-mi-fa! Ooh, so-la-ti-do!
Olivia has an amazing talent,
she dances in perfect circles in the crowded square;
boys wink at her with intent
while she plays the violin with artistry,
fineness, elegance, and beauty so rare;
do her songs lack harmony?
Ooh, do-re-mi-fa!! Ooh, so-la-ti-do!
Sensational Olivia let me hear another song
on this cloudy and chilly day,
take me to a sunny shore...
where the breeze is gentle, never strong!
Ooh, do-re-mi-fa! Ooh, so-la-ti-do!!
There I would dream alone...
watch lovers kiss and hideaway!
Ooh, do-re-mi-fa!! Ooh, so-la-ti-do!!
Sensational Olivia bought an old violin
with the money she collected in bustling Berlin;
ooh, do-re-mi-fa!! Ooh, so-la-ti-do!
She doesn't seek international fame, only recognition:
the excited crowd applauds her unexpected improvisation!
Ooh, do-re-mi-fa! Ooh, so-la-ti-do!
Sensational Olivia performs for a living,
a quarter, a dollar makes her smile;
ooh, do-re-mi-fa! Ooh, so-la-ti-do!!
She's very young and so pretty...
besides being smart and silly;
people gather and listen while smiling!
Sensational Olivia should play in a symphony,
I'll be sitting there listening to her rhapsody!
Ooh, do-re-mi-fa! Ooh, so-la-ti-do!
I was just sitting there writing when I saw her stroll in,
I wasn’t alone, all eyes followed those curves sashaying
as if she owned the place and maybe she did. . .
if a heart can skip a beat, mine did a somersault.
Obviously cut from a finer cloth
than these eight dollar trousers ever found in their pockets,
the fit much better too, a warm hug on a cold December day
lingering in the moment
She sat down at the crescent shaped bar,
ordered a martini, neat, pulled a crisp twenty from her clutch
and brushed a few stray brunette hairs from her face,
the mirror behind the bar happily reflecting her beauty
Raising the drink to her ruby red lips
I found myself wishing I were that glass,
smeared in her favorite shade, kissed by a sighing sip,
caressed by porcelain fingers wiping sweat from a glistening neck
A jewel in this dingy joint, shimmering in the dusty haze,
breathing some class into this oblong shadow
that had seen better days, but none like this, like her.
She was out of place like fine wine in a shot glass . . . but didn’t seem to care
She lifted a cigarette to her mouth, I was quick with a match,
watching as tobacco embers flared and smoke rose upward, swirling about freeform.
Putting her lips together she blew out the flame
with a whisper of breath that made me weak in the knees, “Thank you.”
I stared, forgetting the spent match I held between my fingers,
tongue tied or mesmerized, take your pick, both answers are correct.
“You’re welcome”, I stuttered like a school boy in braces, “new around here?”
“Kind of”, her voice as chiffon is soft, “I heard I might find a poet here . . . ”
To be continued . . .
Please check out parts 2 and 3 if you get a chance.
7/12/17
For myself and other's sake
Working toward something great
Often I've been a dollar short and day too late
Go ahead and exaggerate
This you just can't duplicate
Did woman and man originate
From apes?
All across land and lakes
There to earn and take
Money to make
And put in a safe
Still on the chase
Picking up the the pace
As I accelerate
Barely touching the brakes
Pushing for first place
In any race
Can't let it all go to waste
From here to space
No time for fakes
And snakes
Get out of my face
You're B.S. I will not tolerate
Got to avoid leaving a trace
And catching a case
Sometimes I was filled with hate
It happened to dissipate
Or continued to accumulate
Made my own fair share of mistakes
With our without a rise in the stakes
I got many bruises and scrapes
Above, below and on either side of the gate
People talk seriously about money
Some people gamble money
Some people collect money
From all over the world easy
Russia, China something like
19 countries are making money
Out of a "Brics" of good gold things
They trade money more valuable
An independence out of fiat money
Isolating the US Dollar currency
Out in the picture, no more scene
The world is no more Unipolar but Bipolar
Many promising nation are emerging
Into the open, ready to be discovered
Has guts, ready to mingle and wise peers
New power is blossoming and wise friendly
Exploitation is transient and understandable
Cooperation is a must and balance business
Money is by petrol, gold or services
Exchange rate is amicable settlement
Not by who is more powerful but by respect
Respect of whose beneficial is to both parties
This is what good negotiation is attainable
This is what good consensus has to do with peace
This is all about what good is for each country
Money is good when it is done with good intentions.
Who Even Told Her That
We have our priorities. Our lunches. At prissy linen-covered tables.
With the best silverware, and steaks cooked exactly right.
So do not let that woman in. Tell her I am gone on sabbatical.
It is too bad about her child and cancer is awful, but I am busy.
And that steak is waiting with warm hot rolls, and real butter.
We have our preferences. Guns, ammo, and war machines
Bringing in lots of money for constituents who have paid me well.
I cannot wave at them at lunch if I filter their profits into something
As unpopular with them as cancer research.
Maybe we could give a dollar
Or two, but who cares that it is the number one killer of children?
My children are safe. My grandchildren do not have it.
I have lunch
Ready, at a table, ready to be served to my waiting belly.
Tell that woman to go away.
Bringing her child with her is a media trick.
I am not caving on this.
Seven hundred and ten billion to my fat cats,
Zip to cancer research.
Why does she even KNOW that none of the
Pittance we give is going to find out why
cancer is the number one killer of children?
Who told her that?
You bleeding-heart secretaries ought to keep your mouths shut.
My lunch is waiting dhramm it!
do you think it’s funny
hilarious, haha, a joke
how a billionaire’s money
is enough to make him an expert
on how to put his hands
around your throat
until you choke
how your taxes should be spent
and who should be sent away
to another place
to disappear without a trace
sold into slavery
or worse
to another time
when people were schooled
that rich white men ruled and
everyone else was
easily fooled
where women stayed
in the kitchen all day
preferably naked
and always ready to play
nobody was welcome
unless they could pay
their five million dollar
fee to stay
does it make you giggle
when our president
rants and raves
stomps his feet
and holds his breath
until his face
turns orange
says that only he
knows what’s best
for the billionaires
because quite frankly
no one cares about
all the rest
everyone must bow down
lay down
stay down
or get put down
orange marmalade
like fentanyl laced Gatorade
breaks the spirit
numbs the mind
until you find
you’re on the floor
too weak to
care anymore
Success has 3 (three)dollar signs
Like this: $ucce$$. One at the beginning
One in the middle and at the ending
The last "s" for special designs.
$ucce$$ is not solely about money
Success should be about sharing and helping
The community and its surrounding.
Success should NOT be about being greedy
Or about being number one
Because you won't be able to stash the billion
At your feet, inside the coffin.
Leave a legacy of helping the poor
And live a good and honest life, so the door
Of Heaven will, one day, remain ajar.
Copyright © December 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
The Simple Days
We grew up in another age
Honesty and hard work was the gauge
All we earned was a meager wage
Back in the simple days
Often we would arise at four
Thanking God as feet touched the floor
Again, - we began our daily chores
Back in the simple days
There was no "hand-out", - no "give-away"
Most earned a living from the clay
For better times, we would pray
Back in the simple days
Rewards that came were well earned
Value of a dollar we soon learned
Integrity , - - was the main concern
Back in the simple days
From that dollar we would count the change
In the modern day, this might seem strange
Instead of buying new, - we would rearrange
Back in the simple days
A firm handshake sealed a deal
There was no need for a seal
This alone, made it real
Back in the simple days
As a youth I often felt resentment
Very few things gave contentment
Many disappointing days were spent
Back in the simple days
But later I began to appreciate
Lessons learned, I could not duplicate
Not all of them, brought me fate
Back in the simple days
Today; much has gone "high-tech"
But I have learned to not neglect
The values I came to respect
Back in the simple days
Colan L Hiatt = 02-13-18
© All Rights Reserved
Nickels or pennies, dollars or pounds,
Feed those machines, can you hear your heart pound?
Spinning and winning drawing you in,
Feeding a frenzy before you begin.
One dollar here, a few hundred pounds
Soon you are dragged in, about to go down.
It’s an addiction feeding those sluts,
no use complaining or spilling your guts.
It's exhilarating hearing the sound, of yet one more silly bonus round.
Yet still, we sit on that comfy chair, often we utter an earnest silent prayer.
God does not listen to those wishing prayers for a game to land often and pay us again.
Spinning we do each and every day, no matter the promise
We can’t stay away.
The reels are illusions, to make us forget, it is our hard earned money we sit here and bet.
We are all losers, sitting on chairs, feeding a frenzy, a re-trigger to get
What is it really, why do we bet?
A bonus round comes, excited we sit, to collect a few pennies after hundreds were spent
Slots are ruthless a sure way to lose, some are addicted, to heroin and booze.
Off to the tables for a bit of fun, that is like holding a loaded gun,
Spin the roulette, and hope for your number,
See your bank balance soon go under.
Go to Black Jack think to count,
they are not stupid, they have covered the shoe,
No chance of winning whatever you do.
But it does not matter we say to ourselves… when in denial you cannot quit, you often hear people begging for a few quid.
I like to gamble, really I do, control is not easy when an addiction is true.
Do not let gambling take over your life, you may end up losing yourself and your wife.
It is not funny, nor is it unreal, that powerful addiction we have for the reel.
Some weekends I lose thousands a night, that does not scare me nor give me a fright. That is the addict's plight.
I’ve just moved
to the next screen
after another dollar
and I’m a hero
a man looks
over my shoulder
he slurs his speech
he falls down
the front steps
and takes a swing
at the person
who helps him
to the apartment
across the street
where he lives
for his convenience
after his fifth DUI
(he says he has
a house somewhere
and a mail order bride)
another gulps
a twenty-four ounce beer
and says the other
is as good as gold
when he isn’t drunk
and the bartender says
his tab pays the light bill
but sitting at the screen
I match
numbers and colors
in patterns
clear the screen
as if a world
collapses
making way
for another
and I can live
another life
if I chose
another game
I can be anything
and a lady hugs
another patron
and is gone
before he can
respond
while neon lights
tint a window
red and blue