Short Brokers Poems
Short Brokers Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Brokers by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Brokers by length and keyword.
Sun breaks ridge like bell
Squirrels scurry like stock brokers
Leaves like orders fall
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
How the heck can we trust these jokers.
When given our fortunes they poke us,
with the promise to invest,
and return high interest.
So why are investors called brokers?
Sweet song of humanity, play on
apparently, we still ain't gone
global catastrophe seems eminent
yet bars and parties are still prominent
a question of when, not if
that's what the epidemiologist insists
the bees have died
the brokers cried
but we play on
orange man sends nasty tweets
lacking sentences complete
tiny hands do felines greet
old man likes to sniff the hair
says, “c’mon, man!”, not all there
brokers art deals for an heir
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*Elglyn Equal Opportunity Criticism so everyone can dislike my views
A line like serpent coiled round the saltpeter cart
Hoping to purchase health and healing, or
Gunfire spark
The merchant—a vendor of virtue, or vice
His ware—white wonder of alchemical craft
A dance of light and dark
He brokers that which bridges life and death
The sales of arms then sent for alms
Betwixt his quiet, a question mark
Been to the London Stock Exchange
opened in 1571 by Elizabeth the Queen
and what's more saw the New York Big Board
the world's largest stock market ever seen
but when I took a trip to Paris
had no clue as to what to do
altho' I was educated in French
(parlez-vous?)
I believe brokers did so to discommode
as when yelling buying or selling
they communicated in Bourse code
It flickers into the deepest of our sub-conscience,
making us do things we wouldn't have dreamed before.
We do all we can, to stop uncertainty from throwing
a surprise right on our faces.
Insurance brokers, herbalists and fortune tellers know this very well;
they know we feel fragile on the palms of time -
they know we love our bodies, freedom and protection,
and we'll give out our last dime to keep them for ourselves.....
Diplomacy of inconstancy
unmeets the urgency. Aura
of brilliance was falling in your feet.
After the death, it was not a name,
only a frozen body.We moved backward
swiftly, to find out the footprints in dark.
Winter was becoming harsh and
less meaningful. A weak muscle brokers
a peace for dewdrops on rose petals.
I become an earlier story, failed.
Pick up the moon rocks
and start throwing them at sun.
Satish Verma
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