On Wall Street,
all is stocks, fakes, power point...
nobody shares.
nor exchanges friendship...
Categories:
stocks, allusion, appreciation, humorous,
Form: Light Verse
I bought myself, some gifts today
drove home, but threw them way
No big surprise, I’m losing the will
offloading things, brings me thrills
Again desperate, must order more
getting funny looks, in the gun store
Bite Size Poem no.8 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
19/06/2021
Categories:
stocks, allegory, anxiety, mental illness,
Form: Rhyme
Why don't poets write poems about stocks?
Well, they're unromantic for sure, like the innards of clocks
Ofttimes stock prices rise or fall on the strength of company reports
Which most poets can't make hide or hair of, be they long or they short
Then all those myriad ratios investors are so good at flaunting
Price to Sale, Dividend Yield, Price Earnings, they all seem so daunting
And when they published that book, "Stocks for Dummies"
Literati like you and me felt really, really crummy
So, to sum up the reasons why there are no poems on stocks
They're as aesthetically appealing as a high tech black box
Categories:
stocks, money, poems, poets,
Form: Light Verse
Ducked below the counter
retrieving cans of pop,
Sally hidden from our view;
the counter lined on top.
Seven rootbeer, thirteen cola
three in gingerale.
Some are red, some in blue,
some are green and pale.
Pressed together warm with gas
grouped in every label.
Sally careful not to drop
or bang to keep them stable.
A list of sodas penciled down
on just a scrap of paper
as Sally fills her wanted list
and adds them as they taper.
A stubby fridge for holding pop;
it's glass door sealed cool.
As Sally tugs to pull the handle;
and acts more like a mule.
On opening she sees their place
and soon begins to stock.
She fills each hole to face them up
and sorts them block by block.
The fridge is full; the job is done;
it's shut and sealed in peace.
And Sally steps behind the counter
to see her sales increase.
Categories:
stocks, care, devotion, work,
Form: Quatrain
Roll up, roll up,
Take your best shot
I'll chew up all your hatred,
Anger and scorn
Then spit them back in your face
Rain down your judgmental daggers
I'll catch them in my teeth
And plunge them in your back
Let he who is without sin
Cast the first rotten cabbage
Categories:
stocks, history, life, people
Form: Verse