People who have what they want are very fond of telling people who haven’t what they want that they really don’t want it,
And I wish I could afford to gather all such people into a gloomy castle on the Danube and hire half a dozen capable Draculas to haunt it.
I dont’ mind their having a lot of money, and I don’t care how they employ it,
But I do think that they damn well ought to admit they enjoy it.
But no, they insist on being stealthy
About the pleasures of being wealthy,
And the possession of a handsome annuity
Makes them think that to say how hard it is to make both ends meet is their bounden duity.
You cannot conceive of an occasion
Which will find them without some suitable evasion.
Yes indeed, with argumetsn they are very fecund;
Their first point is that money isn’t everything, and that they have no money anyhow is their second.
Some people’s money is merited,
And other people’s is inherited,
But wherever it comes from,
They talk about it as if it were something you got pink gums from.
Perhaps indeed the possession of wealth is constantly distressing,
But I should be quite willing to assume every curse of wealth if I could at the same time assume every blessing.
The only incurable troubles of the rich are the troubles that money can’t cure,
Which is a kind of trouble that is even more troublesome if you are poor.
Certainly there are lots of things in life that money won’t buy, but it’s very funny –
Have you ever tried to buy them without money?
The Soldier Fights Poem by katie
the soldier fights for the hippys rights to protest against that soldier
the soldier fights for the politions rights to send that soldier to war
the soldier fights for buisness mans rights to make money
the soldier fights for the policemans rights to arrest that soldier
the soldier fights for school kids right to know about past soldiers
the soldier fights to so that you may all sleep at night
the soldier fights for religion so that you may all belive what you wish
And yet the soldier fights on
the soldier fights for his flag, for his country, for his life
The Money Tree (Children) Poem by Cj Heck
I dreamed I grew a money tree
outside in my yard.
My job was to care for it
and I worked very hard.
I saw that it was watered.
It grew so straight and tall
and when the money ripened
I picked it in the fall.
The flowers were green dollar bills,
the seeds inside were coins,
and others grew and glittered
where all the branches joined.
On windy days I stood below
and held a great big bucket.
Other days I climbed right up
to find one ripe and pluck it.
People say that money
doesn’t really grow on trees.
I know. I only wish it did
just like in my dreams.
Money Poem by William Henry Davies
When I had money, money, O!
I knew no joy till I went poor;
For many a false man as a friend
Came knocking all day at my door.
Then felt I like a child that holds
A trumpet that he must not blow
Because a man is dead; I dared
Not speak to let this false world know.
Much have I thought of life, and seen
How poor men’s hearts are ever light;
And how their wives do hum like bees
About their work from morn till night.
So, when I hear these poor ones laugh,
And see the rich ones coldly frown—
Poor men, think I, need not go up
So much as rich men should come down.
When I had money, money, O!
My many friends proved all untrue;
But now I have no money, O!
My friends are real, though very few.
A Daughter Through The Eyes Of A Father Poem by Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson
(Dedicated to Bww and his 7 yr. Old daughter)
A daughter is beauty at its finest.
Heart of an angel, soul so pure, and sweet.
Daughters are one of God’s most precious gifts that he has bestowed upon the world.
Angels in Heaven do not compare to thine beauty, and grace my ever so beautiful, and lovely daughter.
Seeing you at birth brought more joy to me
than all the money in the world could ever do.
You are morning, bright, and shining,
you are noon, you reside at the highest point in my heart,
you are the dew kissed night.
You are my daughter, heart, and soul.
Epigram For Wall Street Poem by Edgar Allan Poe
I’ll tell you a plan for gaining wealth,
Better than banking, trade or leases —
Take a bank note and fold it up,
And then you will find your money in creases!
This wonderful plan, without danger or loss,
Keeps your cash in your hands, where nothing can trouble it;
And every time that you fold it across,
‘Tis as plain as the light of the day that you double it!
* What Is Life? * Poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
Aggress legitimately
I can hear screams from the back of the barns
“somebody help, someone help, call 911,
my daughter is bleeding”.
Yvonne,16, cuts her wrist as she figures,
that’s the only exit, to Hell
Her wild life has taken its toll
Her parents were too exhumed
with exuberant life
They can’t afford to be back dated
I was once walking on the road
leading to the Police precinct
when I saw a lady was robbed,
shot and no ones around
rendered a helping hand
She’s bleeding to death
before I could call the ambulance
Life could be pleasant all the way for some
It’s like walking in the middle of the park
You feel free to embrace the crouch air
It goes deep into your system
Feel like you were born again
The smile on your face
Paints a little episode of your past
Amid the moon shines on a musing night
The time when lust and passion
Impregnate many dwellers and lovers
Not far below the cold mountain
A stricken two floors ranch house
Were hosting demise session
The mother of three was metastasized
by carcinoma
It’s a grieving time for some
Regardless of where you live
They say life is like a box of chocolate
It’s easy said than done
You love someone and are loved
The mutual is beautiful
But the condition could deteriorate
Heart breaks which could be a precursor to death
The stout politician once said
“today’s world is all about money,
it’s the root of success and last but not least, evil”
Yes, it’s money matters
No money no talk
The infamous phrases
In some region of the world
There’s no longer a democracy
But monecracy
Which is obviously money craze?
Millions of lives perished like ashes,
strewn all over the mourning ocean,
at the hands of politicians
Well, we live by seconds, minutes and hours
The clock is ticking
When the eyes blinking
Another life will succumb
Life is like walking in the middle of the park
You don’t leave anything behind
Unless you want to call it a day
So, what’s life?
Hope Your Happy Poem by Jessica Anonymous
I hope your happy with your life
I hope your happy with your wife
I hope you see what you have done
I hope you see that this is all wrong
I hope you realise that your not perfect
I hope you see that money’s not worth it
I hope you realise that family comes first
I hope you see that my smile was rehearsed
I hope you see that your tearing me apart
I hope you someday grow a heart
I hope someday I will want to see you
I hope someday I wont have to see you
I hope you suffer, but I dont want that
I hope you die, but I dont mean that
I hope someday your ‘love’ will be real
I hope someday you will ‘feel’
I hope you realise that money cant heal
I hope someday you’ll feel, what I feel
I hope that before you die
I hope to tell you, I wont cry
I hoped you would be a good dad
I hoped you wouldnt make me mad
But all my hopes from before are gone
just like the love you had for their mom
I hope that I see you one last time
I hope I get to tell you this:
‘I wish I never knew you
because of you….I wish I didnt exist….’
Bankers Are Just Like Anybody Else, Except Richer Poem by Ogden Nash
This is a song to celebrate banks,
Because they are full of money and you go into them and all
you hear is clinks and clanks,
Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills,
Which is the rustling of the thousand dollar bills.
Most bankers dwell in marble halls,
Which they get to dwell in because they encourage deposits
and discourage withdrawals,
And particularly because they all observe one rule which woe
betides the banker who fails to heed it,
Which is you must never lend any money to anybody unless
they don’t need it.
I know you, you cautious conservative banks!
If people are worried about their rent it is your duty to deny
them the loan of one nickel, yes, even one copper engraving
of the martyred son of the late Nancy Hanks;
Yes, if they request fifty dollars to pay for a baby you must
look at them like Tarzan looking at an uppity ape in the
jungle,
And tell them what do they think a bank is, anyhow, they had
better go get the money from their wife’s aunt or ungle.
But suppose people come in and they have a million and they
want another million to pile on top of it,
Why, you brim with the milk of human kindness and you
urge them to accept every drop of it,
And you lend them the million so then they have two million
and this gives them the idea that they would be better off
with four,
So they already have two million as security so you have no
hesitation in lending them two more,
And all the vice-presidents nod their heads in rhythm,
And the only question asked is do the borrowers want the
money sent or do they want to take it withm.
Because I think they deserve our appreciation and thanks,
the jackasses who go around saying that health and happi-
ness are everything and money isn’t essential,
Because as soon as they have to borrow some unimportant
money to maintain their health and happiness they starve
to death so they can’t go around any more sneering at good
old money, which is nothing short of providential.
Selecting A Reader Poem by Ted Kooser
First, I would have her be beautiful,
and walking carefully up on my poetry
at the loneliest moment of an afternoon,
her hair still damp at the neck
from washing it. She should be wearing
a raincoat, an old one, dirty
from not having money enough for the cleaners.
She will take out her glasses, and there
in the bookstore, she will thumb
over my poems, then put the book back
up on its shelf. She will say to herself,
‘For that kind of money, I can get
my raincoat cleaned.’ And she will.
