Money Poems | The Best Poems about Money Everyone Should Read


    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
    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.