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Business/Trading Poetry but not exclusively.


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Business/Trading Poetry but not exclusively.

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  #1 (permalink)
Calgary Alberta/Canada
 
 
Posts: 934 since Feb 2014

I thought this might be an interesting thread. I hope to see many other contributions here.

I started writing about 20 years ago. It started by keeping a personal journal which helped me a lot in coping with my life.

Have you ever gone to bed think about something that bothered you during the day? Could be anything... work... relationships... people/government interference. You keep reviewing the incident in your head then all of a sudden it comes full circle and you begin the thoughts all over again...it is like an endless 8-track loop.

Well I found that if I put these thoughts to paper, then it cleared my head. Poetry came next in my life. Same catharsis, only a little more creative.

I have written a few work related pieces. I was a sales manager at the time of writing this piece. It is sort of a summary of many many corporate meetings....hope you like it. BTW...Lynxear was my writing handle.


Blood on the Boardroom Floor

Tension scrawled in lined faces,
Seated at the edge of seats,
Backs against the wall,
Verbal knives drawn to the ready,

Flick them out, test their resolve!
Defense, defense....misdirection!
Back and forth, cut and thrust!
Seize the moment, unsheath the swords!

Cut him, cut him....make him panic!
Don’t let him recover!
He’s down, we have him!

Defend your ideals, defend your wisdom,
Most of all defend your honour.


(c) Lynxear 2002

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  #2 (permalink)
Calgary Alberta/Canada
 
 
Posts: 934 since Feb 2014

Over my working life I have been unemployed twice. They were for stretches lasting 8-15 months and were not the result of being fired... rather I suppose that I come from a generation that when you did not know what you wanted to do ... you did nothing until you figured it out. I have had quite a checkerboard working life, having had about 5 careers and a couple of jobs in each one on average over a 34 year working life.

This particular event happened when I was married and it is safe to say it was not a very supportive marriage on either side. I wrote this because I found that writing was like talking to a good friend... who listened and was not judgmental... in real life I lacked that support, though I was married then.

At the time I though this could have been a song.... think Roger Miller "King of the Road" melody. See if you hear it as you read.

Gainfully Unemployed

Midlife crisis hits all they say,
happened to me in the usual way,
crept up...when I least expected it...
Why should I toil for another man’s profit?
Earn my own bread and keep all of it,
seemed like a good idea...at the time...

So gave up a career of 15 or so years,
entered the unknown, kinda wet behind the ears,
learn from your mistakes...that’s what I say...
The wife’s not sure that I am of sound mind.
Says I’m not sighted, but really am blind,
I know what I’m doing...yeah right!...

Mistakes I made and there were quite a few,
teaming up with partners that I hardly knew
was not the best plan...as I look back...
A minority share of the corporate pie,
I’m working on “sweat equity”, no salary (sigh!)
labouring for the future, yes!...But whose?...

A minority shareholder is not what it ought to be,
appears to me a lot like slavery,
hoping...that things will get better...
Comes the time when tensions reach a point
where you feel you just have to leave this joint,
it’s a matter of pride...and dignity...

So now I’m on the street, no where to go,
of course, the wife says, "I told you so!"
that’s exactly...what I need...
She always knew that I’d screw up,
probably read it from the bottom of a cup,
I’m nothing but a lazy bum...her opinion...

So I hit that networking and resume trail
seems like I'm searching for the holy grail,
friends are pleasant...but distant...
They shake your hand and wish you good luck,
your smile seems plastic as you try to buck
up your courage...no mean feat...

The days go on, rejections pile high
you get up next morning to start a new lie,
I'm not unemployed...I'm a consultant...
Semi-retirement is not bad you see
if it were not for the poverty,
Lord, I'd love to see...a paycheck...

But don't worry or fret about my lot
I was the one that put me in this spot
and I'll get out...never fear...
Being out of work just isn't for me,
I'm biding my time, looking for opportunity,
I call it...being "gainfully unemployed"...

(c) Lynxear 1996


And I did recover fine.... I went on to have at least 2 more careers and 4 - 5 jobs after that as well as eventually getting a divorce. I wasn't trading at this time...that came about 6-7 years later.

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  #3 (permalink)
Calgary Alberta/Canada
 
 
Posts: 934 since Feb 2014


Many think that playing the stock market is a gamble. Non-traders certainly think this way and sadly many newbies to trading stocks have the same feeling. Without an investment plan, those traders are gambling with their money, scoring the occasional success but eventually losing their stake. It is probably the reason that 90+% of newbie daytraders lose everything within one year.

This poem was written before I invested in stocks. For a hobby I used to go to a local casino. I played Blackjack. It was a social game for me and we could make small bets at that time if you wanted to...as little as $1 but more common was $2 per play. As a salesman in the 1980's selling scientific instruments, I was introduced to micro computers for the first time. I had an interest in computer programing as in my undergraduate years 10 years earlier I did well at Fortran courses I took and when I graduated was offered a chance to take a Masters in Computer Science...But I was tired of schooling and felt at that time there would be no future in that field as everything would be done and I wanted to work. Hahaha so much for visions of the future back then. So when I got a Epson HX-20 laptop in 1983, I was hooked. 13K of memory, 4mHz with a 4 line x 20 character screen, paper-tape printer and micro-cassette data storage...it was state of the art at that time and was the first usable programmable scientific computer at that time.

Everyone I showed it to wanted to know what games could be played on it. I knew the company would buy no games so I decided to create my own...It was Blackjack....believe it or not...I could play 3 players versus the computer dealer with double downs and splits on 20 characters x 4 lines....it was a hit and helped my computer cred selling the product to IT department customers. So I understood playing blackjack but did not want to play for serious money...by playing $2 bets I could make $20 usually last 2-3 hours. At the end I would lose all or I think I made $100 one time. I enjoyed the company of the table (good players gravitate together) and I liked to observe individuals...the good and the self-destructive.

This is a poem addressing the problem gambler. He/she is the classic loser who cannot kick the habit.... the addict. I expect the same emotions are present in the problem investor with no plan.

The Gambler

Chips stacked neatly in front,
Thumbed with a vacant stare.
Click...click......click...click...
Pondering the odds ,
His eyes focused straight ahead.
A thumb nail drawn lightly
Across the green nap,
Another card slides
From the dealer’s hand...
A backward wave of the hand
Completes his turn
The dealer reveals his cards and
In a flourish removes the bet.

The gambler replaces the wager,
Into that taunting circle,
Click...click......click...
Cards are dealt anew,
Met with those same empty eyes.
What goes on in his mind?
What thoughts are his alone?
Is he married?
Does he have children?
Do they know of his disease?
Do they care?

The dealer motions to him.
Doubling his bet, he calls for one card.
Click...click...
Damn! this luck must change,
Can’t lose forever...can he?
But she is gone from him,
This whore, this Lady of Luck.
Painting visions, promises,
Flirting with another lonely heart.
Oh...she has been generous
With her time and caress
While he had money to spend
But she wanted it for herself.

Now that he has none
She has left in search of more.
Click...
He craves her touch
Waits for her return,
Longing for just one run of cards
That will bring him that rush,
That fortune that he deserves...
New cards snap to the table.
A sigh escapes his lips
He places the last of his chips.
Others are laughing,
Joking or talking, but not him.

For him there is no joy,
No release for this private hell.
The dealer turns a BlackJack,
He pushes himself from the table.
With a quick smile, he turns to leave,
But that jealous harlot calls again
In the chimes of a slot machine.
With shriek of laughter as the “lucky one”
Catches coins spilling everywhere.
The bank machine sings its siren song
From the island by the door,
Just as the Loreli doomed sailors to the rocks
If they listened to her melody,

Chips stacked neatly in front,
Thumbed with a vacant stare.
Click...click......click...click...
This time he knows that she will be his,
She will not fail him now...



(c) Lynxear 2001

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  #4 (permalink)
Calgary Alberta/Canada
 
 
Posts: 934 since Feb 2014

The tolerance for risk means many things to many people. You take risks every time you travel to work each morning. Your car could be involved in an accident whether you are driving or not, you may encounter a virulent disease by passing through the mist of a cough of an infected person on a bus or subway, you could be the victim of a robbery or a mugging...the list is endless. But we accept these risks ... at least most of us do ... never giving day to day activities a thought.

My father taught us that risk was acceptable when under some kind of control. He said....

"Never be afraid of making a mistake. If you never take a chance in life you will never know your limitations and you will restrict your ability to learn from life. However, make sure that the mistakes you make are "cheap" mistakes and that you gained from the experience."

The concept of cheap to him could mean many things. If you were involved in a serious traffic accident which totaled your new car, you made a cheap mistake if you and others involved in the accident escaped death or serious injury. Cars are costly but they can be replaced...life and health are far more precious.

He advocated educated risk. He encouraged us to study a situation/challenge thoroughly, not rushing into a challenge blindly and adopting just one strategy to solve the problem. He wanted us to imagine all possible scenarios and then evaluate their possibilities of success and then choose the most likely to succeed. The other solutions were relegated to plans B and C...exits to mitigate the cost of failure while still trying to solve the problem. He wanted us to anticipate failure but not to dwell on that failure....if it happened, well you should then understand the problem a little better from your attempt and assuming the goal was still attainable you now had more information to work through a new solution. As long as he controlled the costs of failure he prevented a catastrophe and hence it was rare that the problem, whatever it was, was not solved eventually.

For me, stock trading is an educated risk venture. I am never 100% successful but while I may suffer setbacks ( the greatest one being the 2008-2009 financial crash where on paper I lost 45% of my assets) I have never risked my portfolio to the point where I lost everything...and I have been trading for about 10 years with 8 of those years where the returns from investments have been my sole source of income. I have taken educated risks with planned exits and have learned many lessons from the mistakes I have made.

Does that mean I take risks in every aspect of life??? No!!! I don't take risks where there is no control to the outcome. I would never consider bungie jumping for the thrill of the experience, I don't go skydiving for the same reason....I don't want the last thoughts before I die to be "Oh shit!!!!"

When it comes to personal relationships, I seem to be risk averse {sigh}. I was never an outgoing teenager and made a bad choice in marriage. Though I suffered emotionally for over 20 years that was a cheap mistake for me as I exited the marriage eventually with a terrific son and remained financially intact.

But I have often pondered on why I am not willing to take risks in personal relationships since then....I wrote this poem as a result....

The Chasm

A deep chasm divides the lonely trail.
A single plank lies across the expanse.
Placing my foot on this strip of wood,
I nervously avert my eyes as,
Icy winds claw at my body,
trying to toss me into the void.

Why am I afraid of crossing this bridge?
Were the plank placed on the ground,
there would be no problem at all.
I could skip happily, stop,
observe my surroundings and dance
with arms stretched out wide to the sky.

But then there would be no risk....
Yes, risk....the fear of failure immobilizing us all.
Creating obstacles where in reality none exist.
What if I fall?....comes first to mind.
The rewards of crossing the bridge are distant...
What if I fall?

Seated at a bar room table with friends.
Relaxing in a cocoon of familiarity,
a woman passes and our eyes briefly meet.
She is pretty...no gorgeous!...and seated alone.
Why don’t I introduce myself...
just walk over...

‘Well, she is probably waiting for someone’,
I console myself...but minutes pass and
she is still alone. If she were an old friend
there would be no problem.
‘Yes, but the plank would be on the ground’,
I smile to myself.

I want to get up but my mind is tainted
by the deeps of rejection.
What if she says no?...Frozen by the risk,
I cannot bridge the chasm.
She leaves as I watch helplessly,
whispering a silent goodbye.


(c) Lynxear 1998


So risk varies with the activity, for me anyway. Good luck in your trading and hopefully employing educated risk

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  #5 (permalink)
Calgary Alberta/Canada
 
 
Posts: 934 since Feb 2014

Everyone has bad days. Days when you wonder if you really make a difference.

Thankfully those days are fewer now. But there was a time in my life when things were not going well...and the only person I could talk to was myself through my writing...actually it really helps you focus on the issues...at least for me.

Not a fun write...but loaded with meaning for me.


Wasted

I wasted an hour today.
Lost in thought, sitting at a desk,
Staring out the window, oblivious to time.
Don’t ask what I was thinking about.
Can’t remember really...

I wasted a day today.
Just threw it away, without any thought,
tossed like crumpled newspaper into a basket.
Hell, I’ve got thousands of them,
nothing special about today...

I wasted my life today.
Finite, perishable life, disappearing while,
searching for solutions to undefined problems.
No goals to strive for, no one to share.
must be something more than this...


(c) Lynxear 1997


Everyone has days like this. The trick is to put such days behind you and renew your faith in life

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  #6 (permalink)
Calgary Alberta/Canada
 
 
Posts: 934 since Feb 2014

The last few pieces I posted were a bit on the downer side so I thought I would put up a couple of poems that are on the lighter side.

This first one is more of a RANT than a poem. Actually it is the only rant I have written.

In Calgary we have a light rapid transit system and your mind tends to wander when you are commuting to work. This rant was created after one of those commutes and was in response to another poet named Nell who wrote a rant about MEN.


Blue Jean Rant (Some women may not see the humour)

**********************************************************
This is meant as a humour piece and not aimed at all women.
To quote Nell in her disclaimer on "Men" :
"I hope that i DON"T OFFEND anyone,sorry if it does!"
I couldn't say it better.
**********************************************************

What IS going on with women these days?

They want to be taken seriously,
looked on for their mind...not their body,
but they are a bunch of sheep!
slaves to fashion, I guess...

Look at those jeans!! LOOK AT THEM!
God...if they were any lower I would see lips!

And they want to be viewed seriously?
not as sex objects...yeah right!...
and these aren’t just 15-17 year old
Britney Spear wanna’ be’s...
these are fully growed wimin’...damn!

Who, if you stared, would rant on you
for being a sicko...but why DO they
dress like that...we used to call it trollin'
in my day...well if you cast out your line
you got to expect some bottom fish...haha

hard not to stare though with this
literal...in-your-face-attack.

Low at the front...low at the back,
Hell! I haven’t seen more butt cracks
since that fat plumber was over!

Now, don’t get me wrong...
I appreciate the female form,
that soft curve of the abdomen
from the navel on down...lovely...soft,
on most anyway...fit ones that is...

Let’s face it girls...
when the fat rolls over the jeans
there is only one word that applies
to men as well as women,
Gut!!! it is a GUT...

On men it could be a “Beer GUT”
on women...I don’t know...
but it is a gut nonetheless.
It looks as sexy to men as
a beer gut looks to women
eeeehhhwwuuu...send chills
up and down the spine...doncha’ know!

So there I was,
sitting on a subway seat,
minding my own business
thinking about work,
when suddenly, the masses part
as Moses did the Red Sea
and this navel with ring appears
before my eyes....

Good thing it was silver
and not brass..never had
a chance at reaching
that brass ring yet...hehehe

Hell, I ain’t seen a show this close
since I went to the bar
with the guys last month!

Swaying back and forth
with the motion of the train...
I mean, right at eye level...Damn!
Was all I could do to keep me from
reaching into my wallet, grabbing
a five spot and stuffing it down
below that ring....hahaha

Yes...definitely one of those
women that want to be taken
seriously...you know...for their mind!

Hey BUDDY!!...quit pushin’..
no crowding on this train....

Spoils the view... {wink}



(c) Lynxear 2001


Gotta get back to work

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  #7 (permalink)
Calgary Alberta/Canada
 
 
Posts: 934 since Feb 2014

Well it is July and it is Calgary, Alberta...time for the Calgary Stampede ... the outdoor festival that traces its roots to 1912...which is ancient history in this area of Canada with the province of Alberta forming here in 1905.

I moved here in 1988 during the 1988 winter Olympics as a sales manager for a company that I worked for in Toronto...a hated easterner...though I was careful to point out that I was born in Winnipeg so I should be cut a break . I made sales calls dressed as I normally did in Toronto - slacks, blazer, dress shirt and tie. During the week I was told to dress western but that seemed to me to be silly at the time but in truth many people were in jeans, western shirt and cowboy hat.

That morning I had to call on an oilfield executive in his office....I entered the office and he was dressed in jeans, western shirt and cowboy hat....he immediately whipped out a pair of scissors, grabbed my tie, cut it in half, smiled and told me to come back when I was properly dressed...hahahaha

That was 25 years ago, it has not changed much since then...this is a city of 1.3 million people of all stripes and cultures but for 10 days we are cowboys...about at least a third of us anyway.

Here is a poem I wrote to describe the experience.

Stampeding

Beginning at dawn in early July,
griddles are hot and volunteers fry
pancakes and sausage with coffee for free.
it is part of tradition, in Calgary.

The streets are lined early with kids young and old.
Dressed western in denim, a sight to behold.
Marching bands, clowns, floats, native braid,
cowboys and horses in the Stampede parade.

Canada’s pride, uniformed in red serge,
The Musical Ride, does perfectly merge
horse and rider in color and sound,
visitors the world over, here can be found.

Corn dogs, french fries, pizza, candy floss,
barkers, lights and midway rides toss
screaming daredevils high up into the air
not for the faint of heart, so beware.

Livestock and craft exhibitions abound,
locations all over the park can be found.
Watch blacksmiths work iron heated red,
forming horseshoes and nails in a hot smoky shed.

Escape from the noise to the Indian village
and learn about the First Nation’s heritage.
Tasting bannock, made on open fire
watched by towering teepees that we admire.

An outdoor stage with grass, so sweet.
Drummers chanting and pounding a beat,
while dancers in beaded and feathered dress
circle the stage with the art they express.

On to the Grandstand and rodeo’s roar,
calf roping, steer wrestling, bronc riding, more.
The barrel racer, as she leans into the turn,
urging her horse for a faster return.

The rodeo clown draws laughs from the crowd
as the bull knocks over his barrel, so proud
of throwing his rider face down in the dirt,
The grandstand gasps, ‘Ohhh! That’s gotta hurt’.

A horn announces the start of the race,
chuckwagons fly at a furious pace.
Around their barrels and into the turns,
the inside rail is what each team yearns.

Outriders gallop through dust and the dirt
kicked up by wagon wheels as they flirt
with danger, rounding into home stretch,
looking for day-money, that first place will fetch.

For night on the town and a few yeehaws!!
Cowboys, Ranchman’s and The Outlaws,
Line-dance, thumbs in your belt tight
or two-step your partner, all through the night.

Watching the fireworks to end the day.
Time to head home and hit the hay.
But don’t think that this Stampede has been done,
Heck, there’s nine more days, this was just one!


(c) Lynxear 1998


Time to get outta here.....Yahooooooooooooooo!

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  #8 (permalink)
Singapore
 
 
Posts: 11 since Feb 2014
Thanks: 0 given, 3 received


Underexposed View Post
Well it is July and it is Calgary, Alberta...time for the Calgary Stampede ... the outdoor festival that traces its roots to 1912...which is ancient history in this area of Canada with the province of Alberta forming here in 1905.

I moved here in 1988 during the 1988 winter Olympics as a sales manager for a company that I worked for in Toronto...a hated easterner...though I was careful to point out that I was born in Winnipeg so I should be cut a break . I made sales calls dressed as I normally did in Toronto - slacks, blazer, dress shirt and tie. During the week I was told to dress western but that seemed to me to be silly at the time but in truth many people were in jeans, western shirt and cowboy hat.

That morning I had to call on an oilfield executive in his office....I entered the office and he was dressed in jeans, western shirt and cowboy hat....he immediately whipped out a pair of scissors, grabbed my tie, cut it in half, smiled and told me to come back when I was properly dressed...hahahaha

That was 25 years ago, it has not changed much since then...this is a city of 1.3 million people of all stripes and cultures but for 10 days we are cowboys...about at least a third of us anyway.

Here is a poem I wrote to describe the experience.

Stampeding

Beginning at dawn in early July,
griddles are hot and volunteers fry
pancakes and sausage with coffee for free.
it is part of tradition, in Calgary.

The streets are lined early with kids young and old.
Dressed western in denim, a sight to behold.
Marching bands, clowns, floats, native braid,
cowboys and horses in the Stampede parade.

Canada’s pride, uniformed in red serge,
The Musical Ride, does perfectly merge
horse and rider in color and sound,
visitors the world over, here can be found.

Corn dogs, french fries, pizza, candy floss,
barkers, lights and midway rides toss
screaming daredevils high up into the air
not for the faint of heart, so beware.

Livestock and craft exhibitions abound,
locations all over the park can be found.
Watch blacksmiths work iron heated red,
forming horseshoes and nails in a hot smoky shed.

Escape from the noise to the Indian village
and learn about the First Nation’s heritage.
Tasting bannock, made on open fire
watched by towering teepees that we admire.

An outdoor stage with grass, so sweet.
Drummers chanting and pounding a beat,
while dancers in beaded and feathered dress
circle the stage with the art they express.

On to the Grandstand and rodeo’s roar,
calf roping, steer wrestling, bronc riding, more.
The barrel racer, as she leans into the turn,
urging her horse for a faster return.

The rodeo clown draws laughs from the crowd
as the bull knocks over his barrel, so proud
of throwing his rider face down in the dirt,
The grandstand gasps, ‘Ohhh! That’s gotta hurt’.

A horn announces the start of the race,
chuckwagons fly at a furious pace.
Around their barrels and into the turns,
the inside rail is what each team yearns.

Outriders gallop through dust and the dirt
kicked up by wagon wheels as they flirt
with danger, rounding into home stretch,
looking for day-money, that first place will fetch.

For night on the town and a few yeehaws!!
Cowboys, Ranchman’s and The Outlaws,
Line-dance, thumbs in your belt tight
or two-step your partner, all through the night.

Watching the fireworks to end the day.
Time to head home and hit the hay.
But don’t think that this Stampede has been done,
Heck, there’s nine more days, this was just one!


(c) Lynxear 1998


Time to get outta here.....Yahooooooooooooooo!

That's a very nice quote. I'm gonna print it out and put in my room.

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  #9 (permalink)
Calgary Alberta/Canada
 
 
Posts: 934 since Feb 2014


eminikelvin View Post
That's a very nice quote. I'm gonna print it out and put in my room.

Glad you like it...go ahead...I like comments on my writing

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  #10 (permalink)
Calgary Alberta/Canada
 
 
Posts: 934 since Feb 2014


Ever wonder if it is all worth it? I think it hits everyone at some time of their life. I wrote this one a while ago. It is kinda dark but I find it useful to put pen to paper as it draws out those thoughts so they can be studied and not rattle endlessly in my brain.

I have one really dark poem but I won't show it here. It was based on feelings I had as a teenager a long long time ago. I love blues music and I took a stab at writing a Blues song. I have the melody in my head but not being a musician I could not go any further. My next door neighbour was a school band teacher...so I decided to ask his opinion as to whether that poem could be put to music...big mistake...hahaha...he started to read it and his eyes clouded over.

"This is pretty dark", he says.
"Yeah, that was the intent", I replied.

He looked at me as though he was looking at an axe murderer, saying "No, I can't do anything with this..."

We were still good neighbours but he kept his distance for the most part...definitely not a Blues lover

Anyway, this is not that dark...more introspection on a bad day.

I could say, I hope you enjoy it....I'll settle for hope you appreciate it.

The Best Teacher...Hah!

I've grown old
before my time.
Mistakes I've made
never seeming to climb.

I look in the mirror
a stranger stares back.
How did he get here?
My heart just turns black.

Time's the best teacher
you can't prove it by me.
Mistakes just repeated
to my misery.

Look at the result
tired, alone.
No time for change
feel gnawed to the bone.

Nothing is left
take yoke from the plow.
A smash at that vision,
is all I have now.

(c) Lynxear 2014

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  #11 (permalink)
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The Teacher

Grown old,
before my time.
Mistakes I've made,
never seeming to climb.

Looked in the mirror,
a stranger stared back.
How did he get here?
My heart just turned black.

Time is the best teacher,
you won't prove it by me.
Mistakes just repeated
for constant misery.

Look at the result -
tired and alone.
No time for change,
just gnawed to the bone.

Nothing to lean on, just
the yoke from the plow.
A vision of derision,
is all that's left now.

From rats, full credits to (c) Lynxear 2014


I liked it enough to want to play with the scan, I hope you don't mind another version, it's nearly all the same. I also had dark ones from years gone by, and although I prefer to leave them in the box these days, it's always good to share. Thanks for posting it.

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  #12 (permalink)
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ratfink View Post
The Teacher

Grown old,
before my time.
Mistakes I've made,
never seeming to climb.

Looked in the mirror,
a stranger stared back.
How did he get here?
My heart just turned black.

Time is the best teacher,
you won't prove it by me.
Mistakes just repeated
for constant misery.

Look at the result -
tired and alone.
No time for change,
just gnawed to the bone.

Nothing to lean on, just
the yoke from the plow.
A vision of derision,
is all that's left now.

From rats, full credits to (c) Lynxear 2014


I liked it enough to want to play with the scan, I hope you don't mind another version, it's nearly all the same. I also had dark ones from years gone by, and although I prefer to leave them in the box these days, it's always good to share. Thanks for posting it.

hahaha....as long as you don't publish it and earn money from it I have no problem.

You are just exercising a little "wordsmithing" something that I do regularly on my own work.

You changed the tense basically with a few line changes...I like the present tense for this one a lot more.

of the changes you made I like a couple and don't like a couple more

Like:

Look at the result -
tired and alone.
No time for change,
just gnawed to the bone.


your version flows smoother than mine, though I still would take out the "and" ....the line seems awkward when I read it with "and" in.

don't like:

(a) I don't like the title...I like mine better....sets the mood for the piece.

(b) your ending does not project a reaction as mine did...yours is acceptance....mine is fighting back, nothing to lose.

Nothing to lean on, just
the yoke from the plow.
A vision of derision,
is all that's left now.


compared to mine

Nothing is left
take yoke from the plow.
A smash at that vision,
is all I have now.



Poetry to me is like painting...you really don't know what the poet is talking about unless you can get in their head. The use of metaphor obscures the meaning from all but the poet.

I have had poems I have written commented on as to how I moved an individual but it was not in ways I thought about when writing the piece. It is like looking at an abstract painting and liking it for something you see.

Does that bother me...no, not at all...poets write for themselves...if someone else likes the writing for whatever other reason...that is a bonus.

why don't you make a contribution to the thread???

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  #13 (permalink)
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h
why don't you make a contribution to the thread???

In time, but for now I'm snowed under with writing C# poems.

Interesting to read your other comments, and I agree with much that you wrote.

At the end of the day the beauty of the experience (life, music, art and poetry, etc) is that it is all subjective. For me, finally reaching acceptance was more important than the fight. Like with the bipolar, there are some things I know I can't win, so I just try not to lose too heavily and that has helped me greatly. Life is a lot like trading after all, tense changes or not.

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ratfink View Post

At the end of the day the beauty of the experience (life, music, art and poetry, etc) is that it is all subjective. For me, finally reaching acceptance was more important than the fight.

I appreciate that and wish I had more capacity to accept. For me it depends on the strength of the issue. If it is within my realm of ability to right-a-wrong or to achieve an objective I will not give up until I have exhausted any and all approaches to the problem....as such some issues seem to fester for a while if I still have fire in my belly but am temporarily at a loss for a solution.

Relationships are like that for me. I have been divorced from a very bad marriage for 10 years now (though I gained an excellent son in the process). I am in that "approach/avoidance" stage in the few relationships I have had since then. It is a trust issue and I wish I could overcome it...I fight it but old wounds are hard to bind.

Here is a piece I wrote during my marriage....PLEASE don't wordsmith this one....I was married 16 years by the time this poem was written...I "fought" through it for another 7 years until my son made it through college and was settled into his career...did not want to mess him up in his teen years though he actually told me to divorce his mother back then.

A Stranger in my House

Alarm bell shatters silence,
sleep filled eyes are open.
Is it all a dream,
or is this reality?

Kettle screams for mercy.
Someone’s in the kitchen.
Making toast and coffee,
but only just for one.

No one says “Good Morning.”
Sit down at the table,
the rustle of a newspaper
and tinkle of a spoon.

Outside darkness lightens.
Biting cold lies waiting.
Each of us, trudges off,
to begin another day.

Had a chat with Peter.
Peter is a good friend.
A companion and confidant,
since we were early teens.

Emotions bubble forth,
whenever he’s excited.
Always firm and strong
in opinions that he holds.

Lately he’s been quiet,
under constant prodding.
Not at all aroused by,
the stranger in my house.

Back at home for dinner,
tired from a long day.
Ignoring one another,
we feast on loneliness.

Retire to the bedroom.
Slide ‘neath icy sheets.
Weary eyes close slowly.
Will this stranger ever go?



(c) Lynxear 1996


My suite of poems does contain whimsical and happy stuff too ... hahaha. It seems though I cannot right very much when days are ordinary. In fact I lost my muse for many years after my divorce but in the final years of my marriage I HAD to write very often...I had to have someone to talk to, if that makes any sense to you.

I keep looking at this line in your last message

"Life is a lot like trading"

that could be a title for a decent poem

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Blood on the Boardroom Floor

Tension scrawled in lined faces,
Seated at the edge of seats,
Backs against the wall,
Verbal knives drawn to the ready,

Flick them out, test their resolve!
Defense, defense....misdirection!
Back and forth, cut and thrust!
Seize the moment, unsheath the swords!

Cut him, cut him....make him panic!
Don’t let him recover!
He’s down, we have him!

Defend your ideals, defend your wisdom,
Most of all defend your honour.


(c) Lynxear 2002

I can relate to this. Reminds me what a high percentage of backstabbing a-holes there are around.

There is no honour though. That, I didn't see much of.

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DionysusToast View Post
I can relate to this. Reminds me what a high percentage of backstabbing a-holes there are around.

There is no honour though. That, I didn't see much of.

Yes, I was an industrial salesman/manager for about 15 years of my working life and this poem was a condensation of all of the boardroom meetings that I witnessed. The defense of honour comes when it is you that is the battler against the others at the table.

I found that one had to be pretty aggressive at times to get your point or proposal across...otherwise you could be cut to ribbons verbally by others who would suffer if you were successful at the meeting. Yes, the boardroom meeting an be a vicious, though often deceptively polite battle ground.

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At first I thought the poem was about the trading pit, but I guess it can be related to both

R.I.P. Joseph Bach (Itchymoku), 1987-2018.
Please visit this thread for more information.
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Itchymoku View Post
At first I thought the poem was about the trading pit, but I guess it can be related to both

Well other than the title giving away the poem's intent, I have never been in a trading pit...So I cannot comment on how similar that poem would be to that arena.

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Well other than the title giving away the poem's intent, I have never been in a trading pit...So I cannot comment on how similar that poem would be to that arena.

yeah, I have a bad habit of glancing over text and then something catches my eye and I skim through it before reading the whole post/thread. I do enjoy the poetry

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  #20 (permalink)
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It is nice to see comment on my poetry but I really don't have many Trading poems.

I thought it would be fun to try a multi-person poem. It is called an Add-a-line

It is called an Add-a-line and here are the "rules"

1. each person is only allowed to add up to 2 lines of lyrics to the previous submission
2. You cannot make 2 submissions in a row (someone has to add to your bit before you can add another)
3. The additions don't have to rhyme with previous lines but you should try to maintain the flow of the poem.
4. The content should be consistent with the poem title and not vary dramatically from the previous posts (though you can introduce subtle changes that may be picked up on by others
5. copy and paste the contributions to your post before adding your contribution (so it can be read in its entirety)

I will start the poem with the title and first 2 lines...The tile really comes from a comment @ratfink made to me earlier.

Life is a lot like Trading

Alarm bell rings, time to get up
Make toast and coffee, log on for the day.

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Alarm bell rings, time to get up
Make toast and coffee, log on for the day.
plot the swings, and drink the cup.
Make another pot of coffee as price makes way.

R.I.P. Joseph Bach (Itchymoku), 1987-2018.
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  #22 (permalink)
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Life is a lot like Trading

Alarm bell rings, time to get up
Make toast and coffee, log on for the day.
plot the swings, and drink the cup.
Make another pot of coffee as price makes way.

Am I short or am I long, I ponder
Always a problem for me.

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  #23 (permalink)
Calgary Alberta/Canada
 
 
Posts: 934 since Feb 2014

I'll add another 2 lines to move this along

Life is a lot like Trading

Alarm bell rings, time to get up
Make toast and coffee, log on for the day.
plot the swings, and drink the cup.
Make another pot of coffee as price makes way.

Now I ponder, long or short
Always a problem for me.
Relationships, women, stocks or options,
All the same you see.

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  #24 (permalink)
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Well I can see there is not a lot of enthusiasm for making this "add a line" poem. My thanks to @Itchymoku for his contribution. It is too bad as this type of collaboration can be quite fun and lead one in directions that you don't expect to go.

But as a change of pace, have you ever had an incident that happened on your way to your normal or in my case a former traditional job. It was not a boring job as I was in my computer programming era (I had several types of careers in my working life) but starting the day was always a trial and during the writing of this piece I was firmly in the throes of a bad marriage.

So with that background...enjoy...

Taken for a Ride

Standing at a station
waiting for the train
eyes are aching slightly,
dregs of sleep remain.
One of numbered masses
off to work we go,
another day is starting
for just another joe.

Doors go whoosh behind you
stumble to your seat.
A drunken lurch, the train is off
sandwiched in like meat.
Trying not to touch
hands resting on your thighs.
Looking round everywhere
but not another’s eyes.

See the business man
buried in financial news.
See the drunken bum
still smelling of his booze.
See the student, working hard
on a project overdue.
See the tart across the aisle
with hair of bottled hue.

Eyes now close slowly as
you sway from side to side,
clickety-clack, clickety-clack
you cross the other side.
Now aboard a Spanish galleon
fighting battles on high seas.
The deck heaves up and down
while dueling pirates with ease.

Freeing captive maidens
from fates far worse then death,
Kisses show their gratitude
that frankly take your breath.
Head now strikes the windowpane
your eyes start with a pop.
Then suddenly you realize
‘Oh %#$!, I missed my stop!’


(c) Lynxear June/99

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  #25 (permalink)
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I haven't posted here for a while so I thought I would add another piece.

The inspiration came from my father. We were talking about a road trip I was planning on taking. I thought about what he had to say and I thought it was a great life philosophy and wrote it down

My Philosophy

Always set a goal in life,
But explore diversions
as you march forward.
They may be interesting.
They may be such that
you revise your plans.
But, if it doesn't work out,
it is no matter, since you
weren't going there anyway.


(c) Lynxear June/2004

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I was thinking about having a thread where people free write similar to poetry.

Basically they start off either with or without a subject in mind and then continuously type out what they're thinking without editing it and then submit it. What do you think?

R.I.P. Joseph Bach (Itchymoku), 1987-2018.
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would it be weird if I kept posting poetry on this thread even though the OP has been banned?

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Itchymoku View Post
would it be weird if I kept posting poetry on this thread even though the OP has been banned?

I would suggest a new thread.

Mike

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