They swagger, these gifts of the gods Draped in Savile Row Handmade brogues squeaking Signalling their advance Sleek terminals flashing green and red The latest billions to be made Orchestrated by one perfectly manicured digit A rarefied world, this domain of the trader Tiger women diluting the testosterone just enough To become the next female BSD. (I don’t have the balls In all senses of the word). They all walk and talk a good game Ride the highs and lows with aplomb Possessing animalistic grace, a certain panache Revelling in the glory, drowning the losses in Moët & Chandon Or inside their bonus-bought classic car Seats rubbed smooth with 90mph sex and cocaine Shagging the pressure away in a City side street. Rare beasts, these, Stalking, hunting down that one trade Chasing mammon, winner takes all But I wonder, when it comes down to it When I see those who drew the short straw Carrying their belongings in a cardboard box Incongruously shabby against their Cartier adornments Leaving their ivory tower for the last time Facing down the cameras as journalists hunt in packs Trading titillation for the headline news I wonder – do they think it was worth it, after all? Probably.
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This week, Brian, our host at dVerse Meeting the Bar wants us to consider character – something more akin to penning short stories and novels, rather than poetry. Fabulous! I love a challenge!
My take is all about that much-maligned character, the City trader. I have worked in the Square Mile since last century (no, really!) and have met and seen a few in my time. Some are as bad as the press paints them, many are not. All of them have guts, that’s for sure! I haven’t based my poem on anyone in particular – consider it an amalgamation of many traits I have seen (in traders and other types) over the years.
I hope you enjoy my offering – and please do join us! The hosts all work extremely hard to make the community a success.
Here’s my long-overdue return to dVerse Meeting the Bar. This week, Gay is asking us to write a song! Now that’s a poetry form that brings back strong memories for me – I immediately thought of my mum singing along to Steeleye Span’s ‘All Around My Hat’ as she did the housework, and being taken to a Chieftans’ concert (and falling asleep – aaah, I was only very young!). Folk music is something that my family really enjoys – there is even morris dancing going on too (my mum again, with my step-dad playing an important musical role too).
Suffice to say, I’m a fan of the old folksy ballad, singing of love, loss, pride and passion. So, here’s my attempt… It’s inspired by the centenary year of the Great War – the War to End All Wars (if only). It’s simple, yet I hope it works.
Do visit the other poets who take part in this wonderful community… you’re in for a treat! And do let me know what you think of my song.
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– My Man Joe –
My sweetheart Joe is big and strong With a twinkling eye and a ready smile He works on the railways all week long Just to buy me a posy on a Friday
(chorus) I’ll always be with you, I’ll always be true I’ll stand by your side, forever be true
My fiancé Joe cuts a fine dash Driving his engine through the valleys He collects his wages and gives me cash Just to buy me a dress for our wedding
(chorus) I’ll always be with you, I’ll always be true I’ll stand by your side, forever be true
My husband Joe is a fine, proud dad He plays with his boys on a Sunday He sings in church, gives thanks and is glad For his family, luck and fortune
(chorus) I’ll always be with you, I’ll always be true I’ll stand by your side, forever be true
My soldier Joe walks proud and tall Marching away to the trenches God bless my man! God bless them all! Please let him come back safely
(chorus) I’ll always be with you, I’ll always be true I’ll stand by your side, forever be true
My man Joe gave his life and soul On the far away fields of Flanders For my boys and me he’ll not grow old Nor ever be forgotten.
(chorus) I’ll always be with you, I’ll always be true I’ll stand by your side, forever be true
Here’s my latest entry into the dVerse Meeting the Bar. This week, Gay is asking us to reflect on ourselves, think about how we talk, what we say, reveal a little piece of us in poetry form. I confess, I found this tough, tough, tough. This year, life in the Freya world has been turned upside down, and then all the pieces put back in some form of random order, so I’m not really sure who this ‘me’ is. I think I’m at a chrysalis stage, just deciding what butterfly I’m going to be (positive spin, do you see?).
So, I’m not sure if I fulfil the brief, but better some words than none at all. I do use the language, it sounds typically British as well, I feel (a bit stilted, somewhat diffident, perhaps)?
Do visit the other poets who take part in this wonderful community… you’re in for a treat!
*****
– Threshold –
Being at a crossroads Or maybe halted by a sudden fork, not sure which direction I’ll follow, even where the turn will take me when I blink and look again – I’m not sure of myself Nor do I understand which me I am. The work me is part of it But what is the other me like? How do I behave? What do I do, or say, differently when the responsibility is sloughed off as I walk through the front door? Some days, I bring it home. Not my work concerns per se Just the demeanour. I think it’s time for a reinvention. Long overdue, frivolity has been a stranger at my door. Perhaps with jollity’s return, the prospect of a new beginning
won’t leave that taste of fear on my tongue. The taste that stops the words seeping out.
