What Christmas Is All About

Another "Life Writing" poem.

Santa slides down the chimney with grace, hoping the children he does not wake.
Placing the neatly wrapped toys under the tree, while his smile is filled with glee.
I ask you now, is this the scene that depicts the Christmas dream?

On the television screen a football game can be seen, and in the living room a Christmas tree stands tall and green.
Mom is in the kitchen with Aunt Sally and Miss Susie Mae, cooking the special dinner of the day.
Everyone has been fed and all the Christmas cards have been read.
You open your presents and to your dismay all you have gotten so far is socks, shirts, and lingerie.
As the day progresses on and everyone begins to leave, you feel happy and quite relieved that the day went well and you even got a present from stingy old cousin Gayle.
I ask you now, is this the scene that depicts the Christmas dream?

In the hospital, a mother smiles.
For the birth of a wonderful child.
The father sighs with relief.
The children stand in awed belief.
The doctor said, "It's a girl."  "It's a boy."
Grandma came and brought a toy.
The family sent cards and many things.
Oh, what joy a baby brings.
I ask you now, is this the scene that depicts the Christmas dream?

In a dark alley a lonely man sits, he needs help, but that no stranger will admit.
He has but one thought and that is what has this Christmas brought.
This Christmas has brought nothing but sadness and hardship and many unmentionable slips.
For his wife just died, his house burned down, and now he has no use for pride.
What has life to offer this man, but an empty plate and a bowl of sand.
I ask you now, is this the scene that depicts the Christmas dream?

In a dark room She sits, and wonders why on this holiday does she cry.
Mom and Dad just called the marriage to an end, because of Dad's new found friend.
She must decide with who she wants to reside.  All She wants really wants to do is hide.
There is no Aunt Sally and no Miss Susie Mae.  There is no special dinner of the day.
Everything is not going well and there is no stingy old cousin Gayle.
I ask you now, is this the scene that depicts the Christmas dream?


Now, I take you back to that cold December day, when the sky was clear, but the feeling was not so gay.
For King Herrod had declared that all men had to return to their homeland to be taxed.
In the town of Nazareth, Joseph gathered his wife and placed her on a donkey's back.
She was great with Child and the journey was long, but this Child was special and with Him no one could go wrong.
As they entered the city of Bethlehem that hard task of finding a room begins, but there was no room in any of the inns,
So into a stable they had to stay and once again God had made a way.
Jesus was born on that day and in a bed of hay He did lay.
The angles sang and bells rang and told of the special news, the East star likewise did the shepherds amuse,
For it told of the special birth that had just occurred on the planet Earth.
The wise men came with gold, frankincense, and myrrh, as Jesus laid with the herd.
I ask you now, is this the scene that depicts the Christmas dream? 

Up Above The Clouds

The clouds look like white cotton candy.
So beautiful to behold.
The white milky substance engulfs us all about.
The sun shining bright.
So beautiful to behold.
Sprinkles of blue sky seen here and there.
God you are a wonderful creator.
Is this what eagles see on every flight?
Up above the clouds, I sit in wondrous thought.
Is this just a little glimpse of what Heaven is like?

Sunday Morning Service

Another one of my "Life Writing" Poems.

"What a friend we have in Jesus,"
My brother songs in his usual off key tones.
"Lord, why must that boy always sings,"
My mother moans.
I look in the mirror,
As I continued to get dressed.
Today is the day,
The Lord will truly bless.
The breakfast of champions.
"Wheaties" of course.
My brother is still singing,
But now it sounds worse.
Dad makes a face.
Then he screams,
"Boy, be quiet,
Cause you can't even sing!"
My brother shrugs his shoulders,
Then walks off with a frown.
My mother goes and hugs him,
So, he won't feel down.
We grab bibles, purses,
And all else.
I had to go back,
To get Mom's keys off the shelf.

We arrive at the church,
Not a moment too late.
We missed early morning service.
It started at eight.
Sunday school is just beginning.
The Superintendent does his bit.
The classes are called to order.
And everyone sits.
Sis. Faye explains the lesson,
Showing her years of experience.
Then Jason asks a question.
The answer made sense.
Ester counted how many were there.
And took up the offering.
As Trina picked something out of Brandon's hair.

Sunday School is finally over.
We gather in the hall.
We talk. We laugh.
But mostly we hold up the wall.
We clown and we talk some more.
Deacon Chauncey yells,
"Ya'll are talking too loud!"
Sherron makes a face.
Herbert echoes, "Ya'll are talking too loud!"
I blink for a second.


Then I stare.
Uhm, my Lord.
Rabin looks good standing over there.
Wait a minute here.
Let me get my mind on track.
Out of the corner of my eye,
I see Rabin staring back.
We sing the morning hymn,
"I'll Fly Away."
Then Rev. Lester says, "Bow your heads,
Then, he prays.
He prayed for the nation.
And every man.
He prayed for healing
All over this land.
Elder Phillips read a scripture.
Verse by verse.
I saw Mama Narist
Put something in her purse.
Time for testimonies,
So the blessings people can tell.
The first person to testify
Was Minister Ray Shell.
Then came Missionary Stacy Bearse,
Energetic as ever.
She told the story of
How God saved her son Trevor.
Then she told another story.
She sure said a lot of words.
She ended enthusiastically,
"What a mighty God, I serve!"

"Are you ready for the choir?",
Asked Elder Jangleton as the musician
played some notes.
The directress took her place.
As the soloist cleared her throat.
"God is everything to me,"
From the choir as they rocked and clapped.
Liz sang a verse.
She asked the people to clap.
The song is over.
The audience gave its applause.
Then Ronnie took the mike
To sing "I Will Trust In The Lord."
Somebody said, "Hallelujah."
Somebody said, "Gone and sang."
Sis. Greer raised her hands.
Through the rafters Ronnie's voice rang.

Sabrina Ransom read the announcements.
So everyone could hear.
"Take heed accordingly."
Eeh Marlowe is playing with her ear.
Time for the welcome.
Here comes Cevelia Merchant down the aisle.
All the guests stand.
As she welcomes them with a smile.
"What time is it?"
"It's offering time."
"What time is it?"
"It's offering time."
Sister Quester officiates the offering
With her usual style and flair.
$100, $50, $20, 5.
People in the sanctuary stand,
everywhere.

The preacher stands
For the preached word.
Now I know she ain't nodding.
"Look at Mother Mattie Byrd."
He gives honor.
To whom honor is due.
He says a few other words.
Then his greetings are through.
He read his scripture.
Matthew 6:24-34.
He said, "I'd like to use for a subject
"Push Button Faith.".

A few people said, "Yes."
Somebody said, "Amen."
Sis. Barrea frowned at her kids.
And Missionary Turner raised her hand.
He talked for a few minutes,
About fast forward and rewind.
He told us some things.
To contemplate in our minds.
He went on a little while longer.

Then he began to tune up.
Before he got too happy,
He told the organist to catch up.
He said, "Uhh huh," and "Oo yea."
He said, "Lord, have mercy."
Bro. King stated, "Amen."
So did Deacon Percy.
He tugged his ear.
He waved his hand.
He said, "Push button religion."
Then I saw a few people stand.
We were having church.
And that was for sure.
He drew to a close about two times.
Maybe it was four.
He told one more story.
Then his voice began to slow.
He said a few more words.
Then, he let us go.


Outside in the vestibule
Things are in disarray.
Kids screaming for their mother.
And David looking for his Uncle Donald Ray.
Rabin walks by me.
I think I may just die.
He spoke to Sis. Myles.
Then he told me hi.
"Girl, you better bring your behind on!"
Lord, why is that boy talking so loud.
I grimace at my brother.
As I push through the crowd.
There stands Sis. Jenkins,
In her purple dress.
What is Minister Talton talking about?
I sure like his vest.
I hop in the car.
And wave at Bishop Pervis.
I can't wait until next time
For Sunday morning service.

Spiraling Down

Once my heart felt moments of sheer pleasure,
At the very thought of your name.
But now, with each passing moment,
Even your initials bring pain!

Why did I ever look at you that way?
Knowing full well that nothing would come of my thoughts.
Now, every time I see your face,
Sadness, pain, hurt, and anger are wrought.

Just when I think the pain is over,
Here comes another detail in the awful story.
Will it ever cease, will it ever stop?
How long must my heart ache, bleed, and worry?

I am spiraling down a long road that seems to know no end.
My heart hurts and tears are all my eyes can see.
I am spiraling down a long road that I hope doesn't curve to often.
My stomach is empty and my anger has almost consumed me.

I pray each day that this anguish would cease,
But my prayers seem to not be answered.
I cry each night that my heart would be free,
But it seems as if my tears don't hold the answer.


Lord, give me the strength to ride this spiral.
I don't know if it will ever stop.
Lord, help me hold steadfast.
I just hope this spiral down doesn't make my heart drop.

The Spell Is Gone

I was once under your hypnotic spell.
I am no longer hypnotized, but I'm overwhelmed.
Pain replaces dreams, when I think of you.
Bewildered and hurt, what is a girl to do?

Thoughts of you linger, but I only cry.
The biggest thought, why did you have to lie?
It's my own fault, I knew I had no chance.
But for a brief moment, I hoped for a romance.
Some things in my life are remnants of you.
Clearing out those mementos will be hard to do.
I know now that all my dreams were fake.


The spell is gone, it's no longer there.
It's replaced with the heavy heart I wear.
The spell is gone, I wish the pain was too.
Befuddled and wounded, what is a girl to do?

Sometimes I Feel Like Crying

Sometimes I feel like crying,
Because things seem so bad.
The world has gone crazy,
So many people sad.
What can I do to change the world?
And help this pain they feel.
Sometimes I feel like crying,
But there's nothing I can really do.

Sometimes I feel like crying,
Because life seems so tragic.
Here one moment,
Gone the next.
Life is truly fleeting.

Sometimes I feel like crying,
I don't have the friends I want.
Most of the time, no one seems to care.
I give out all of the love.
And no one returns the favor.


I pray for strength to make it through,
That's all that keeps me going.
Gold help me each day, I pray,
For sometimes I feel like crying.

Oh, To Be Romantic

I long to be romantic.
But alas, I can't.
Family stature and my nomenclature won't let me do or be such.
Walking on the beach barefoot
Would be a wondrous delight.
To stare at the fireplace,
Roasting marshmallows through the night.
A long drive into the country.
A picnic by the lake.
Looking up at the clouds.
Making snow angels in snowflakes.

All wonderful romantic treats.

Mr. Preacher Man

He came to our church and joined in the service.
But, it's what happened after church that made me nervous.
You know how mothers can be,
In reality, it's just more work for me.
She invited him over for a meal.
If my look could have killed.
He came to the house, sat and ate.
Why do preachers put so much food on their plates?

We retired to the "good" living room,
With clean carpet and all.
Can't you picture the lovely paintings on the wall?
I had to go to the living room too.
My father's only request,
"Impress the company, act like you have some sense."
The grown-ups talked of many things, unimpressed.
My time could have been better spent.
This man talked a little too much.
On and on,
I wish he'd hush.
The phone rang.
My father had his escape.
Then Mom left the room,
Much to my dismay.

Now what would I have to say to this man?
"Hey, hiya doing?
Can you do the latest dance?"
His start for the conversation...
"What did you get from the sermon?"
I did not have an explanation.
I hadn't paid attention in church.
I guess the consequences for having no answer was his majestic oration.

He stood up, with Bible in hand.
He read a scripture, this preacher man.
The text of his sermon was A Black Man Helped Jesus.
Hey wait a minute, that I didn't know.
He told the story of Simon of Cyrene.
And told how Simon helped our Holy King.
He told how he knew Simon was black.
His answer makes sense now that I think back.

Simon was from Cyrene, a place in the "black belt" of Africa.
His voice got high and he let out an "I, I, I, I, I."
(Ya'll didn't know I could do that did ya?)

He tug at his ear.
He paced the floor.
Preacher man was preaching and that's for sure.
To me, his lone trapped member.
But this sermon I would remember.

He told of how Jesus died on the cross.
So my little soul would not be lost.
He said that Jesus was the propitiation for my sins.
"Just open up your heart and let Him in!"
For some reason I was entranced.
It didn't even seem weird when he did a Holy dance.
He pulled at his tie, he clapped his hands.
Out of my mouth surprisingly came an "Amen."
He drew to a close about two times or four.
BUT he couldn't close without a story, just one more.
He told of African-American triumphs and how God made a way.
He said to remember God in this new day.
He declared that we should be proud of the Easter holiday.
Because a black man helped bear the sins of mankind on this eminent day.
He actually sang a song.
"Because He Lives," melodic, strong.
Did a tear really come from my eye?
Naw, it was a speck of dust that made me cry?


He left the living room and the house.
I went to my room.
I was quiet as a mouse.
I wiped the dust off the Holy Book.
I turned to the scripture I had heard,
To take a look.
At the Bible I stared, "Who was that man?"
I don't know his name,
So, I call him "Mr. Preacher Man."

Morning Song

First morning's song.
Like a fresh, gentle, warm rain.
Dew drops falling all around.

Blue butterfly kisses the blade then flutters by.
Children test the heat of the sun to see who will win.

Walking hand in hand is the lover's morning song.
Grandma whispers softly in the ear of Jesus,
Her request as she prays her morning song.

Zoom, zoom, goes the bus playing its morning song.
Birds fly by.
The sweet baby's cry.
The drag of the trash, bag too heavy for him.
The prattle of the car that won't start.
All sounds of the morning song.


I guess I'll add my melody to the morning song.
Clip, clop, down the stairs.
There goes my MORNING SONG.

Inspiration Behind More Than Words Can Say

More Than Words Can Say

I wrote "More Than Words Can Say" for last year's (2002) pastor's and wife anniversary at my church.  The leader of the Pastor's Aide Board asked me to write something for the anniversary.  I was trying to think of something to say.  I was vacuuming the house and the poem came to me.  So, the line that says, "It all came to me on the other day.  As I vacuumed, I pondered what I could say" is true.  I was going to change that, but I felt lead to leave it in the poem.  It was a good addition.

Everyone loved the poem and thought it was nice.

More Than Words Can Say

It all came to me on the other day.
As I vacuumed, I pondered what I could say.
Anointed, powerful, a man and woman of God.
Those words fit them to a tee, but there are more words that I can say.
Prayerful, consecrated, fired up for the Lord.
We have Godly examples in front of us each day.

Kind compassionate, caring, those words fit for sure.
Loving, tender-hearted, and long suffering, more and more and more.
Confident, strong, and knowledgeable, those words fit too.
Smart, wise, and understanding, always knowing what to do.
I could go on for days and days and days.

Patient, thoughtful, and generous in so many ways.
Words keep coming to mind that paper will never hold.
Handsome, bold, beautiful, the Lord broke the mold.
Fashionable, stylish, sophisticated, debonair.
Somebody call a fashion magazine.

Happy, comical, and jovial,
All the time.
With them around,
There's no time to frown.


You all do so much for us,
More than words can say.
We could never repay you for all that you are to us.
As for now, we will do our best,
Until God gives you, your crowns.

The inspiration behind More Than Words Can Say.

Kitchen Talk

This is another one of my "Life Writing" poems.

On holidays, I always end up in the kitchen.
Pick any holiday you like.
I do it now and I especially did it then.
Thanksgiving, Easter Sunday, or Christmas Eve night.

In there sits Grandma, aunts, cousins, and friends.
But I am usually the youngest one there.
It's better than being in the den,
With loud mouth uncles, whose heads are bare.

"Lord, this kitchen sho' smells good," remarks Aunt Kay.
Collard greens, candied yams, boiling chit'lings, and baking ham.
Escape, Opium, Red, and Old Aunt Mable's Ben Gay.
Peach cobbler, some pecan pie, and the pot of cooking strawberry jam.

There's food in the kitchen, on the shelves, and all over the place.
Fried chicken, rolls, and some spaghetti dish.
Green beans, macaroni and cheese, what I wouldn't give for a taste.
Oh, yea, let's not forget the skillet of frying fish.

But you don't go in the kitchen to taste the food.
You go for the gossip, advice, complaints, and fellowship.
In walks Cousin Buton, he says something rude.
Miss Mattie says something funny to him, that woman's a trip.

Grandma's discussing the state of the world.
Stacy chimes in, "Somebody needs to be beat!"
Aunt Frances shakes her head for the lost boys and girls.
As little Johnny B screams, "When do we eat?"

They show him out and change the theme.
Back to the "good old days," not now, no, Lord, please.
Someone remarks of Dr. King's dream,
And then they start to tease.

"These kids today don't know nutin' about a struggle or a fight!"
"Don't know nutin' about hunger, fear, or life."
"Just know how to cause trouble and watch TV late at night."
"Now come on Grandma, we don't cause that much strife!"

"Child, hush your mouth and sit on down."
Then they all start in on me.
Why must I always suffer because of a few clowns?
So I just sit down and take it, that's the best thing, you see.

The tirade is over and I'm free at last.
Oh, Lord there they go discussing, what else, men.
They remark of men present, men future, and men past.
They call them dogs, heroes, wimps, among other things.

But the mere mention of Rev. Abernathy, joy bring.
"Salt of the earth, pillar of the community."
"Oh how the man has a beautiful voice to sing."
"He ain't handsome, that man is pretty."

They go on and on and on...
They get on my nerves with that man.
Then Aunt Sharon asks me to sing a song.
"Baby, sang "Hold to God's Unchanging Hands.""

I don't want to sing and that's obvious,
So, Grandma breaks into the first verse.
We sing all four verses and the chorus.
Don't tell anybody, but Mrs. Kelly's singing is the worst.

We finish singing, then the sermon begins.
Aunt Sadie, the Missionary, has the remedy.
"Some of these children's souls we need to win!"
"Jesus is the answer, Jesus is the key!"

She goes on with us as her congregation.
"Amen, hallelujah, that's right, gone gurl!!"
We listen, we smile, as she gives her great oration.
"Jesus, the answer for the state of the world!"

In walks Bobby crying, cause he got hit in the eye.
Ms. Mattie wipes away the tear and gives him a kiss.
Grandma says, "Gone outside and don't you cry."
Then she yells something at Trish.

They all look at me,
"Don't you be in no rush to have no kids!"
"Gurl, let them bad tailed boys be."
"You can learn from the things we did."

"Keep your legs closed and your dress down!"
"If you act like a lady, you'll be treated as such."
"Don't get a reputation for running all over town."
"These kids are always in a rush."

"Don't play around with sex, it ain't for little kids."
"When you say no, make sure you mean no."
"Don't let him move into your house, move into his."
"That way if you need to leave, you can just go."

"Getting married entirely too young."
"You can get married when you can't do nothing else."
"Just wait awhile and the right guy will come."
"You don't need a man, you can fend for yourself."

"If he hits you, shoot him!"
Bertha has always got something strange to say.
Although, she should know after being married to Tim.
"Baby, there are other ways."

"She needs to get an education.
So she won't need a man."
That's the advice from Aunt Shun.
She's always willing to lend a helping hand.

"Chile, one big heart break is better than a bunch of little bitty ones."
"If you let a man break your heart once, he'll break it again and again."
"Forget about these tired people, when you need them they usually won't be around."
"If the truth be told, in life you will only have two or three true friends."

Grandma finally speaks up in my defense.
"Ya'll better leave my baby alone.
She ain't like the rest of ya'll, she has sense.
Somebody go tell Harry to get off my phone!"

We have finished talking and the food is all done.
They set the table and bring in the food.
Into the dining room, everyone runs.
Uncle Rev. Johnny Ray says grace and it's all good.

I want to stay and help clean up.
But Grandma tells me to go out and have a little fun.
I pick up my plate and my cup,
Place it in the kitchen and I'm gone.


I go out into the night and give thanks to Lord,
As Sheena and I take a short walk.
Through the window, we can see Uncle Jesse dealing the poker cards.
I must admit I really enjoy all the kitchen talk.

Gentle Spring

Warm day springing a new.
First light, seeing the morning dew.
Silent whisper breathing the gentle rose.
Beautiful scents filling my nose.
Daylight calling me forth to begin my day.
The leaves wave hello telling me what to say.
"Good morning world, here's a gentle spring."


Note:
Before the Gentle Spring, there is a Winter Rain.

Winter Rain

A winter rain so frosty and cold.
A winter rain so soft , so bold.
What makes the winter rain so special?
It's so cold, but it brings about a change.
I appreciate the winter rain.
For when the winter rain is over,

There comes a GentleSpring.

Summer Thoughts

Trees in full bloom,
Bright green in all their glory,
Leaves waving, branches talking
Both telling their winter and spring stories.
Chlorine smells from many pools,
Splashes, giggles, fun, and sun.
Babies and kids goofing around,
Looking cute in swimsuits as they run.

This is as good as summer thoughts get.

Christmas Time One Mo Gine

This is one of my favorite "Life Writing" poems.

It's Christmas time one mo' gine...
Let's celebrate Jesus, tell  a friend.
Come and go with me to a modest house on a street called Calico.
Little kids running outside and Uncle Ufrain answers the door.

The smell of collard greens and candied  yams.
Boiling chitlings and baking ham.
Loud mouth men sitting in front of the T. V.
Papa Joe talking 'bout "Come over here and hug me."

Reluctantly I go,
So he won't call my name no more.
I sit down next to Aunt Dorothy Jean,
To catch a glimpse of the T. V. screen.

"Somebody tell cutin' Kwame to get his big afro up out the way!"
There they go talking about them good old days.
I think I'll go and check up on Aunt Kay.
She's sitting in the "good" living room breaking it down.

If you seek knowledge, she's where it can be found.
She's telling us how we need to stick together.
She's telling us how we can make the world better.
And the knowledge goes on and on.
Who's Big Bertha talking to on the phone?

I step to the kitchen to peep the delightful scene.
There's Mrs. Jones, Aunt Bonnie, Sis. Faye, and Grandma Seriene.
And ya know I can't forget about Aunt Mattie Pace,
Singing that song about God's "Amazing Grace."

We hug and they say come sit down.
Then they ask why do I where a frown.
"There's nothing to do, no one my age.
Just a bunch of kids and old age."

"Child sit your little skinny self down right here.
I got a little secret to tell you my dear."
"In this room sits knowledge and wisdom beyond belief.
Gone on over there and bring me that plate of beef.

You can learn alot from this old age,
About happiness, sadness, grief, and rage.
About poverty, wealth, security, and fame.
About the past, the future, and things to change.

If you take the time to listen as we speak.
You can find the knowledge you seek."
I look away for a minute and smile real big,
"Give Grandma a hug and go get them kids."

I grab a roll and run through the house.
Oh Lord, I think I just saw a mouse.
Then I turn a corner and run outside.
Here comes Michelle and Donnie from their bike ride.

In the house, we sit at the table.
There's a big old smile from Aunt Mable.
A pray from Uncle Rev. Deacon Brother Pastor Paul James Jones sets the dinner off.
"Someone pass the turkey, the dressing, and the green beans.
Tell Little Jerry to watch that cough."

Everyone fills their plates with good food cooked with love and care.
People and family came home from everywhere.
"Save room for some of Sis. Faye's peach cobbler and Mrs. Jones' pecan pie."
One more bite I may just die.

We retire to the den and Stokley begins to play on the ivories.
I sit next to him and we proceed to sing the melodies...
That make faces smile all around,
And I no longer wear that frown.

The talent show is done,
When the last chorus is sung.
We all say goodbye.
We hug and then we cry.

And the day is over, time to go home.
And for the next Christmas long.

Driving down the highway, I pause to think a bit.
I take the time to ponder and reminisce,
About relatives who have passed and gone away.
Who had the misfortune to miss this special day.
Like Great Granny Sue and Uncle Johnny Ray,
And little cutin' Ronnie who was shot while at play.


I turn on the radio and listen to the soulful sounds of Patti LaBelle.
As the Christmas story she melodically tells.
I can't help but smile because I know they're in a much better place.
Filled with God's love and that "Amazing Grace."
I can't wait until next year, cause it will be Christmas one mo gine.
Time to celebrate Jesus and tell a friend.

Been Gone So Long

I've been gone so long,

It's been a disheartening break,

There was nothing I could do.

Now, everything is right,

Everything is straight!

I can do what I need to do, only by the grace of God.

I have what I need to have, only by the grace of God.

Been gone so long,

Just a little too long,


But I sure am glad to be back!

Behind Banker's Talk

I worked at Town and Country Bank in Stephenville, Texas during college.  I wrote Banker's Talk after I watched the people at the bank. 

I showed it to one of the manager's at the bank.  She loved it.  She showed everyone at the bank including the president of the bank.  Everyone at the bank said that they liked the poem.  Everyone kept trying to figure out which person they were in the poem.  It was fun to have people asking me which banker they were.

The manager that I had showed my poem to first, she submitted my poem to the Independent Bankers Association of Texas (IBAT) Magazine.   It was the first thing that I had ever had published.  It was a nice feeling.


Banker's Talk lead to me writing another poem for the bank, And the Banner Still Waves.

Banker's Talk!

Bankers sitting in an office just shooting the breeze.
One playing with a pen, one playing with some keys.
Regulation CC, Regulation DD.
This is a little too difficult for me.

Bank disclosures and interest rates,
Time deposits and business dates,
NOW accounts and proof machines,
Do they appear in Banker's dreams?

Teller machines, computers, and such,
Often times seems a bit too much.
Making money, by making loans.
At 5:00, it's time to go home.

Federal Reserve Boards at Federal Reserve Banks.
For Bankers, Lord, we must give thanks.
Annual percentage yield,
The vault we must shield,

From robbers, crooks, and phoney money.
Can a Banker's life be a little lonely?
Money, mo' money, mo' money, is that enough,
To show the busiest Banker love?

Opening new accounts, money by the bunch.
"How about it, Let's do lunch?"
FDIC insurance and managing profits,
Can the Bankers ever stop it?

The CAMEL asset system of asset evaluation.
New graduates coming from college graduations.
Cashier's checks from closed accounts,
Can really get a Banker down.

Bank examiners disguised as friends.
"Open up the bank and let me in!"
Defaults on loans and bank failures.
can make a person say, "To hell wit' ya!"


I see why Bankers make so much of legal holidays,
Cause BANKER'S TALK can send you to your grave.

Older Blogs

Decided to revive some of my older blogs...

Here's the first one.