The Best Things In Life Are Free - Lyndon Queripel

You don’t need me to tell you
Surely I don’t have to explain
Why they call the rich eccentric
And they call the poor insane.

Lyndon Queripel

Retirement - Jenny Hamon

Retirement, oh how absurd
I’m far too young, it's just a word
Although it's just another year
The dreaded date's arrived I fear

Retirement is for the old
Who quietly slip into the mould
Of endless days and aimless ways
Of sitting in a fuddled daze

I'm not that old, you hear me cry
I'm still alive, not ready to die
I can't resign to the mindless doom
Of sitting in God's waiting room

I'll take these days to live life to the full
By taking on the horns of the bull
I have my mind and health and strength
So I'm going to live and spend my wealth

No time to write more poetry
With so much of the world to see
No, I'm not sitting on the fence
I'm spending the kid's inheritance

Jenny Hamon

With Each Broken Pane... The Wealthy Gain - Ian Duquemin

It's not about the broken panes that collapsed within the twisting lanes
It's not the beaches dulling sands or fast receding greener lands
It's not the people born and bred, not even what this poet said!
The problem only came to view
With cash put down by you
It's all about the mess you've made
It's there within the bricks you laid
An island now controlled by wealth
To satisfy yourself
But who am I to speak aloud?
These words are surely not allowed
Yet here they are for all to see
As you look down on me

Ian Duquemin

The Gynaecologist - Tony Bradley

I produce these little babies now,
at a fairly regular rate
there are some very fast productions
others seem to develop late.

Some are sometimes lumbering, large
at the end it's a big relief
others are compact, little cherubs
their production is smooth and brief.

My babies mean a lot to me
there's love and care in all my work
and if it's appreciated, what I do
to me, it's a massive perk.

I think the title of this rhyme confused things
to be honest, I really know it
I wish I earnt a gynaecologist's salary
but I'm just another, . . penniless poet.

Tony Bradley

I'd Sooner Be Poor Than Be Like You! - Ian Duquemin

You look at me as though I don't belong here
But I'm here... And here I will stay!
Your money and expenses could never move me
No matter how much you would pay!
I don't want your money, as I don't have a need
It's the prison you've built and you'll never be freed!
I don't want your wealth... As I'm not into greed
I'd sooner be poor than be like you!

You tell me that I don't deserve to be here
But who the hell do you think you are to say?
To solve all the problems that I can see clear
It's you who should be on your way!
As I'm not the kind of person you ever could use
I don't have a thing so I've nothing to lose!
But I do have a tongue you may have to excuse
I'd sooner be poor than be like you!

You think you are better than I'll ever be
But you are blinded and fooled by your wealth!
It doesn't take money to tantalise me
You can keep every coin for yourself!
As money is something you need in your life!
To buy fancy cars and to purchase a wife
But I don't need to live with all that trouble and strife
I'd sooner be poor than be like you!

Ian Duquemin

The Un-affordable "T" in Diet - Ian Duquemin

He who is richest will strive to get more
Yet it's not so disgraceful to say you are poor!
Money is nothing... And only a lie
It's just extra weight they will lose when they die
They may gain in riches... They will gain in weight
But here's something to chew on... And contem(plate)
The difference between diet and die is a "T"
A simple letter... I'm sure you'll agree
But every penny you have could not buy it
And no matter how rich... You will die-T

Ian Duquemin

Brothers (Grime) - Ian Duquemin

Between the cracks in your high wall
I see the truth, I see it all
Your structure built to hide behind
Might make you hard to find
It keeps the monsters safe at bay
And locks the evil you away
To gain in riches on your isle
A rock not but a mile
In your castle built of greed 
The only god you'll ever need
Will leave you there to die alone
Upon your island home
The winds around you ever rough
The big bad wolf shall huff and puff
And blow your house beneath the waves
Towards your lonely graves

Ian Duquemin