Jonathan ROBIN

Freshman - 746 Points (22 September / London)

Elegy On A London Jobber - Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Around the pristine walls of neon glass
the London jobber posts by pillared cell, -
to take a turn, Old Boy, to buy or sell.
He shares his pitch with others of his class,
and pitches shares while brokers pell-mell pass, -
marks red to buttons blue as green as grass.
Bell rings. He takes the call which spells shell’s knell,
then calls the take, fulfilling function well, -
tied to the Old School system, - silly farce!

Too many heads swell, barter gold for brass.
Though sun still shines, most squander hay - their bell
will toll, and toll-free shall machines excel,
matchless in matching bargains to surpass
those who for short hours, for fat pay, alas,
play both sides of the coin, bulls, bears, harass,
between fear, greed, prey – arbitrage cartel.
Hammered – Fate prepares a fond farewell
for all who take for granted “vie est belle! ”

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Comments about Elegy On A London Jobber by Jonathan ROBIN

  • (11/1/2006 7:35:00 AM)

    Never has this 'humble' profession been thus glorified. Nor have i ever met a broker who could speak this way :) . A very enjoyable read and i think i am going to plagrise the technique of using the apostrophies to make rhymes work. Grosses bises, Masha (Report)Reply

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Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep



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Poem Submitted: Thursday, October 12, 2006

Poem Edited: Saturday, October 16, 2010


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