Page last updated at 18:47 GMT, Thursday, 9 October 2008 19:47 UK

More of your credit crunch poems

BBC News website readers have been marking National Poetry Day by sending in their poems on the credit crunch.

Poetry Day's resident poet, Paul Farley, told us what he thought about poetry marking current events.

Read poet Paul Farley's comments


It seems to me the only Bank
That never seems to fail,
Is that without a fat-cat boss,
That has no "mortgage sale".
It's the one that's run by Grandad,
He's seen it all before,
And when kids need bailing out,
His interest rate is poor.
Unlike the branch bank manager,
He's free most of the time,
A knowing nod, a friendly wink,
No paperwork to sign.
Why can't the banks be run by him?
Simplicity, that's the plot.
He'd know the way to sort it out -
'Just sack the bloody lot'.
Rodger Hallas, Leeds, UK


Crunch is what I like,
Give credit where it's due,
It's only during times like these,
That credit's crunched and can't accrue.
And few can credit how things grew,
Into so big a hullabaloo.
Still, when things calm down,
Give credit where it's due.
I'll put an apple in my lunch,
(the fruit that caused the original Fall) Because I rather like the ... Crunch.
Ruth Waterman, London, UK


Once I built a Castle,
I built it in the air.
Don't know how it stayed up,
And I really didn't care.
The sun was always shining,
And life was really sweet,
All the best of everything,
was laid out at my feet.
But then the sky went darker,
And things were looking grim.
Thunder clouds are gathering,
Oh I wish that I could swim.
It's too late now, the storm has broke,
The roof is falling in.
The extra weight upon the floor,
Has made it all cave in.
Now I'm falling to the ground,
And land with a great thud.
The dream is gone and now I'm Bust,
But the lesson's done me good!
Tony, Derby, UK


I wasn't born to riches,
No silver spoon in sight.
Worked all hours for the minimum wage,
It's really a desperate plight.
Can't be a slinky gigolo,
Can't be a trophy wife.
Married for love not money,
That's how I've spent my life.
Never been very lucky, never won a pot.
Haven't tried the gee-gees, a gambler I am not.
What way is left? I ask myself.
I know! I'll steal some dosh.
But now I see there's none for me,
The bankers have filched the lot.
P Tucker, Woking, UK


A domino has fallen on Wall Street,
Click.. click.. they all tumble over.
Which bank will go today?
Panic buying at low-cost supermarkets,
Mortgages escalating out of control.
A sense of despair hangs over the airports,
As holidays float away on the stock market.
Goodbye to shiny shops and cash machines,
No more loans, tightening belts cut-pricing our dreams.
Sarah Dransfield, Charlbury, UK


I will burn
A hole
In your pocket.
And you will smile
As you continue
To forward the money
Into deceiving hands.
Empty, empty, empty.
The crunch will
Pour you into
a well
of burden, that you
drink from,
and die out.
Of the inability
To stitch back
The hole in
Your pocket.
Alishya, Manama, Bahrain


Hwaet! Harken to this tale of hardship, spindrift spendthrift run aground.
Oarsmen of the good ship Glitnir, clove the waves of the credit ocean.
Lending, spending, sales full-billowed, their furious progress full unchecked.
Premier league and high-street flagships, borough burghers all obliged.
Gold and treasure, lent and borrowed, with no thought of the morrow.
Now blow the icy winds of risk, no more the balmy breeze of easy cash.
Wrecked upon the rocks of reckoning, coffers bare and reputation ruined,
An empty hulk picked by ravens, now held in thraldom to market whim.
Steve Johnson, Guildford, UK


My investments are simply appalling,
And the news everyday is quite galling.
But there's a sunnier frown,
On the face of G Brown,
Even though the FTSE's still falling!
Richard Buxton, Reading, UK


In the 70's my Dad said
See those strikers,
They drag us down with their greed;
We live beyond our means.
In the 80's my Dad said
See that Lady, she'll sort this out,
In the 90's my Dad said,
See that Lady she sorted it out,
In the 00's I said to my son,
See those shoppers; they drag us down with their greed...
Mark Franklin, Derby, UK


The credit crunch is here today,
Who can say when it will go away?
The fat cats take their pound of flesh
And leave us in an awful mess.
For years we’ve spent on plastic cash,
But now we’ve got to give it back.
Responsible banking, the exploded myth,
Market regulation? As if.
And so the chaos now descends, And our salvation now depends
On stepping back from profit and greed,
And return to what we really need.
Satisfaction with our lot,
Against consumables begot.
Rome wasn’t built in a single day,
And we must view our lives that way.
If we keep trying to go one better than Mister Jones,
The credit crunch will chew our bones.
Mark Rotherham, Colchester, UK

More of your poems on the credit crunch

Your poems on the credit crunch
08 Oct 08 |  Have Your Say

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