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Houghton's Bank

HOUGHTON'S BANK

Herd instinct wannabes beg bridge funds, but
Often, spendthrift, find requests for loans
Unsecured denied. Bank makes no bones
Grabbing from those who’d raise themselves from rut,
Hand extended, scored, endures deep cut,
Turns topsy-turvy projects, risk condones,
Obstructing time-vault access with crisp tones,
Neat writing on the wall cites scuttlebutt.
Banking’s a profession where the gut
Active role takes, stakes past winners, drones
Need putting in their place. Prudence postpones
Knackers’ needs, weeds, tightens screw, bolt and nut.
However write-offs rise as profits fall,
Because tight guidelines can’t encompass all.

13 July 1992 revised 2 January 2009
robi03_0581_robi03_0000 ASX_JXX

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Fishing With Dad

-Sitting around watching it snow -
Listening to the cold wind blow -
It's a dark gray day -
Meant for gazing out a frosty window,
At thoughts so far away.
Sit, and enjoy the sound,
Listening to Greg Brown
Sing about ' Fishing With Bill '.......
And for just a moment of sentiment
The rest of the world is serenly still;
As if this song was meant for me
And my childhood memory,
When it seems all I had
And all I wanted
Was fishing with Bill, my dad.
It was the best blessed time,
His, and mine.
Oh to go back again
And be once more, fishing with him.......
- I thank God

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poem by Smoky Hoss
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The Hill

Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom and Charley,
The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter?
All, all, are sleeping on the hill.

One passed in a fever,
One was burned in a mine,
One was killed in a brawl,
One died in a jail,
One fell from a bridge toiling for children and wife—
All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.

Where are Ella, Kate, Mag, Lizzie and Edith,
The tender heart, the simple soul, the loud, the proud, the happy one?—
All, all, are sleeping on the hill.

One died in shameful child-birth,
One of a thwarted love,
One at the hands of a brute in a brothel,
One of a broken pride, in the search for heart’s desire,
One after life in far-away London and Paris

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poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Do what nobody else can do for you. Omit to do anything else.

Henry David Thoreau in Houghton Mifflin
Added by Lucian Velea
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Come to think of it, there are already a million monkeys on a million typewriters, and the Usenet is NOTHING like Shakespeare

quote by Blair Houghton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Supermom

You gave me security
You gave me strength
You gave me hope and the will to live
You are Supermom

You taught me independence
You taught me to be courageous
You taught me to fight for my right
You are the best mentor

You work hard and don't complain
You sacrifice yet never cry
You are fascinating and admirable
You make me want to be better,
You stand out without a doubt

(QC,2010)

poem by Nik Houghton
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Sonnet XIV on A Noble Child, Early Dead

Farewell to thee, thou swift--departed Stranger,
Weary with little stay,--farewell to thee!
There hung a picture in thy nursery
Of the God--boy, who slumbered in the manger,--
And oft I feared, lest Thou should'st meet the danger,
For pride of wealth or lusted empiry,
Of losing that which I so loved to see,
Thy likeness to that picture, lovely Stranger.
Thou hast gone back all pure,--thy every feature
Faithful to what the limner's sacred eye
Pourtrayed the Son of God; most blessed creature!
Thy brow unknit by passion, pain, or scorn,
Thine is the special privilege to have borne
The Cross of Love without the Agony.

poem by Richard Monckton Milnes Houghton
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Grief sat beside the fount of tears

Grief sat beside the fount of tears,
And dipt her garland in it,
While all the paly flowers she wears
Grew fainter every minute.

Joy gamboled by the other side,
In gay and artless guise,
And to her gloomy sister cried,
With laughter in her eyes--

``Oh! prithee leave that stupid task,
That melancholy fountain;
I go in Pleasure's sun to bask,
Or dance up Fancy's mountain.''

``Insolent fooler!--go--beware,''
Said Grief, in moody tone,

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poem by Richard Monckton Milnes Houghton
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Poetry Book - Spider Web

A Choice

Better to lack food
Than to lack truth.
Rather perish in body
Than in soul.
Better to walk naked
Than to walk empty.
Rather be silent
Than to speak falsely.
Better to accomplish nothing
Than to achieve no virtue.

Walk for Shelter

Each of one!
One of each will,
Will walk!

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poem by Erica Borges
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Jesus Walking On The Water

Oh my, oh my, oh my, what if it was true?
And oh my, oh my, oh my, tell me is it true.
Did he, did he, did he die upon that cross?
And did he, did he, did he come back across?
Chorus:
Jesus walking on the water.
Sweet jesus walking in the sky.
Sinking sand, took my hand, raised me up,
And brought me up.
I can hold my head up high.
Will i, will i, will I be true to my birth?
And will i, will i, will I give what Im worth?
Oh yes sir, yes sir, yes sir, I come when you call,
And yes sir, yes sir, yes sir, sweet jesus, my all-in-all.
Gordon gano: vocals, acoustic guitar, fiddle
Brian ritchie: mariachi bass
Victor delorenzo: drums, vocals
Peter balestrieri and cynthia gano; vocals
Christina houghton; autoharp
Produced by mark van hecke

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song performed by Violent Femmes
Added by Lucian Velea
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