Spend wisely the

Currency known as passion

For there are

No snips to be had

You get what you pay for

With affairs of the heart


Too rare to be

At the mercy of

Greedy traders

Pulling strings

Force feeding or

Bloodletting of

Precious metals

Commodities and

Foreign Exchange

Tawdry things them all


There is no requirement

For the currency of passion

Hard or soft

In any financial

Market place


To her cost and

Insecure, she went

Out of her way

To be noticed

Best she could anyhow

He, the target of her fascination

One immune to allusion


In the privacy of a single room

She spat feathers at her folly

Spat feathers habitually



To his impairment

A man blind to anything

That was not a conclusion

A man easily noticed yet

Unaware that this was so


They neither spoke nor touched

Nor even properly met

Destitute his vision

Discretion her weakness


At least

No currency changed hands

Respective assets intact

Save for adjustments

Here and there

On the whole

A lesson learned

Is, some would say

An annuity realized



    1. Well that’s not very romantic young Marissa! There’s me knocking out a swift poem touching upon the sensitivity of passion only for you to chuck a few home truths my way! Having said that if it was an actual currency can’t see anyone paying that much for me now I’m 108 years old!

      1. I know, I’m sorry. It’s the cynic in me. If it makes you feel any better, I am often tempted to do things like that with many bloggers…you know, I read a sensitive blog and I am tempted to say something cynical and sarcastic. You are one of the few bloggers I will actually do that with because I know you can take the joke.

      2. Only this very afternoon my wife called me a sarcastic bastard no less! Can you believe it….me of all people! All I did was to make mention of the fact that whilst my clothes were ironed my socks were not! Pride in the task – still better than last time when she beat me around the head with a rolled up newspaper.

      3. You need your socks to be ironed?? Good God man! Once they are on your feet they pretty much straighten out on their own, don’t they? I don’t know about the sarcasm, but I’d say a beat around the head doesn’t sound too bad to me.

      4. I have 35 pairs (true) of the weirdest socks imaginable (true). Cost a pretty penny as well. Is it too much, is it really too much to expect one’s spouse to iron them…and what does she do. I’ll tell you what…never once in 78 years of marriage has she ironed a single pair! Where is the fairness in that…I mean when the decorating needs attending to I pop off to the shops and buy her paint and brushes; even sit in a comfy chair giving her handy tips when she’s up the ladder painting the ceiling…she couldn’t ask for a better man in my book!

    1. I just read your latest post – similar in the fact it addresses a life lesson. I wouldn’t say you are overdrawn in part or at all. The phrase ‘a truly remarkable piece’ is yours Paul not mine. That one of yours an absolute gem. In fact anyone reading this comment who doesn’t yet follow you do take a look and see a master at work!

  1. Much is said here in your words of the prostitute grabbing one’s wealth away. Many metaphors written between the lines regarding addictions sucking the life away from others through wares of currency. Terrific poem!

    1. I can but thank you for these kind words. I must admit I wrote this 3 weeks ago yet wasn’t sure if it worked. You have now convinced me it likely does. Thanks again, The Old Fool.

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