As the world passed by in a timepiece within the city of bank notes,
From Broadway to South Street with the economic masters,
From the eastern shores, the night winds sobbed and wildly raved
And earth opened up for former times upon those iron shores.
With worthwhile memories through midday’s pale light, were
Dozens of strong and dauntless men. Such were true men, and rightly over them,
The loud-ringing voice of fame was rolled with the beating of drum rolls.
Crowded in the hour were the Walloons on the Nieu Nederlandt ship,
With insane thirst- these fleeting moments strengthened in the flashbacks
With breathings of soft music, soft as night-dew after eves of storms.
Swifter than a shadow from a storm-tossed cloud came the Buttonwood tree,
Where traders and speculators would gather to trade securities.
When battle was a business at the Buttonwood agreement,
Which led to the New York Stock Exchange with quickening spirits
And mighty impulses that thrilled the heart of man with freedom waking,
From her deathlike trance, blowing the loud trump, grasping the lance.
Toward 1789, when George Washington took the oath of office
On the balcony of Federal Hall, parched by the sun: its scintillating rays
Forcing their way through the jungle closely and deeply.
The mortals dared on foot- their journey’s weary toil for the passing of Bill of Rights,
‘Mid fog, dust and passion in the money capital of America.
There, by the glories of the summer noon came Charles R. Geisst,
As a stern and simple wanderer with the “tug-of-war” between
Business interests and authorities in Washington D.C. in startling contrast.
And time passed by like vapours for the unique personality and institutions
Of Wall Street. Noting the shadowy years and magnifying all;
The pomp of Earth in silenced homage with the heyday at the turn
Of the 20th Century. The concrete splendour of the gilded halls,
Touched with bright hues from the fanciful pen.
Thoughts lingered in a setting of belladonnas and damask roses
For the careers of J.P. Morgan & Company on the street corner,
At the precise center-geographical and metaphorical of Financial America.
Time’s footsteps passed and indeed there was time,
To wonder in the universe swept by Aeolian strings,
That in a minute there was time, to turn back and dance
In this world dominated by professionals on honour-bound quests,
With noon-frequented walks under the small skyscrapers.
Into 1929,where the brooding mass of destruction occurred
At the Stock Market Crash, ushering the Great Depression
-Pealing from the clouds, the arrowy lightning’s gleam.
Glaring on the snow, gilding the livid stream.
When Wall Street paid a heavy price- burn, vanquish, spoil!
But ah! Through smoke, winds and the storm’s wild howl,
Raised the anthem’s voice- “Money never sleeps”,
As the hymn of praise was sung.
Breathing in this fair city, with charming serenity
Like a Tchaikovsky classical piece, where the light
Shone sweetly with these visions and much I mused,
On legends quaint and old: eyes fixated on the genius
Of the place, upon the wondrous laws that regulated.
The fierceness of the bounding elements,
And dazzling brilliance where no gaze rested where
The eye could scan with its fiery flame, rolling on
Into the Reagan Years, marked by a renewal push,
For capitalism- THE AMERICAN DREAM and its vision of delight,
Where passion grasped the steel, adding strength to the empire.
With pure command, lulled in the embrace of evening,
I beamed through the clever air in 1976 when banks
Were allowed to buy and sell stocks in dust divine.
Alas! In that scene in Autumn’s withering gale,
With fitful whispers over the tranced soul,
On each spot of the city under the curtained sky,
-It provided more competition for stockbrokers in this realm.
Could words of whispered adjuration swear,
The shadowy fabrics of each future year,
From the economic scrolls where such mystic symbols
Were written on the poet’s sheets through the misty streets-
Giving life to cordiality, in muted suspense,
Beneath the pale moon’s visionary gleam.
And with the Black Monday drop in Wall Street’s history
When the Stock Market plunged in 1987,
‘Mid the deep silence of the gloomy city,
Sending a cold shiver through the entire financial system,
That overturned coffee-cups and teacups vibrating like earthquakes.
Ah, the mourning of the warriors amid the financial storm,
Leading to the tumble of the European and Asian stock markets.
And all the piercing sounds of battle roared with the Charging Bull,
For aggressive financial optimism and prosperity, head lowered,
Nostrils flared and its wickedly long, sharp horns were ready to gore.
During early 2008, in Wall Street’s troublesome period with dim hope,
I shed the full tear from the conscious eye under the altocumuli castellanus,
In the setting that caused Benjamin Bernanke “to work holidays,
And weekends” that brought about an extraordinary series of moves.
In a web of fanciful thought, at midday with Marmalade toast and herbal tea,
I cogitated profoundly, making a sudden leap into 2010.
Where from Clark’s view, firms were “getting back to their old selves
As engine rooms of wealth, prosperity and excess”.
After the sunsets of puffing flavored cigars, the men discussed
Monetary matters on late visits in conference rooms summoning the
Music of the night, while they made killings in rising shares.
Ah, a world of entrepreneurs, personalities, players and deal-makers with
The strength of Roman legions that survived tempestuous weather
Of hot zephyrs and conflagration.
Ah the drama! Shall I say on this very day, the tycoons inspired my verse,
In this realm with these beats via a great and powerful device.
Krystal Volney is an award-winning West Indian writer who was born on the island of Trinidad. She is Trinidadian-Dominican and is mixed with various ethnicities such as Yoruban, Portuguese, Amerindian (Carib people), French and Egyptian ancestry. She is a descendant of the French philosopher Count Volney. Her favourite novels as a child were the Nancy Drew files, the Babysitter's club and the famous five. She started writing both female and male poetry in categories such as fashion, romance, the environment and children's poetry in the year 2010 (Cosmos and Spheres poetry book- Bestselling Ebook). She views humans as both "monarch and emperor butterflies" because of the transformation from an egg into a butterfly showcasing the metamorphosis as various stages of one's experiences throughout life. She claims that as a result of the prodigious difference between each human being in the global society, experiences differ and some persons mature into butterflies while some remain at a particular stage permanently at various points in their longevity. The contemporary poetess's character is floral. In the 21st century, this means that one consists of many petals and each petal tells a different story of who she is. She sees the "tiger lily" and "hibiscus flowers" as demonstrating what it means to be a woman and a lady. Some of her influences have been Mozart, Van Gogh, Emily Dickinson and Claude Monet. Krystal is also a fellow of the Society for Mathematical Biology with interest in areas of: Bioinformatics, Computational Biology, Molecular Biology, Developmental Biology, Morphology, Ecology, Neurobiology, Population Biology and Systems Biology.