The grocery store
I drove my old blue
Honda CB900F motorbike to town,
took a small backpack along,
as I had to buy some Whiskas cat food,
the ginger coloured Persian likes
the blue marked kind that contains fish.
The small backpack had nothing in it,
was flat on my back,
the store had just opened
and I was in a hurry
to get to the Internet café
before the better computers were taken
by other customers
which would cause me to crawl along
on an old 486 dilapidated model.
In my right hand I carried
my blue Lafê crash helmet
and I was dressed
in a t-shirt and jeans
walked down five rows of shelves
finding nothing else interesting,
saw that the price of a one kilogram packet
of Whiskas had hiked by ten rands,
did not even touch anything in that store
and decided to walk right out,
as the price at the Checkers store
might be lower.
At the exit there were six armed security men
who were talking to each other
with boredom written over their faces
when a sharp alarm went off,
in fractions of seconds they surrounded me,
ripping my backpack from my back
retaining me with hands on my arms
while one searched my body
right there and could find nothing.
One said that it was illegal
to walk into the store
carrying a backpack
and I asked what about
ladies carrying
handbags full of their belongings?
My backpack was empty,
they even took my crash helmet,
to look if something was in the inside
but could find nothing,
force-marched me through the exit
and the alarm went off again.
Their attitudes were somewhat hostile,
but when another customer
left that store, not by a till,
but by that exit
that alarm went off again
and then they realized
that they had a problem
with their security system
and not with me.
I received no apology,
had a crowd of other people looking on
while they treated me with indignity.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
0019 A passing thought
It's a society of rights -
and duties too? Oh, that can wait.
Anyone has the right
to dress up as a black pillar-box
with an anonymous lady inside
or I, I guess, in
the equivalent -
my sex-object status disguised with
hoodie, balaclava helmet
and perhaps a large backpack
with my favourite alarm clock
ticking away inside
wojja mean rights come with duties
poem by Michael Shepherd
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That Last Time
That was the last time
you saw her alive
going into a store
with some guy
you assumed
was her husband
and she looked over at you
as you sat opposite the store
and smiled her smile
like she used to
way back in 62
when it was just
she and you
sitting by the pond
or walking through
the small wood
talking as you used to
with youth on your side
and love hanging on
a chain about your neck
and that was back then
that day you were just
an observer outside
a store watching her
walk by with some other
not knowing Mr Death
was trailing her
even then
that cancer
maybe even as she walked
touching her
with its oily finger
oh how men love and lose
but the great memory
of her will hold
and ever linger.
poem by Terry Collett
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Bargain Store
My life is likened to a bargain store and I may have just what you're looking for
If you don't mind the fact that all the marchandise is used
With a little mending it could be as good as new
Why you take for instance this old broken heart
If you will just replace the missing part
You would be surprised to find how good it really is
Take it and you never wil be sorry that you did
The bargain store is open come inside you can easily afford the price
Love is all you need to purchase all the marchandise
And I can guarantee you'll be completely satisfied
[ guitar ]
Take these old used mem'ries from the past
And these broken dreams and plans that didn't last
I'll trade them for the future I can't use them anymore
I've wasted love but I still have some more
The bargain store is open...
My life is likened to a bargain store...
The bargain store is open come inside the bargain store is open come inside
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inside The Plane Bound For Cebu
it was brief
but just perfect for me
i only touched your
hand
and you smiled
and then i carried my
backpack
and left
on air
like a bird
at night
i feel
so complete
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Silence is Golden
It seems that everywhere I go
pop music strikes me like a blow.
Its not that I’m a philistine.
I find some music is divine.
But I prefer it soft and low
classics are the best I know.
To put me in a mellow mood.
I find loud pop songs rather crude.
But Muzak really gets my goat.
A quiet store would get my vote.
I can browse without background noise.
That wretched Muzak just annoys
me makes me lose my train of thought.
So what I need remains unbought.
I much prefer to do without.
I find the exit and rush out.
Why do the merchants think we need
music til our eardrums bleed.
I think that people would spend more
if they could find a silent store.
The kind of shop our parents knew
where they were pleases to wait on you
and glad to pass the time of day
in the good old fashioned way.
Instead of them expecting you.
To serve yourself and listen to
pop music some computer chose.
The price of progress I suppose.
19-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Groceries
Once again, here in the grocery store line
All the stuff in the basket, is going to be mine
Can I afford this, or should I put it back?
Should I stock up, or carry out a small sack?
I know there are many mouths to feed
Do I buy much, or just what I need?
Sell the horse, and mortgage the farm
Got to buy groceries, sound the alarm
Why does food have to cost so much cash?
Why do groceries have to be my stash?
Here today and gone tomorrow
Fridge left empty, so much sorrow!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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The trip back
The sky is grey
with ominous clouds
that whirls and churns
and there’s thick fog
hanging like a cloak
low over the earth.
The visor of my helmet
is immediately covered
by the impact
of fine drops of rain
and I open it
to be able to see
where I am travelling.
At places I have to leave the road
to clean the lenses
of my glasses
and then the motorbike
again roars with power under me,
but I have only gone a small distance
when the cars come to a halt
and I have to twist through them.
Twenty kilometres further
I come upon the accident
that is blocking the freeway
just where I have to turn off
to Benoni
and blue and red lights
flash through
the fumes of mist.
I turn the throttle open
but at places
the fog banks still hangs low
and mini buss taxis, busses and cars
appear like ghosts in front of me.
At a place a stream flows
strong like a river over the road
and although I lift my feet
and open the throttle more
to give power to the motorbike
a four by four
passes over the middle line
and throws a wall of water
right over me
and if I can get hold of that lunatic
he will surely know it.
The helmet, black leather jacket
and backpack
stops the water,
but my jean
and shoes are soaking wet
and the motorbike eats the road
and somewhat frozen
I drive to get to home,
as if Springs
is just behind the next hillock
poem by Gert Strydom
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0019 Shopping
and as she paused
at the store window
her mind which was rose-gold
that day, poured in a
shining stream out through
her eyes and through the plate-glass
door while the air-conditioned
dark richness of the salon
opened its black velvet arms
to greet her and even the security person
smiled at the star-sparkle in her hopes
and when she’d tried it on she walked
towards the window beckoning him
whom we had not noticed
to come in and take a closer look
honey he said you look just beautiful
how can I look at the price tag when
you look so great in it?
when she came out and he
had melted away into the crowd
as if he had not been
she was carrying wrapped in tissue happiness
the silky slither in a shiny bag
which proved the truth
of what he might have said
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The flags at the Pretoria news hangs limp
The flags at the Pretoria news hangs limp
hangs limp
while I walk to the bus stop
and a man with a straw hat
with a badge on it
carries a backpack
and is armoured with a leather jacket.
His white smoke clouds
curls into the morning air
and a schoolgirl,
gets a cigarette from him
and a small group
smokes with him.
a Air force officer
with a blue penguin cap
on his head
walks past like on every work day
and I wonder why he
has to be so early on his post.
I buy sweets from a street vendor
who also sells newspapers and cigarettes
and I see his fingers
counting sixteen in the cold,
before he replaces his hand
into the pockets of his coat.
The people are already
forming a hell of a long queue,
to catch a bus to Hatfield
and the air is this morning
rather grey than blue
and I wonder why
a young lady
keeps looking at me.
a Bus that looks like the right one,
stops a away at a short distance
where the driver
changes the sign
and it parks at the right place.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Unfinished business (revised)
and so you walk so confidently finding your exit
passing the blue guard looking at you
without any question,
you wish the path is not crowded with people
you wish there is no vehicle at the parking lot
you wish there are no children at the playground
there is no thunder to hit you, you are confident about this
there is no accident, there is no gun,
there are no killers to shoot you now.
you are confident. You still have an unfinished business.
death has no power over you. and so back to line one
yes, you walk confidently, finding not the exit now,
but the entrance to another risk, another threat, another
escape.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Goodwill Store
Im on the edge of my seat
In the soup of my soul
In the center of time
Im in a sentimental role
Youre a stranger of mine
And Im a stranger of yours
But I seen you in the window
At the goodwill store
And I seen you in the window
At the goodwill store
Seen you in the window
At the goodwill store
Honey, open up
You dont need to shut down
Cause were gonna blow the hell
Outta this town
I got these really cool boots
That zip up the side
With a little bit of fur
On the naga hide
And you found a metal
From the vietnam war
And I seen you in the window
At the goodwill store
And I seen you in the window
At the goodwill store
Seen you in the window
At the goodwill store
Honey, open up
You dont need to shut down
Cause were gonna blow the hell
Outta this town
And theres a lutheran lady
With blueish hair
Well show you to the drawer
Of underwear
And Im wondering if
This camera really works
And then I meet your eyes
Near the fifty-cent shirts
And I seen you in the window
At the goodwill store
Seen you in the window
At the goodwill store
Honey, open up
You dont need to shut down
Cause were gonna blow the hell
Outta this town
And you find boxers
With little blue sheep
And I find a tutu
I can finally keep
If weve been here once
You know weve been here before
And I seen you in the window
At the goodwill store
Well wear what you want to
And wear it with pride
Cause its a big, bad, cold, hard
World outside
And when youre burned out
Heart sick and sore
We can sit down on the sofa
At the goodwill store
And I seen you in the window
At the goodwill store
Seen you in the window
At the goodwill store
Honey, open up
You dont need to shut down
Cause were gonna blow the hell
Outta this town
Im on the edge of my seat
In the soup of my soul
In the center of time
Im in a sentimental role
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Exit Brooklyn
When the sun crashes into your world
Look around and you try and find your girl
And youre daring, too sick of what you see
Out of town is the only place to be
When your life starts to run out of juice
Feel like dyin and you just want to get loose
Prayin moves dont make much sense to you
Seeing red before your feeling is blue
Last exit brooklyn....last exit brooklyn
Going back, getting out of this town
Stretch it lean and mean, it turns you around
Take your dreams and stretch them out on the street
Take your turn to get back on your feet
Feel the wheels singin over the ridge
Feel the song like oakland take you
All the time you knew you had the itch
All the girls were glad to see you
Last exit brooklyn....last exit brooklyn
Girl in ol v wont pray
Dont give you a hard time
All the girls from brooklyn say
Last exit brooklyn....last exit brooklyn
Do you remember the day you left the block
Your mama said you would live to regret it
Coming home, coming stoned, come in hope, coming ready
Are you holding steady
Last exit brooklyn....last exit brooklyn....last exit brooklyn
(mccafferty, agnew, charlton, sweet)
1984 fool circle music
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bargain Store
My life is like unto a bargain store
And I may have just what youre lookin for
If you dont mind the fact that all the merchandise is used
But with a little mending it could be as good as new
Why you take for instance this old broken heart
If you will just replace the missing parts
You would be surprised to find how good it really is
Take it and you never will be sorry that you did
The bargain store is open come inside
You can easily afford the price
Love is all you need to purchase all the merchandise
And I will guarantee youll be completely satisfied
Take these old used memories from the past
And these broken dreams and plans that didnt last
Ill trade them for a future, I cant use them anymore
Ive wasted love but I still have some more
The bargain store is open come inside
You can easily afford the price
Love is all you need to purchase all the merchandise
And I can guarantee youll be completely satisfied
My life is like unto a bargain store
And I may have just what youre lookin for
If you dont mind the fact that all the merchandise is used
With a little mendin it could be as good as new
The bargain store is open, come inside
The bargain store is open, come inside
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I ever opened a trampoline store, I don't think I'd call it Trampo-Land, because you might think it was a store for tramps, which is not the impression we are trying to convey with our store. On the other hand, we would not prohibit tramps from browsing, or testing the trampolines, unless a tramp's gyrations seemed to be getting out of control.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What's The World Got In Store
Close your eyes and go to sleep, baby
Take your head off your feet, honey
Cause you've been working hard and I know you're tired
You been tryin' hard not to think I'm a liar
What's the world got in store
What's the world got in store for you
What's the world got in store for you now
Come on baby somehow, I need you
Do I have to show you how, baby
I'm not trying to knock you out, or was it about
I just now you need your rest I can't say what's best for you
You been workin' hard and I know you're tired
I've been tryin' hard not to feel like a liar
What's the world got in store
What's the world got in store for you
What's the world got in store for you now
What's the world got in store
What's the world got in store for you
What's the world got in store for you now
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Candy, Candy, Candy!
You’ve heard the expression many times
About a kid in the candy store
But there’s a place I’ll tell you about
That has every kind of candy and more
The containers of candy go way back
To retro styles of such fun
Candy from your childhood too
You’ll no doubt find every single one
A soda fountain graces the store
Oh my, sure takes me back
Way back when I was a teenager
Yes sir, that’s simply a fact
Cherry red stools to sit upon
As you smile and make your choice
Of delicious enticing concoctions
You just plain want to rejoice
So maybe someday you can be
As lucky as we were to see
A store that’s filled with delicious
Candy, candy, candy!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Home Is Backpack
Home is
backpack
Travel is
feet
Hands and heart
make poetry
I am my own
federal god
(written on October 26,2008 Hanoi City Vietnam)
poem by Chester Maynes
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Raspberry Beret
1 2 1 2 3
Yeah
I was working part time in a five-and-dime
My boss was mr. mcgee
He told me several times that he didnt like my kind
cause I was a bit 2 leisurely
Seems that I was busy doing something close 2 nothing
But different than the day before
Thats when I saw her, ooh, I saw her
She walked in through the out door, out door
She wore a
Raspberry beret
The kind u find in a second hand store
Raspberry beret
And if it was warm she wouldnt wear much more
Raspberry beret
I think I love her
Built like she was
She had the nerve 2 ask me
If I planned 2 do her any harm
So, look here
I put her on the back of my bike
And-a we went riding
Down by old man johnsons farm
I said now, overcast days never turned me on
But something about the clouds and her mixed
She wasnt 2 bright
But I could tell when she kissed me
She knew how 2 get her kicks
She wore a
Raspberry beret
The kind u find in a second hand store
Raspberry beret
And if it was warm she wouldnt wear much more
Raspberry beret
I think I love her
The rain sounds so cool when it hits the barn roof
And the horses wonder who u are
Thunder drowns out what the lightning sees
U feel like a movie star
Listen
They say the first time aint the greatest
But I tell ya
If I had the chance 2 do it all again
I wouldnt change a stroke
cause baby Im the most
With a girl as fine as she was then
(raspberry beret)
The kind u find (the kind u find)
The kind u find (in a second hand store)
Oh no no
(raspberry beret)
(and if it was warm)
Where have all the raspberry women gone? (she wouldnt wear much more)
Yeah (raspberry beret)
I think i... I think i... I think I love her
(raspberry beret)
No no no
No no no (the kind u find)
(in a second hand store)
(raspberry beret)
Tell me
Where have all the raspberry women gone? (and if it was warm she)
(wouldnt wear much more)
(raspberry beret)
I think I love...
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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051310D fishing by wire
i saw a old man dialing a catfish
he has a car battery on his backpack
connected to a long rod and net scoop
it has this beeping sound; zapping fish
they just belly up and ready for picking
he could have enough fries for evening
i saw small ones float and wash away
some recover, some drown to eternity
i stayed away i'm scared of electricity
i remember feelings of being tasered
you become stiff and it does really hurts
i couldn't ask fish but i saw what it does
poem by Manonton Dalan
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Mr. Fish
One day mr. Fish,
was making a pasta dish,
then suddenly he thought,
about what he was taught,
his teacher would always say,
'no fish can go out of the sea anyday'
he shook his head,
then clearly said,
'I will go out of the ocean,
to breathe I'll take a potion'
mr. Fish said farewell,
to his freinds and family aswell,
for safety he bought a whip,
then he set off on his trip,
he made it to the shore,
but he still wanted to do more,
he flopped onto the road,
his backpack was a very big load,
so he started to tire,
then he saw a very big fire,
'aagh' he screamed,
then he dreamed,
that he was back in fishville,
because the fire was burning over his hill,
he went back on the beach,
then there was a loud screech,
mr Fish didn't make it,
because seconds before he was hit,
he died of burn,
all the fish had to learn,
to not go out of the water,
because it would end by being slaughtered.
poem by Svenili Hughes
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