Friday Night Shopping
I went to do the shopping at the Supermarket Store
Couldn't find a trolley - so hunted round some more:
I dashed around the car park searching every trolley bay
And at last, with the one with the wonky wheel, I was on my way!
Inevitably, I met someone I'd not seen for a while
So we parked our trolleys in the middle of the aisle
Just to make shopping that bit harder for everybody else
Isn't it a pain when everyone just thinks of self/
We had a conversation about this and that
I was really pleased to see her and enjoyed our chat.
Eventually I reached the checkouts where the fun begins'
To search for the "right queue" and start unloading all my tins.
In front of me was a lady, quite mature.
She'd be quick, I was absolutely sure.
Then her cash could not be found amongst papers and all kinds of dockets
In one of those wretched handbags with about fifteen pockets.
I was glad to leave that store - I'd finished work at five - got home at seven
Sat down with a cuppa' which was pure magic, just sheer heaven!
poem by Jackie Holland
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The Shopping Trolley Man
Every day for eight hours or maybe more
He walks up and down through the car park by the big food store
On the lookout for unreturned shopping trolleys for each one he returns a dollar is his pay
The most he might earn would be thirty dollars a day.
An ageing man of three score and ten maybe
By the big food store he is one you always see
To supplement his pension the unreturned trolleys he takes back
Despite his age in the will to work he does not lack.
His given name i do believe is Stan
But all of the locals know him as 'the shopping trolley man'
Tall and slightly stooped with gray beard and silver hair
Out of what he does he will never become a millionaire.
For the effort he puts in so little is his gain
He is there every day in sunshine or in rain
Yet one might say he's a hardy old boy
And what he does he does seem to enjoy.
To his toilsome task he remains ever true
And credit him since credit he is due
For each unreturned trolley he returns a dollar he is paid
Than this there's easier money by far to be made.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Shopping Trolley
I am a shopping trolley.
I am hooked on pushers
They strip the shelves like locusts.
Bikers zoom me round with granite fists
Pensioners slump over me like caterpillars
Babies are dumped in me like pupae
I whizz through plastic jungles of bananas
To the surprisingly friendly cackle of plastic hens
I am a shopping trolley I am heavily into Zen.
I am a metal meditator
One day I may levitate
Over the drinks aisle
Frightening the alkies.
I am a water carrier,
This bottle on my spars
Contains the following:
(Please read before swallowing)
Calcium quinine magnesium
Chloride sodium potassium
Sulphate nitrate
If you've a dicky prostate
Avoid this mineral water at all costs.
It harbours aluminium and iron
The ideal drink for
Thirsty horse shoes
Parched park railings
Dehydrated nests of non-stick pans
poem by Sheena Blackhall
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Last Minute Christmas Shopping
Just a few more days left, to get in
the last minute Christmas shopping!
You'll be running around like crazy, as
into each store, you'll be popping! With
list in hand, you start to look, to find what's
marked by each name. Hoping, you'll find
what you had in mind and if you don't,
there's no one, you can blame. It's really
not smart when you leave it to the last
minute, for when you do, it's harder on you
for you put so much energy, into it. Last
minute shopping, is the hardest thing to
do, it can leave you tired and run down.
Next year be smart, get a head start, so
you won't have to run, all over town. Now, it's
time to be on your way, as you accomplished
what you came for. Everything is complete,
despite your aching feet, but when you get
home, you'll kick off your shoes and watch,
them, fall to the floor!
poem by Audrey Heller
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Longing For Childhood
I saw an elderly man in the supermarket
Moving fast and smoothly, his aim was to get to the end of the aisle
I took a closer look, he had such style
He rode that trolley with such glee
Everyone stood back to see
I wondered what was going through his head
Maybe next moment he was being put to bed
To reminisce of days long gone
Must be as sweet as a good song
As he grins from ear to ear
And the shoppers all clap and cheer
I hoped that trolley could stand the strain
A he didn't look as if he could survive any pain.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Greedy Richard
"I think I want some pies this morning,"
Said Dick, stretching himself and yawning;
So down he threw his slate and books,
And saunter'd to the pastry-cook's.
And there he cast his greedy eyes
Round on the jellies and the pies,
So to select, with anxious care,
The very nicest that was there.
At last the point was thus decided:
As his opinion was divided
'Twixt pie and jelly, being loth
Either to leave, he took them both.
Now Richard never could be pleased
To stop when hunger was appeased,
But would go on to eat still more
When he had had an ample store.
"No, not another now," said Dick;
"Dear me, I feel extremely sick:
I cannot even eat this bit;
I wish I had not tasted it. "
Then slowing rising from his seat,
He threw his cheesecake in the street,
And left the tempting pastry-cook's
With very discontented looks.
Just then a man with wooden leg
Met Dick, and held his hat to beg;
And while he told his mournful case,
Look'd at him with imploring face.
Dick, wishing to relieve his pain,
His pockets search'd, but search'd in vain;
And so at last he did declare,
He had not left a farthing there.
The beggar turn'd with face of grief,
And look of patient unbelief,
While Richard now his folly blamed,
And felt both sorry and ashamed.
"I wish," said he (but wishing's vain),
"I had my money back again,
And had not spent my last, to pay
For what I only threw away.
"Another time, I'll take advice,
And not buy things because they're nice;
But rather save my little store,
To give to those who want it more."
poem by Jane Taylor
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Shopping
Were buying and selling your history
How we go about it is no mystery
We check it with the city, then change the law
Are you looking forward?
Now you want some more
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Its easy when you got all the information
Inside help, no investigation
(no investigation, investigation)
No questions in the house, no give and take
Theres a big bang in the city
Were all on the make
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Our gain is your loss, thats the price you pay
I heard it in the house of commons: everythings for sale
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
(were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping)
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Thorough And Complete Irrigation
Just how stagnant, backed up and polluted,
Is the thinking in those country?
'One conversation.
That's all anyone will need,
To determind there has never been a flow...
Ongoing to flush out the rust.
It's all there...
Plugged up with stuff like raw sewage.
Kept to recycle in their minds.'
What can be done to undo this with a solution?
'A thorough and complete irrigation.'
And...
If that should fail?
'Well...
No one can make happen,
What time has already given to then pass on...
Has allowed.'
What do you mean by that?
'Trolley cars use to run up and down these streets.
Many years ago.'
And your point is?
Go over there,
And tell anyone standing...
You wish to wait for the next trolley to come.
And ask where you should wait.
Someone will then ask...
'Are the trolleys still running?
I thought they replaced those with buses? '
So what are you saying?
They are a little bit slow?
'That's a very good question.
Go over there and ask them.
I am sure they will let you know...
Just how slow.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fly Jeans
You say can we go shopping
For what is my reply
some new jeans that my friend just bought
They make her look so fly
I say lets go, do you know the store
And please don't make me choose
Before we go I'm telling you we're not shopping for shoes
I take a slow, long deep breath
As we walk in the store
Dam your friend has rich tastes
My wallet's felt this pain before
You squeeze into the fly jeans
As you turn around and say
Does my bum look big in these babe
Now I should run away
Does my bum look big in these babe
Once again I hear you ask
No it don't my darling
It's the fat around your ass
The ABC
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
poem by Spike Milligan
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Ode to Shoppers Everywhere
Shopping's a pleasure
Says the local ad
To ensure
That in parting with your cash – you'll be glad.
So it was the other day
When I was picking my way
Amongst the bags and cans
And jars of assorted brands
That I looked up to see
Coming straight for me
A lady (that's what we call them)
Riding a motorized shopping pram.
So intent was she
That I hardly had time to flee
Escape was what I intended
Otherwise my life would have surely ended
For not only was she intent on shopping pleasures
But had in tow a full size cart to hold her treasures.
With items heaped high.
There was surely no sense of others nearby
Intent and passionately she came on
Taking only a moment to select and then was gone.
Gone was she to regions of the store,
I know not where, or wanted any more
Of the terrors that perhaps lurk
Around every twist and turn
So I hastened to the check out
Forgetting what other items I was without
Glad to seek the safety of the street
Where with cars and trucks I'll gladly compete.
s
poem by Sidi J. Mahtrow
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A Domestic Tragedy
Clorinda met me on the way
As I came from the train;
Her face was anything but gay,
In fact, suggested pain.
"Oh hubby, hubby dear!" she cried,
"I've awful news to tell. . . ."
"What is it, darling?" I replied;
"Your mother -- is she well?"
"Oh no! oh no! it is not that,
It's something else," she wailed,
My heart was beating pit-a-pat,
My ruddy visage paled.
Like lightning flash in heaven's dome
The fear within me woke:
"Don't say," I cried, "our little home
Has all gone up in smoke!"
She shook her head. Oh, swift I clasped
And held her to my breast;
"The children! Tell me quick," I gasped,
"Believe me, it is best."
Then, then she spoke; 'mid sobs I caught
These words of woe divine:
"It's coo-coo-cook has gone and bought
A new hat just like mine."
poem by Robert William Service
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In flanders
Through sleet and fogs to the saline bogs
Where the herring fish meanders,
An army sped, and then, 't is said,
Swore terribly in Flanders:
"--------!"
"--------!"
A hideous store of oaths they swore,
Did the army over in Flanders!
At this distant day we're unable to say
What so aroused their danders;
But it's doubtless the case, to their lasting disgrace,
That the army swore in Flanders:
"--------!"
"--------!"
And many more such oaths they swore,
Did that impious horde in Flanders!
Some folks contend that these oaths without end
Began among the commanders,
That, taking this cue, the subordinates, too,
Swore terribly in Flanders:
Twas "------------!"
"--------"
Why, the air was blue with the hullaballoo
Of those wicked men in Flanders!
But some suppose that the trouble arose
With a certain Corporal Sanders,
Who sought to abuse the wooden shoes
That the natives wore in Flanders.
Saying: "--------!"
"--------"
What marvel then, that the other men
Felt encouraged to swear in Flanders!
At any rate, as I grieve to state,
Since these soldiers vented their danders
Conjectures obtain that for language profane
There is no such place as Flanders.
"--------"
"--------"
This is the kind of talk you'll find
If ever you go to Flanders.
How wretched is he, wherever he be,
That unto this habit panders!
And how glad am I that my interests lie
In Chicago, and not in Flanders!
"----------------!"
"----------------!"
Would never go down in this circumspect town
However it might in Flanders.
poem by Eugene Field
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A Strange Wild Song
He thought he saw an Elephant
That practised on a fife:
He looked again, and found it was
A letter from his wife.
"At length I realize," he said,
"The bitterness of life!"
He thought he saw a Buffalo
Upon the chimney-piece:
He looked again, and found it was
His Sister's Husband's Niece.
"Unless you leave this house," he said,
"I'll send for the police!"
he thought he saw a Rattlesnake
That questioned him in Greek:
He looked again, and found it was
The Middle of Next Week.
"The one thing I regret," he said,
"Is that it cannot speak!"
He thought he saw a Banker's Clerk
Descending from the bus:
He looked again, and found it was
A Hippopotamus.
"If this should stay to dine," he said,
"There won't be much for us!"
He thought he saw a Kangaroo
That worked a Coffee-mill:
He looked again, and found it was
A Vegetable-Pill.
"Were I to swallow this," he said,
"I should be very ill!"
He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four
That stood beside his bed:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bear without a Head.
"Poor thing," he said, "poor silly thing!
It's waiting to be fed!"
poem by Lewis Carroll
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Shop, she shops!
Once she constantly smiled
Bought cloths and jewelry that gave her style
Shop, shop, shop
She shopped till she dropped
Shop, shop, shop
She just could not seem to stop
Her credit was on top
Her spending way rocket up
She paid with cash or credit card
This Lady was absolutely shopping mad
Shoping malls!
Markets stalls!
Shoes, clothing, and handbags she bought all year long
Spend, spend and spend daily was her beloved song
Shop, shop, shop
She now shops like a flop
Shop, shop, shop
This lady has now put a stop
Today is different shopping expedition
This time spending with supervision
No more that crazy spending addiction
Her credit card is cut
Her goods seized, the whole lot
Today she spends, her pockets hurt!
She has become street wise
Haggling with each price
She has become precise
About what she needs and not what is nice
Shop, shop, shop
She shops like a flop
Shop, shop, shop
Her spending has taken a big drop!
This lady has now put a stop to shop!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Lead "me" to "me
What is this place?
Where have I reached?
I stand infront
The mirror,
As a stranger
Stares back at me.
Do I know her?
Have we met before?
Why do I see in her traces of' me'?
Or is this…
The new ‘me"?
Do I like her?
Brazen she stands…
Her hair wind swept,
Her eyes, wild
No longer windows
To the divinity of her soul.
But her smile has
Traces of "me".
That strange
Devil in "me".
As I shudder in peril,
Where have I reached?
Its miles and miles of mist,
Paths untread,
Lonely beings.
But…
Its this mysterious "me"
Which terrifies my soul.
Did I ever want to be
"her"?
Do I have a choice?
Is it too late to decide,
Revert, run back?
Where did I lose the "me"
I was so proud about?
Pray, give me your magic hand
Do lead "me to"me"…
For without "you" holding "me"
I remain not even "me"
Daddy…
your little 'ai'is all lost
Please lead "me" to "me"….
poem by Anjali Kakati
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Opifex
As I was carving images from clouds,
And tinting them with soft ethereal dyes
Pressed from the pulp of dreams, one comes, and cries:--
"Forbear!" and all my heaven with gloom enshrouds.
"Forbear!" Thou hast no tools wherewith to essay
The delicate waves of that elusive grain:
Wouldst have due recompense of vulgar pain?
The potter's wheel for thee, and some coarse clay!
"So work, if work thou must, O humbly skilled!
Thou hast not known the Master; in thy soul
His spirit moves not with a sweet control;
Thou art outside, and art not of the guild."
Thereat I rose, and from his presence passed,
But, going, murmured:--"To the God above,
Who holds my heart, and knows its store of love,
I turn from thee, thou proud iconoclast."
Then on the shore God stooped to me, and said:--
"He spake the truth: even so the springs are set
That move thy life, nor will they suffer let,
Nor change their scope; else, living, thou wert dead.
"This is thy life: indulge its natural flow,
And carve these forms. They yet may find a place
On shelves for them reserved. In any case,
I bid thee carve them, knowing what I know."
poem by Thomas Edward Brown
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The Vulture and the Husbandman
By Louisa CarolineN.B. -- A Vulture is a rapacious and obscene bird, whichdestroys its prey by plucking it limb from limb with its powerfulbeak and talons.A Husbandman is a man in a low position of life, who supportshimself by the use of the plough. -- (Johnson's Dictionary).
The rain was raining cheerfully,
As if it had been May;
The Senate-House appeared inside
Unusually gay;
And this was strange, because it was
A Viva-voce day.
The men were sitting sulkily,
Their paper work was done;
They wanted much to go away
To ride or row or run;
"It's very rude," they said, "to keep
Us here, and spoil our fun."
The papers they had finished lay
In piles of blue and white.
They answered every thing they could,
And wrote with all their might,
But, though they wrote it all by rote,
They did not write it right.
The Vulture and the Husbandman
Beside these piles did stand,
They wept like anything to see
The work they had in hand.
"If this were only finished up,"
Said they, "it would be grand!"
"If seven D's or seven C's
We give to all the crowd,
Do you suppose," the Vulture said,
"That we could get them ploughed?"
"I think so," said the Husbandman,
"But pray don't talk so loud."
"O undergraduates, come up,"
The Vulture did beseech,
"And let us see if you can learn
As well as we can teach;
We cannot do with more than two
To have a word with each."
Two Undergraduates came up,
And slowly took a seat,
They knit their brows, and bit their thumbs,
As if they found them sweet,
And this was odd, because you know
Thumbs are not good to eat.
"The time has come," the Vulture said,
"To talk of many things,
Of Accidence and Adjectives,
And names of Jewish kings,
How many notes a sackbut has,
And whether shawms have strings."
"Please, Sir," the Undergraduates said,
Turning a little blue,
"We did not know that was the sort
Of thing we had to do."
"We thank you much," the Vulture said,
"Send up another two."
Two more came up, and then two more,
And more, and more and more;
And some looked upwards at the roof,
Some down upon the floor,
But none were any wiser than
The pair that went before.
"I weep for you," the Vulture said,
"I deeply sympathise!"
With sobs and tears he gave them all
D's of the largest size,
While at the Husbandman he winked
One of his streaming eyes.
"I think," observed the Husbandman,
"We're getting on too quick.
Are we not putting down the D's
A little bit too thick?"
The Vulture said with much disgust
"Their answers make me sick."
"Now, Undergraduates," he cried,
Our fun is nearly done,
"Will anybody else come up?"
But answer came there none;
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd ploughed them every one!
poem by Arthur Clement Hilton
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Sonnet V: Nothing But No
Nothing but "No," and "Aye," and "Aye," and "No"?
How falls it out so strangely you reply?
I tell ye, Fair, I'll not be answer'd so,
With this affirming "No," denying "Aye."
I say, "I love," you slightly answer "Aye";
I say, "You love," you pule me out a "No";
I say, "I die," you echo me an "Aye";
"Save me," I cry, you sigh me out a "No";
Must woe and I have nought but "No" and "Aye"?
No I am I, if I no more can have;
Answer no more, with silence make reply,
And let me take myself what I do crave.
Let "No" and "Aye" with I and you be so;
Then answer "No," and "Aye," and "Aye" and "No."
poem by Michael Drayton
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Shopping Without Edgar Allan
We will always shopping go
Without Edgar Allan Poe.
We go shopping, hopping, hopping,
From this store to that.
Edgar Allan was a Poe
Who never ever had to go
Shopping.
O.K., and so perhaps I lied,
And so perhaps his lovely bride,
Annabelle Lee and he
Went shopping, like
The rest of us.
poem by Fred Babbin
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Lucindy Jane
When I was young I was too proud
To wheel my daughter in her pram.
"It's infra dig," I said aloud,--
Bot now I'm old, behold I am
Perambulating up and down
Grand-daughter through the town.
And when I come into the Square,
Beside the fountain I will stop;
And as to rest I linger there,
The dames will say: "How do, Grand-pop!
Lucindy Jane with eyes so blue
Looks more and more like you."
And sure it's pleased as Punch I get,
And take Lucindy on my knee;
Aye, at the risk of getting wet,
I blether to the girls a wee:
Then as we have a bottle date
Home we perambulate.
Gosh! That's the joy of all my day;
And as I play the part of nurse:
"She's got your nose," I hear them say.
Thinks I: "Well now, she might have worse."
And how I dream I'll live to see
A great-grandchild upon my knee,
Whom folks say looks like me!
poem by Robert William Service
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