Sea-Shell Shope
She sells those sea shells
Along the sea shore
Cheaper than the sea shells
At the sea-shell store.
It's a shop-keeping nation
In a shop-keeping world.
Shopkeeper, Shopkeeper
What will you do
When all of your neighbors
Are shopkeepers too?
poem by Adeline Foster
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Related quotes
Segue - Algeria Touchshriek
My name is mr. touchshriek
Of touchshriek with mail over and fantasy
My shop sells egg shells off the shesores and empty females
Im thinking of leasing the room above my shop
To a mr. walloff domburg
A reject from the world wide internet
Hes a broken man
Im also a broken man
It would be nice to have company
We could have great conversations
Looking through windows for demons
And watching the young advance in all electric
Some of the houses around here still have
Inhabitants in them
Im not sure if theyre from this country or not
I dont get to speak much to anyone or that sort of thing
If I had another broken name
Oh, I dream of something like that
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Algeria Touchriek
My name is mr. touchshriek
Of touchshriek with mail over and fantasy
My shop sells egg shells off the shesores and empty females
Im thinking of leasing the room above my shop
To a mr. walloff domburg
A reject from the world wide internet
Hes a broken man
Im also a broken man
It would be nice to have company
We could have great conversations
Looking through windows for demons
And watching the young advance in all electric
Some of the houses around here still have inhabitants in them
Im not sure if theyre from this country or not
I dont get to speak much to anyone or that sort of thing
If I had another broken name
Oh, I dream of something like that
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shopping
A shop is of beauty, as a greater building
Of worth and gifts, the plenty of grouping.
We save our money and spend our glory,
The very riding of the vehicle is sorry.
Once the building is complete and complete,
It designed our life as we see fit with our feet.
Us, the customers, shall glorify you,
A shopkeeper is against the very zoo.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Hardware Shop
There's nothing so becomes a man
as a local hardware shop - it expands
the horizons of his home improvement, and
brings harmony to his home life as
those little jobs get done;
and although these days a car-trip
would take you to an out-of-town
with wider variety and lower price,
there is greater delight in detailed chat
with that little man around the corner
who's been there since - oh, you knew his father.
He's got it; or will get it; you chat; come out feeling good;
there's order in the world. Things get done.
But they're a dying breed. We had two - didn't know
just how lucky we were until Mr and Mrs Tidy
(how many Tidy generations of hardware had there been?)
with their two shops run together - he in one, she in the other - and
he identified just what it was you wanted; she
knew just where they kept it - suddenly they went, still sprightly young, to
a well-deserved retirement, after a life of virtue.
They exuded some sort of spiritual strength
between them; as if your purchase had
a hint of allegory in some non-conformist book of life.
Which left the other hardware shop. I hoped
that their departure would encourage his own trade
but it was not to be. The stage set of his shop is perfect -
behind the obligatory front-of-shop basics, put out
each day - camping gas, the bags of dried manure,
plastic bins of every size -
the shop is filled in every nook and cranny, leading to
a further vista of boxed shelves, a hint of aisle on aisle
to joy the DIY-er's heart - and
that faintly oily, metallic, woody, dusty, smell - the precious essence
of a hundred years in that same shop, of visits by
a century of proud home owners, treasuring their addiction..
but this is a man upon whom no tidy destiny, no spiritual path
has fallen. Enter his crammed shop with hope, of the friendly chat
that from the furthest depths, produces just the size
of split boggle ring of finest brass that you were looking for,
and what do you get? Twenty minutes of sad-smiled, patient
explanation of why he hasn't got it; couldn't get it,
because they'd want an order of two dozen. It's only done
in industrial sizes anyway. And the supplier's changed hands
and you'll need to change the whole system to metric.
You should have known - for it was always so:
for this he exists, as if living out a punishment for past sins
against the gods of hardware. Or should you (itching to get away)
join in the sad elegaics for a world in ebb, the small shopkeeper
who existed only to serve his fellow villagers? To talk to him
makes you feel that somehow, somewhere, in the back room
of shared humanity, it just might be - your fault...
At last you get away, empty-handed; and wonder at
this world of little shops and shopkeepers:
the joyous absurdity, the hidden tragedy
of lives you daily knock against, yet never really know.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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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The Video Shop
The local factorys been pulled down
By an overseas corporation
Now all of my brothers are looking around
For alternative occupation
I was sitting by the telly with my brother, kenny
When suddenly the penny dropped
While all of my brothers are sitting at home
Ive got a bank loan and Ive opened up my very own
Video shop
Video shop
At the video shop
I can fly, fly you away
Comedy and tragedy are all sitting on my shelf
And if youve got a fantasy
For a small rental fee
You can set yourself free
At my video shop
At my video shop
At the video shop
I can fly, fly you away
At the video shop
Let me fly, fly you away
From all of the depression in you head
Caused by all the living in the red
Ive got a bootleg version of citizen kane
A second hand copy of psycho
Ive taped them off the telly so you shouldnt complain
And theres no guarantee youll get your money back again
From my video shop
My video shop
If you want to escape, I can rent you a tape
To relieve your situation
If you feel a bit low, I got a good peep show
cos everybody knows almost anything goes
At my video shop
At my video shop
One fifty a day and Ill fly, fly you away
Its nothing to pay to fly far, far away
I can help you through that lonely night
Ive got technicolour, black and white
I can guide you through those empty days
Make you smile and take your blues away
O let me fly you away
At my video shop
Fly, fly you away
Another factorys been knocked down
But nobody ever complains
And all of my brothers are customers now
We all play video games
I can see it in the eyes of all the lonely wives
If theyre bored and they feel like a change
I do sales, rentals, even a swop
And if you feel like a change, well it can all be arranged
At my video shop
At my video shop
At my video shop
At my video shop
Let me fly, fly you away
And everyone who walks in through that door
Has got something that theyre looking for
At my video shop
At my video shop
At the video shop
I can fly, fly you away
At the video shop
Let me fly, fly you away
Oh, at the video shop
Oh, at the video shop
Oh, at the video shop
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loving Fun
Old lady
Age - 65
Old man
Age - 80
Booth are
Begger's...
shop to shop...
Begein
On the road...
shop to shop
They are not
Husband and wife...
They are
Friends
To companian...!
But;
Booth are
Beger's
Enjoy the life
Loving fun...! !
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Down the Sweet Shop
The little corner shop
full of special treats
Chocolate, bottles of Pop,
and jars and jars of sweets.
With pocket money in hand
given to me by my Dad
sometimes a little bit extra
if he heard I'd been a good lad.
I really loved that little shop
it was every young boys dream
you could get everything you'd want
Football Cards, Toys, and Ice-Cream.
My dad used the shop as well
he'd pop in to buy his fags
and Mum did her weekly shop
she'd get me to help her with the bags.
Then along came the big supermarket
the little shop began to lose it's trade
so sadly it had to close it's doors
an end of an era again I'm afraid.
But I'll always remember the little shop
stood there at the bottom of our lane
yes it may have only been small
but it had more style than any supermarket chain!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Keeping My Distance
(jimmy davis/tommy burroughs/don smith)
Im keeping my calandar open
Even if it takes me years
til you figure out what your plan is
You figure out all of your fears
I dont wanna know anything about her
Or what you feel like you have to defend
But Ive seen your situation
And the world she keeps you in
Im keeping my distance
Im keeping my distance
And Ill wait until my time is here
Im keeping my distance
Im keeping my distance
And Ill wait until you make it clear
If you dont want to rush it baby
Well then by all means dont
But Im gonna wait for the day when
When you see that its me you want
I can see, I can tell that you need me
You know that I need you too
So why on earth cant you ever let her go
Will you ever try anything new
Im keeping my distance
Im keeping my distance
And Ill wait until my time is here
Im keeping my distance
Im keeping my distance
And Ill wait until you make it clear
Where will you find the strength
I cant hold you against your will
You keep me at arms length
Im reaching out to hold you still, yeah, yeah, yeah
I can see that you need me
You know that I need you too
So why on earth cant you ever let her go
Will you ever try anything new
Im keeping my distance
Im keeping my distance
And Ill wait until my time is here
Im keeping my distance
Im keeping my distance
song performed by by Martina Mcbride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Breathing of the Ocean
you exhale
then inhale-sucking up your sins and
regrets from your life
washing away the pain you neglected
the shells left on shore are your only
memory of everything
the sand-your companion is always there
for you but never forgets
your insanity when your anger floods
out onto the dunes and rocks
your breathing is no simple matter
the Sun and Gravity controlling
your every move just as an officer
to a prisoner
but you keep forgetting to forget what
you have done and just live
Leave the shells on shore
they are your only memory
poem by Zia Jaycee May Trent
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The little Photoshop of Horrors.
There is a little corner in a sepia coloured shop
that hides a silhouette inside the grain,
A sobbing child is briskly making headway with her mop
as countless customers insist on dragging in the rain.
They only see the shopkeeper, his wares upon the shelves
and hope to see no more than what they need.
Like most, they've no desire to see much farther than themselves.
Like most, they don't associate this blinkered trait with greed.
I scanned this ancient photograph, which I had thought so quaint.
Not knowing, seeing, sensing what it hid.
When lightening the contrast, saw a face, at first so faint.
But sharpening the focus was the worst thing that I did.
You see, two hundred years or so had covered o'er the cracks
that now creep through my family's history.
The chains and shackles on such children, birch scars on their backs.
Some times we don't like what we see, when software solves the mystery.
poem by Hola Mentirosa
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For The Keeping
You can have my heart
It's yours for the keeping
You broke my heart once before
But I'll give it to you again
So you can fix and patch it up
You can have my heart
It's your for the keeping
I was always in love with you
And I think you knew that
You are mine and I am yours
You can have my heart
It's yours for the keeping
It's brusied and scared
It is very fragile
So please don't break it
You can have my heart
It's your for the keeping
It's not much of anything
But you can have it
Cause it's all I have to give
You can have my heart
It's yours for the keeping
Just be careful not to hurt it
Cause it has gone through hell
And it needs to heal
You can have my heart
It's yours for the keeping
Just be careful not to lose it
Cause it has lost you once
And it almost killed it
You can have my heart
It's yours for the keeping
If you don't want it
Then please be gentle and put it down softly
And please don't break it
You can have my heart
It's yours for the keeping
poem by Brandi Young
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Young Nation
[chorus]
Young nation under a groove
Keeping it smooth with a jazz that's so cool
Young nation under a groove keeping it smooth
Young nation under a groove
Keeping it smooth with a jazz that's so cool
Young nation under a groove keeping it smooth
[Verse 1]
As I'm strollin' down the park with really nothing on my mind
Laid back and I'm just thinkin' of old times
Pumpin' our Isley Brothers tape when I'm waxin'
Peepin' through my sapeau checkin' out my waxin'
Hey! I gotta say today's a good day for me the lover on the way
Ho! Time to hit the six-four
And pump the bass and I'm Just a little known
Aaliyah's in the house so I think you'd better check my flow
Hello! Hello!
I'm the young nation and young nation is me
So here we go from the one the two and to the three-ee-ee
[chorus]
[verse 2]
I check my celular because my beepers beepin'
Booty calls are creepin'
Fellas on the corner beepin' me (Wassup
song performed by by Aaliyah from Age Ain't Nothing But A Number
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Songs of the Lathes
The fans and the beltings they roar round me.
The power is shaking the floor round me
Till the lathes pick up their duty and the midnight-shift takes over.
It is good for me to be here!
Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a man that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!
The cranes and the carriers they boom over me,
The bays and the galleries they loom over me,
With their quarter-mile of pillars growing little in the distance--
It is good for me to be here!
The Zeppelins and Gothas they raid over us.
Our lights give warning, and fade over us.
(Seven thousand women keeping quiet in the darkness!)
Oh, it's good for me to be here.
The roofs and the buildings they grow round me,
Eating up the fields I used to know round me;
And the shed that I began in is a sub-inspector's office--
So long have I been here!
I've seen six hundred mornings make our lamps grow dim,
Through the bit that isn't painted round our sky-light rim,
And the sunshine through the window slope according to the seasons,
Twice since I've been here.
The trains on the sidings they call to us
With the hundred thousand blanks that they haul to us;
And we send 'em what we've finished, and they take it where it's wanted,
For that is why we are here!
Man's hate passes as his love will pass.
God made Woman what she always was.
Them that bear the burden they will never grant forgiveness
So long as they are here!
Once I was a woman, but that's by with me.
All I loved and looked for, it must die with me;
But the Lord has left me over for a servant of the Judgment,
And I serve His Judgments here!
Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a son that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Sea-Shells
I gathered shells upon the sand,
Each shell a little perfect thing,
So frail, yet potent to withstand
The mountain-waves' wild buffeting.
Through storms no ship could dare to brave
The little shells float lightly, save
All that they might have lost of fine
Shape and soft colour crystalline.
Yet I amid the world's wild surge
Doubt if my soul can face the strife,
The waves of circumstance that urge
That slight ship on the rocks of life.
O soul, be brave, for He who saves
The frail shell in the giant waves,
Will bring thy puny bark to land
Safe in the hollow of His hand.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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To open a shop is easy -- the hard part is keeping it open.
Hes All Over Me
Chorus:
Hes all over me
And hes keeping me alive
Hes all over me
And hes keeping me alive
Hes all over me
And hes keeping me alive
I know he is keeping me alive
Hes keeping me aliveverse 1
Hes in my hands, hes in my feet
I can hardly keep my seat
Hes in my sprit, in my soul
I will never grow old
Hes in my heart, hes in my mind
Im glad that hes mine
Hes all over me, and hes keeping me alive
I know he is keeping me alive
Hes keeping me alive
Verse 2
Like the hebrew boys, thrown in the fiery furnace
Everybody thought it was over for them
But the lord brought them out on time
Hes the firm foundation
The God of all creation
Theres nothing that he wont do for you
If you trust him hell see you through
Chorus
Repeat verse 2
Chorus
Repeat verse 1
Hes on my right, hes on my left
Hes in my front and back
Hes over me and hes even by my side
Chorus
song performed by by Whitney Houston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As Time Goes By
In our town there were many small shops, one selling
buttons the other socks; and a hardware store should
you need a hammer and nails to hang up a picture of
your mother -in- law, in the living room.
There was also a shop selling scarves, another selling
ladies hats, and a third one, quite posh, selling suits and
ties. I mustn’t forget the shoe shop, leather footwear
black or brown and white tennis shoes.
In our street of trade most shops have shut, those still
open are run by the Orientals where you can buy all
you need for a very small price. If your shoes wear out,
no point going to the old cobbler, buy Chinese instead.
Red lanterns sway in the fiscal breeze of decline where
wistfulness has no price tag. But you must remember
this, a shop is just a shop, yet, for us sentimental fools,
are remembered as a sweet memory of times gone by,
poem by Oskar Hansen
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You Are Too Smart For Me
You are too smart for me
Lady
When you shop
Because when you shop you shop for the bargains
And
I can see that you love bargains
poem by Aldo Kraas
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