Best Emporium Poems
I'm sure this hill is where it stood.
Amazing shapes of stuccoed wood.
A glass-brick, neon stream-lined place.
As if it flew from outer space,
A swing band auditorium,
An Art Deco emporium,
When romance, innocent in pace,
From dancing to a teasing chase.
The town grew west in modern haste
And down it came, without a trace.
The war and culture's change in taste,
Predestined doom, the past erased.
The future sighs, with solemn face
The wrecking ball, the glittered waste
No plaque to read "Historic Sight".
The swirling dust, a dance goodnight.
Gene Bourne
08-01-14
.
Written: October 23, 2023,
_____________________________________
A staunch surrender in a twilight embrace.
My mind is a hammock, swaying in the space.
Dictated dream and lingering shadow.
Petal radiance with an evanescent shallow.
A passion fragrance, an aroma elixir.
A dulcet mellifluous flavor floods flicker
My heart's cynosure, an angelic sanitorium.
With lissome poise, a sublime emporium.
In the depths of my soul, a radiance glows,
Scattering impressions as the wind blows.
Reminisce on the whispers of crumpled stars,
Silently sprinkled across the night's memoirs.
Emollient whispers of a forbidden dance,
Furtive and fleeting, a forbidden glance.
I fear the allure of this elixir spell,
Yet the felicity it brings, I cannot quell.
The flavor of surrender, fraught with desire,
A taste of ecstasy, a blazing fire.
Akin to fugacity, it lingers on my tongue,
A fleeting moment, yet forever young.
Have you met, good old Grandma Goodie, Goodie,
With her gingerbread house of sweets emporium,
Tasty treats unwholesome to eat, but oh in pleasures
Indulgence, she corners the market, the bitter,
To the sweet, with her delicious confectionery delights.
Skip, skip along the forest path of the unknown
Trail, it’s the only way to find this elderly ladies,
Fabled cottage of gumdrops and Lully pops.
Crumbling bread crumbs did you leave behind, a mark to
Follow but the black birds did eat them, piece by tender piece.
So lost you became in the wilderness wild, that you feared never
To escape, from this evergreen forest of nightmares.
Oh brother's grim, did the futures outcome look bleak until you,
Spotted, good old grandma's goodie, goodies emporium sign.
Come in all little children, and dine.
As giant candy canes lined the walk ways
Entrance of honeycomb’s of flavor to savor.
It taw’s late the hour for which you arrived,
But this elderly dame entered with a heart felt
Welcomes deepest desire, come along child
Of man, whatever you most wish will appear by
Your sweet tooth’s command.
She’s just a sweet elderly gran after all,
What harm could there be in excepting her
Hospitality, beware, says the phrase do not
Take candy from strangers comes to mind!
Nibble, nibble on her gingerbread window sill,
And fast asleep shall thee fall, under a witches
Ungodly spell, incantations evil enchantress,
Hidden beneath a grannies disguise of lavender
And white lace.
But illusions fade with the light of day,
And darkness must shed their masks of deception,
Before striking at their intended prey.
Yet modern technology, rings the apps sounding
Bell, awakening me from this childhood story gone
Cannibal!
As I take a deep signs breathe of relief,
My clock radio goes off, and on it is a
Commercial break, advertising a candy shops
Grand opening, just then a chill runs right
Through me freezing my blood to the bone,
Come along the announcer speaks, to Grandma
Goodies emporium of delicious treats,
And I promise you won’t be disappointed
My dear friends and listeners.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
A jug of wine, a book of verse and thou,
Beneath kind trees that spread their green leaves shady
My sheeps heart beats with love and I seek now
A daisy that this sheep may give his lady
I know, though full of love, I'm just a sheep
No one I think realistically supposes
That one like me can voice his love though deep
With fancy flowers like orchids or like roses
Nor does this sheep have much in pounds and pence
To make pretence for more would just be crazy
So I must make the most of sheepish sense
My Valentine shall be a single daisy
And so I trotted to the flower shop
'Excuse me, Mr Flower Man', said I
'Do you, perchance, have ready in your stock,
A daisy that this little sheep can buy?'
The Flower Man, he looked way down at me
His cold frown pierced my wool fleece cruelly deep
'I did not start in business,' muttered he
'To waste time selling common weeds to sheep.'
Again, I fail! It's my memorium
No flower, no leaf, no stem, not even root
By air I left the flower emporium
Propelled aloft by Mr Flowerman's boot
'Tis cruel, the worldly ways I must endure
Oft ridiculed and often wounded sore
But hero-like, my love forever pure
Burns fierce and earnest right through to my core
I hope one day my princess thinks on me
Perhaps she'll sigh; perhaps she'll shed a tear
For one whose woolly dreams could never be
For one she spurned, yet always held her dear.
The chain of LAM'S
a banner clout.
A house of noodles.
A quaint take-out.
An emperor's block.
A staple foods.
With much respect
their employees broods.
A treasured jewel.
A China girl-
to serve them food-
A tilta-whirl.
This geisha Sally
a fine servant.
Her nimble fingers
a wine fervent.
A blossom smile
to serve her suey.
Her sparkle bright
without a phooey.
A lovely maiden
Sally Trac.
A princess running.
A LAM'S serac.
Arc of sure light
Sunrise in a flash;
Emergent horizon
~~~~~~~~~
Street corner commotion
Detour signage shouts;
Road excavation
~~~~~~~~~
Fruit stall vendor
Familiar offerings tempt;
Seasonal fruits
~~~~~~~~~
Emporium crowd
Oriental handicrafts;
Curious array
~~~~~~~~~
Smoky haze pollutes
Grey sunscreen patch;
Coughing episodes
~~~~~~~~~
Hunchback old lady
Sorting paper debris;
Resolute survival
~~~~~~~~~
Sidewalk cobbler
Old uncle attending;
Sick shoes healer
~~~~~~~~~
Esteemed haiku poet lectures
Mindful crowd listen;
Takeaway tips
~~~~~~~~~
Dandelion swirls
Wind-blown ecstasies;
Far away trips
~~~~~~~~~
Nightfall pours darkness
Autumn draft chills;
Late evening complaint
~~~~~~~~~
Evening news highlights
World gone mad;
Violence escalates
~~~~~~~~~
Talk of hard times
Here, there, everywhere;
Cocoon retreat
~~~~~~~~~
Soft tapioca chips
Crispy no more;
Forgotten leftovers
~~~~~~~~~
Orchid garden visit
Flowers in full bloom;
Uncertain choice
~~~~~~~~~
Business as usual
War is big money;
Greedy doom
~~~~~~~~~
Old sepia motifs
Poignant China doll;
Rouge face haunts
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
23 September 2014
Singapore
The Green Silk Dress
Eons back in time, was a tall maiden fair
A long pair of legs and equally long blond hair.
A green silk dress, she once did espy
The colour would pick the green out in her eyes.
Daily she traveled to the emporium so grand,
She gazed in the window from where she did stand.
The dress was a symbol of all her wants and desires
The size correct, the colour perfection, her gaze did not tire
The bus journey she undertook to see this perfect creation
Desperate to try it on, but the thrill was the anticipation.
It called to her soul, day and night she shed tears
Because the dress she knew may only magnify her fears
The low cut neck, on the silk sleeveless floating gown
Would fit and cling, and make many turn around.
Eyes would follow, people would admire
The tall blonde girl in green silk, would set many a man on fire.
The day came when she turned up to look,
The sale was made the receipt in the book.
The dress was now gone from the naked manikin
Hers dreams were gone, though they did not begin…
No silk dress to bring out the colour in her eyes,
No clinging fabric her curves to emphasise.
With the loss of her dress her dream did die too
Returning home sadly, her countenance now blue.
With tears in her eyes, she had turned and left dazed
Never again would she stand there and lovingly gaze.
Life passed her by and her one funny regret
Was never to step though the door, and try in and yet…
It taught her a lesson she was ready to learn...
Regrets are plenty, when for something you yearn
Sometimes one needs to step through that door
It may be the one thing you have been searching for...
It may have turned out that the dress did not fit,
The colour may not have suited, or it pinched a little bit.
But one thing for sure she will now never know
Because she did not have the courage-to give it a go…
© 7/10/2012
My thoughts are caught on a cattle grid
Tractor tyres rumble over my ideas
The farmer's wife's bosom holds all the secrets
To an emporium of scent and voluptuous spheres
The bell rings for dinner and the daylight dimmers
The cows are a lowing and the z's climb for the clouds
It's night time in the Sussex Downs
Writing loosens screws of tightly wound neurosis
into a plethora filled emporium of creatively flowing
psychosis
A prediction for the unforeseeable
the somehow mishaps inescapable
and accidental omen to avoid
the illogical cat's-paw of capricious fate
irregular in it’s certainty
and a trip into oblivion's insecurity
And quick with madness comes within the snag of its trap
a fearful searchlight hunting darkness for an exit
a safety-valve to escape this orderly chaotic
to rape the mundane of it’s blessed intellect
stupidity is the face
indecorously it anticipates, the sporadic
Creating calendars and hours in tempos measurements
an organized emporium of disorganized events
occasionally indeterminate is its recompense
for the all too steady flow of time
the clock springs of the aeon
digitally unwind
With no embrace to harmonize the anarchy
instead the well ordered dystopia of make believe reality
and chaos simply is too simply out of control
and all this life is far too erratically, unpredictable
so save this lunacy, save it from the clown of chance
luck would keep us sane
all ribbons and bows keep it in a well presented box
and if by the enchantments of its chain
save us from the risky cat’s paw of capricious fate
She was half asleep in the auditorium
Finding this new year’s curriculum
Dreadfully burdensome and cumbersome
So altogether utterly drearisome
When all of a sudden she heard beating of a drum
And started feeling audaciously adventuresome
With an incredible urge to visit an aquarium
Or race a shopping cart through an emporium
Or follow Hansel and Gretel’s every crumb
Either way her head was filled with wild delirium
With compulsions not meant to overcome
And hankerings to live life to the maximum
Elude deplorable feelings grum or glum
By keeping cheerful and upbeat consortium
Dance through gardens of chrysanthemum
Or plant fields brimful of sublime red geranium
My heart and soul seeking invigorating equilibrium
Embrace passion in its premium platinum sensorium
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
There is much more to a woman
Than what she can put on show
There is more in the emporium
Than there is in the shop window
Like an expensive Champagne
That a Lambrusco will out fizzle
A woman displaying all her assets
Is invariably all sausage and no sizzle
It’s the homely types that most excite
Hiding their figure neath frumpy dress
Shy and modest to the outside world
It’s the quiet ones who most impress
Beneath sober dress they burn hottest
Much hotter than the most brazen vamp
And when you get them alone they turn
From prim librarian into wanton tramp
The stock of the rifle is hand-selected walnut.
I polish it with a soft cloth and occasionally
use linseed oil.
I dust a porcelain lady
twice a week. She does not need my attention,
but I give it.
My Nikon needs to be taken out of its case,
otherwise it may turn into a blind
coal-black memory.
I pick up a quartz crystal and sigh,
At least once a fortnight.
The sigh does not mean anything
unless you think ‘sighs’ mean anything.
When the black dog returns,
I drive out at night
with no aim or destination.
The 'dog' must be driven somewhere,
and left on the edge of a highway.
I go to the Oriental grocery emporium
each month to therapy-browse.
Sometimes I buy a paste or a sauce
not having a clue how to use them.
Cooking into the unknown
is my space travel.
These things I do are tramlines,
a navigability that gets me back
to a place where I can write a poem
with no black dogs attached -
no one likes a failing sun.
These things I do are rituals
for the safe-side of my mind.
~~
(‘Black-dog’ is a euphemism for depression).
Dilated time extends shuttle to projectile velocity
Accelerated approach shatters tachometer
Forcecul thrust spurs blob star pulp blur galaxies
Taken to religion's reason, infinity honourer
Surveying never discover wonder, God's audacity
Latent edges beckon an awakened explorer
Unbound compounds cast carbon vast possiblity
Timorous molecules amplify into emporium
Glimmer of pierced distance with quicker impulse
Emptying Earth certainty, pours fervid chaos
Ten-dimensional matrix comprises dots illustrious
Strings' swollen muster brings forth obvious
13th December
- DAFT SLIT GETS -
(immaculate)
Written: May 12, 2025, for contest by: Tania Kitchin
*******************
spring arrives shortly
brings emporium of blooms~
earth drapes in bright hues