Best Grocers Poems
A PROSPECTIVE.
A POSTAL EMPLOYEE IS LICKED.
A GROCERS IS FRESH.
A FIRE FIGHTER IS PUT OUT.
A TEACHER IS LEARNED.
A WINE IS BOTTLED UP.
A MAILER IS SENT OUT.
A FISHERMAN IS FISHY.
A MASON IS BRICKED.
A CAR IS TIRED.
A DOG IS BONED.
A CAT IS MOUSEY.
A BOY IS PLAY.
A GIRL IS FANCY STUFF.
A MAN IS STRONG.
A WOMAN IS LOVE.
Categories:
grocers, allegory, silly,
Form:
A very loyal woman was Miep Jan Gies,
Brave, caring, and really very wise -
She was confident and daring - On her some lives depended
Now, following her story, so many minds have mended.
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Considering the worsening situation for the Jews, the Franks decided to go into hiding in the secret annex of their office building. Miep gladly agreed to be a helper, bringing them food that she would gather from different grocers with ration cards.
She and her co-workers were able to keep the family hidden for over two years, but eventually they were betrayed. The annex was raided by the Nazis on August 4, 1944, and the occupants were sent to concentration camps. Miep found Anne Frank's diary and put it away for the family's return.
She was a great source of hope and motivation for the Franks; they couldn’t have lasted long without Miep’s help.
Categories:
grocers, betrayal, care, change, character,
Form:
Clerihew
Innocents tremble in terrible terror
witnessing mankind’s deluge of errors.
Violence grows as a sure hate spreader,
intent on humanities' ultimate sever.
A barrage of plastic politicians with greedy minds
focus on leaving justice long lost and behind.
Modern media’s constant torrent of drama
drags good people down inside insipid trauma.
Landlords, bankers, grocers and their names
Disappeared behind campaigns for corporate gain.
Focused on leaving all people monetarily lame,
Corporations score God second to financial gain.
The world has grown unrecognizable.
Universal fairness may never know arrival.
Stupidity and apathy diseases worldwide spiral
as brotherhood, religion and ethics lose disciples.
Categories:
grocers, change, conflict, culture, fear,
Form:
Rhyme
I often wonder slightly,
as I close the fridge door nightly,
is there more to know about produce,
so innocent next to juice?
Does the mayo fight the milk jug?
Does the ketchup dance out on the rug?
I swear I hear it faintly,
from the kitchen floors below!
Are the leftover pizza slices,
charging outrageous ticket prices,
to a vaudeville pickle show?
But everytime I creep,
to see what company bagels keep,
my eyes can only see,
silent eggs,
a quiet scone,
and a dormant block of provolone!
Hmmmm...
I'll get the tea pot to tell it all to me...
Categories:
grocers, fantasy, humor,
Form:
Couplet
Saddle your horse and get ready for the ride; this will be your final day before you take off to the sky, the weather is too dry over here and we have nothing more to share; I have to reserve what I have for the others living over there.
Come and stir the pot with me and walk with me through hills and valleys, we will survey the vast landscape, lofty mountains and fine river bed. You will observe where the skyline meets with the earth and where the river is washing away the dirt, and then you will understand what I have been telling you all along.
Saddle your horse and come with me, I will take you through the route that leads to the top of the mountain and you will see the optical phenomenon that is baked beneath the earth giving rise to a meteorological vision.
I can see streams of light parachuting from the earth , carving out a circular spectrum in the sky with multi-colored dyes spreading all over the sky. It meets with steep slopes interfacing the earth and refracting around the slopes.
Saddle your horse and come with me, I will take you to the corner store
And show you why poor people are always asking for more. The cost of goods and service are real and grocers have to work out their own deal, a pint of oil is sold in plastic bags and thin slice of cheese is all that they have. The backs of chicken makes good curry and the necks of turkey is poor people’s luxury.
Saddle your horse and come with me and let me show you what life is like in the inner city. They are running up and down the street with guns shooting at one another for fun, the Don Man rides in with his motorcade and flick a sharp blade. He cut the box open and shower gifts to the whole community.
Saddle your horse and come with me, we will ride to the other side and you must tell me what you see. People are hustling and bustling in the street and men and women are dressed in suites and fine gown, their tables are laden with lamb, beef, lobsters pork and all the meat in the butchers shop, but wine, beer and whisky are pouring from the top.
The trees are laden with fruits and everyone is wearing a fine pair of shoes and they are dining in fine restaurant and having nightly party. You have got to correct this disparity. Saddle your horse and come with me I am ready for the next leg of the journey.
Categories:
grocers, appreciation, business, celebration, funny
Form:
Lyric
Eliza: You''ve lost a child?
Martha: Yes. I met Harry when I was sixteen. We were so in love. He used to take me to the races at the weekend, and I''d wear a big hat and proudly walk around on his arm. We were born to be parents, and when little Lucy came in to our lives we had never been happier. There was talk of a war happening and I could not bear the thought of letting my Harry go. So he trained up as a teacher, the only sure fire way of being able to stay in London with me and little Lucy. Then one day, whilst I was at the grocers getting some shopping in, there was a screaming over and over and over again. A noise so loud it burnt right into the centre of my heart. I wanted to be home. But there was no home. A crater where it should have been. A crater where my babies should have been. Years and years of torture followed. Thinking ''Tomorrow''s not another day. Tomorrow is today, separated only by a a few restless hours. Sleeping on my Harry''s bones. Slipping in and out and in and out of consciousness. Clutching my stomach and screaming.'' I died when I was just thirty. Pneumonia. Though I''m sure many would call it heartbreak.
Eliza: Your story is beautiful.
Missy: Trust me, it gets old when you hear it every day.
Martha: Well the pain never leaves!
Eliza: Yes. So what''s behind the door? (She points to the door labelled ''depart'')
Missy: We can only guess
Martha: Heaven, maybe. People are so drawn to it. Even I was to begin with. But I was too scared to go through. Eventually I grew to love this place. Nobody expects me to get dressed in the mornings when I feel like sleeping forever. Or to know what day of the week it is. Or to care. Or to go to church on Sundays and pray to a God I''m certain hates me. For forty years I was alone, and then along came Missy. And together, we stayed.
Missy: Might be heaven, might be hell, all I know is, I don''t want to be the one to find out.
Categories:
grocers, death, me, me,
Form:
I take the easy way out
Life's a luggage with knotted cords
And walking around with it is hard
I take the easy way out
From beckoning sorrows deferred
Pass lazy neon lights where others erred
I take the easy way out
Away from the half-nude scent of girls
Drowning in their disgust, vomitted pearls
I take the easy way out
Away from glasses winking with sweaty skin
Cold as ice, and bar stools staggering spin
I take the easy way out
Pass insiduous young men selling relief
At conspicuous grocers' door of grief
I take the easy way out
For I cannot be solved by a chemical solution
Gargling through my veins, it's no ablution
I take the easy way out
Not before a screaming car or in a dismal leap
The rope can do that while I sleep
I take the easy way out
And laugh, because I believe, at everything.
Categories:
grocers, mystery, social
Form:
Verse
LOVE IN POST WORLD WAR 11
3rd and final episode of trilogy
My Grandfather was incredibly anglicised
Studied in London and qualified as an optician
My mother learnt English at school,
She was my Grandfather’s jewel!
He arranged a huge party for the British boys
That brought them freedom from evil convoys
Liberation, was followed almost immediately,
By a civil war, totally savage,
Which besides causing destruction
Brought a great deal of
Human death and anguish.
They killed many, my grandmother shopping
One day at the grocers watched something horrific,
A pregnant woman bayoneted, my gran fainted.
She was asked to be a witness for the
Families were well acquainted!
The day of the party arrived,
And my mom, already a beautiful girl, preened all day,
She hoped the young chap would come, she was a ray
Of sunshine, flitting to and fro seeing to her guests,
Weaving in and out of dancing couples, when she felt a tap
On her shoulder and there he was ,her handsome soldier,
Asking her for a dance,
They fell in love at a single glance.
The courtship lasted 18 months, my grandfather ecstatic
Of her choice – they got married in Greece
The country in peace, and the lovers at peace.
They traveled to Cyprus, England, Rhodesia, Zambia
And finally, South Africa.
Somewhere along the line I was born,
You see, I still have you all guessing my age,
That part of my diary has lost its page!
Would like us to buy a self- drive camper
So we can eternally roam,
It will be our second home,
Travelling is in my blood, blame
My parents, the army,
To which this I acclaim!
Categories:
grocers, love,
Form:
Free verse
I am your average Joe
In that I am unspectacularly unique.
Women are not turning their heads
To ogle my physique,
Nor are mothers hiding their babies’ eyes,
Fearful of my face they’ll catch a peek.
My accomplishments are many,
Though none to give me fame,
And if asked at a party,
No one would recognize my name,
Yet the few who do know me,
Respect me just the same.
I have a few traits shared by many men,
Stereotypically common of an American white male.
Raised in Anytown, United States,
In a family whose story one could not sell.
An upbringing quite familiar,
Similar to one thousands of others could tell.
And yet I have other traits that don’t quite fit the mold,
Interests and skills uniquely my own, or so I am told.
You have to get to know me, to see them for yourself,
They are not exactly on display like on a grocers’ shelf.
There are a few people who love me,
And a few others who do not,
But most if asked directly,
And put upon the spot
Would struggle for an opinion,
One way or the other, never giving it a thought.
If you took the time yourself to see,
And let an opinion inside you grow,
I am sure that you will find,
I am like no one else you know,
But if you had to describe me
You’d say I’m your Average Joe.
Categories:
grocers, introspectionme,
Form:
Bio
One time above a little shop,
An old greengrocer climbed on top,
Despite himself he could not stop,
The world had changed forever.
The fruit of that old grocers loins,
Became obsessed with notes and coins,
She knew the club she had to join,
For she was very clever.
Yet not as clever as the man,
From council flat in Birmingham,
Bought her vision and now he can,
Not get help for his wife.
A wife he loves and yes adores,
Who gave him joy and did his chores,
And lives today in corridors,
The last days of her life.
She sleeps and so he sits a while,
And raises just a little smile,
As he begins to reconcile,
The error of his ways.
He sees a TV playing news,
A woman in expensive shoes,
Repeats the grocers daugthers views,
F*** off out loud he says.
Categories:
grocers, care, political, sad,
Form:
Rhyme
We moved up North and settled down.
We moved to Egremont, a crying out town.
Crying out for money to be invested, alas!
Not too many people were interested. Alas.
The people are good, wholesome and true,
A community of strength, of township glue.
It has a church, a dentist and great vets,
It has a post office and shop selling pets.
It has a memorial where time stands still.
A grocers, a bakers sounding their tills.
Several schools, a library, even a bookies
And best of all Old Grandmas' cookies.
We moved up North to start afresh; anew.
We lost some friends but only a few;
Their 'last post' heard across the vale,
Echoing memories into far distant pale.
Not all was lost. As time went by
We made friends anew; the chosen few.
The snow capped mountains, crystal lakes.
All worthwhile, we did what it takes.
We moved up North and settled down,
We moved to Egremont, a crying out town.
Crying for money to be invested, alas!
Not too many people were interested. Alas.
Categories:
grocers, memorial, poverty,
Form:
Rhyme
It’s hard these days for a crook.
Go anywhere around and take a look.
Ain’t no shops to rob of jewelry.
They all closed up and got security.
Not even restaurants for him to rob,
and at the grocers’ Lordy - what a mob!
It’s hard these days for a thief.
I wonder how he’s finding his relief.
Folks he used to rob out on the street
are staying home or downtown packing heat!
See a mugger; put him at unease.
If ya got no gun, pretend to sneeze.
What’s he gonna do? What’s he gonna do?
That crook, that thief, that louse. He’s in a stew.
Yeah, it’s hard these days for a crook.
How’s he gonna get any fishes on his hook.
Hard to burglarize both night AND day
with kids now home and never gone away.
Dad’s are even working from their houses -
some with bullets ready for the louses!
It’s hard these days for the thief.
The grocery stores don’t even have ground beef.
Cops now guard those stores, for heaven’s sake!
How’s the robber gonna get a break?
He best be wise and stay away from US!
In case somebody out there has the virus.
What’s he gonna do? What’s he gonna do?
That crook, that thief, that louse. He’s in a stew.
March 27, 2020 for Richard Lamoureux's A-Muse-Sing Poetry Contest
I was thinking of that song "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp" and got the idea to be sarastic about crooks. So this was inspired by that song (though it does not use that song's rapping format at all), and by the title of Richard's contest. Just trying to keep things light. The guns at gun shops here are selling like hotcakes.
Categories:
grocers, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
All of a sudden, the town sort of changed,
As though the years had heaped all their dust in one go,
Reshaping the atmosphere and structure,
Erecting a darker, more feral architecture.
I sat on a bench in the square with a Diet Coke,
A Café Crème silently smouldered in my fingers,
And the ambience bristled, dangerous sensations
Tingling playfully along my gooseflesh arms.
When I was a kid, I remembered, it had felt safe,
Sure it looked crab-apple old, but solid;
Now slightly surreal – a Kebab Shop, a Cost Cutter,
Peddled addictions in the stead of grocers and cafes.
And the windows, once lit, once bright and wide,
Inviting day and night casual window shoppers;
Wares now squirreled away, shut behind steel and mesh,
Blinded produce, unless you have X-Ray eyes.
A car blazed past, peeling paint, hubcaps spraying rain,
The driver wore a reversed baseball cap,
His boombox roared culture of nine-thousand miles distant:
“Yo, mutha, today you die – rat-at-at-tat – today you die…!”
I smoked and drank coke and felt my childhood expire,
It had been years since I sat beside the Great War Cenotaph,
Yet the life that had died so very long ago for me,
Felt as though it had suddenly passed just then.
Categories:
grocers, childhood, history, loss, places,
Form:
Blank verse
Fully dropped partridge. Snowing in circles then? Interesting how a sparrow can use a spade but not a fork. And how amazing is it to whirl around and around in a barrel of sharks. Yes. It is to be said that nine times a heifer is a load of sugar lumps in a line. Rotating. Rotunda. Crazy crossing creations causing charmed cream. And a spirited spritely whale is not a light bulb glow or is it a left over luggage sign! Turntables taking trellises. Great. And an injection of interference os a ninety thousand pound bottle of wine spinning in a cloud or a solar system. Clap that then. But applause is for apples. Carry with care from grocers. And oh look the shiny sink is sparkling with wisdom and wit. For it is a carrier pigeon that sits in a pigeon hole. Wow. Wonderful wandering weave. Ha ha x and a large z too. Hypothetical Z
Categories:
grocers, angel,
Form:
When beef and ham went underground
The grocers cheered for they had found
When meat has roots
No one disputes
The moldy green that grows around
Categories:
grocers, food,
Form:
Limerick