Best Liquidation Poems


Premium Member Her Jewelry Box

When I asked my wife to marry me, ‘neath a golden moon, 
I said I could not give her the moon and the stars, but, 
“Each special day I will give you a piece of jewelry,” I said, 
Then, jokingly, “When I am gone, you can wear your jewels 
To the Caribbean and snatch up a younger, wealthy lover.” 

I did not think I would survive her, being much older, so, 
After she was gone, I opened her jewelry box and found 
Her jewels—a lilac amethyst ring, a chartreuse citron pinkie, 
An anniversary ring with a precious aquamarine, among others, 
And, the coral necklace we found on the island of Barbados. 

Born in July under the sign of Cancer, I had longed to find her 
A ruby birthstone necklace, scarce and expensive as saffron. 
On a road trip out west, we ran across an outlet jewelry store 
Having a huge liquidation sale, and there, marked down, I found 
Her a crimson ruby solitaire pendant as sparkling as could be. 

We came home from Mexico with her oval watermelon pendant, 
And a Mexican opal, lemon with a firing of iridescent tangerine, 
Which she had carefully wrapped in a exquisite lavender cachet. 
She had taken the money her father had given her before he passed 
And purchased a beautiful pearl necklace--she wore it only once. 

Written April 4, 2021
for "Changing Colors Poetry Contest"
sponsored by Emile Pinet
Categories: liquidation, for her,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Bad For Business

** Apologies for anyone unfamiliar with the metaphors used, they're quite British ***

Most people in life work for someone
as all the statistics have shown
but I thought I'd go out and start up by myself
as an entrepreneur, go it alone.
My radio shop called in the receivers,
someone got in and all the stock stole,
so I switched to creating a unique shampoo
but that all went down the plug hole.
I started a wallpaper business
but that quickly went to the wall
My pet grooming venture has gone to the dogs
And my parachute school took a fall.
My submarine business went under,
my brake shoe shop, that hit the skids,
the paper shop folded, boat builder ran aground
but I wasn't surprised when it did.
The detergent idea is all washed up,
and my driving instructor school crashed,
my water filtration is in liquidation
and  dustbin cleaning business got trashed.
My hairdressers, that came a cropper,
I thought that would do well the most,
then my skills as a medium,
nobody did need 'em,
and that has now given up the ghost.
My last chance is growing tobacco,
as that should appeal to some folk,
it does sound quite appealing,
but I have a bad feeling
that the whole thing will go up in smoke.
© Viv Wigley  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: liquidation, business,
Form: Rhyme

Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted

'Knock, knock' on the door,
But, I won't let you in.
No, no.
The chamber of my heart is closed.
But 'knock, knock' you say.
Oh no!
I am stronger in this position than any other.
A huge 'liquidation' sign hung,
For months and months,
At my window pane.
I gave away everything I had to give,
To you,
To family,
To friends.
Nothing is left here,
Nothing for you,
Nothing for me.
There is no you and me.
My heart is closed.
I sacrificed,
I worked,
I gambled,
I lost.
I am fine.
'Knock, knock' you say.
But my door is closed to you,
Always now.
I won't let you in again.
No. no.
Go away, now.
I have nothing left to give.
The chamber of my heart was looted long ago.
Gutted.
Raised to the ground.
Left empty.
Dilapidated.
Condemned.
Like a broken down warehouse,
In some sort of insurance scam that went wrong.
Was that it?
Was this all some crazy scheme?
To gather insurance on care?
On love?
To put me in line?
To own everything I have?
Everything I am?
To control me?
Insuring against me,
Then ripping me apart,
Stone by stone,
Day by day.
No, no. 
You can't come in again.
Not you.
Not ever.
Go away.
This fraud went wrong.
I build back up,
Brick by fragile brick.
I put up a wall,
With a sign,
'Private property',
Keep out!
Yet, 'knock, knock',
So, now I say,
'Trespassers will be prosecuted'.
Oh yes.
Come near me again,
I will tear you apart.
I have emotional dynamite,
Golden.
So much you don't know.
Oh yes.
Come near me again,
I will blow your life apart,
Just as you did mine.
'Knock, knock'?
Really?
'Knock, knock'?
Honestly?
You think you have a right to ask?
For anything?
Ever again?
Oh no!
Not now.
Not never.
Test my walls,
If you like.
They are steady.
Knock on the door,
If you like.
I'm not listening.
My chamber's closed,
My heart is not open for business,
Everything went in the recession.
I don't have a thing to my name,
Emotionally.
Except ambition.
And drive.
And a whole host of strength.
You can lay siege,
I won't notice.
You can knock,
I won't answer.
No, no,
Not ever again.
You are not welcome.
Oh no!
No more.
Please go.
Spare yourself the trouble,
Of the incessant knocking...
Categories: liquidation, funny, lost loveme, heart,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member But Never Forget

But Never Forget

Stoned out his lonely mind and drunk on booze and oblivion he headed straight 
into memorial abandon doomed and entombed smashed forgotten and lost forever

He once was Jack but his friends called him Daniel or Beam a proper lad walking
the tight rope which snapped under the influence too staggered to walk thus he
took his proud chrome machine home from his drinking hole past the cemetery

Ten drinks too many ten commandments ignored the message of grapevines which
haunt him though he still is too pickled to wake from his coffin nailed in the sand

He turns in his grave deliriously trembling from within crashed skull and bones a 
statistic foretold an accident waiting to happen grape wrath wreaths draped over the 
anger of the innocent victims of his reckless slaughter in another man’s family’s grief

Buried and berried his final resting place revolves around the plight of his victims
overgrowing vines drape the tormenting obsession with liquor not bearing up to 
the promise but a killer instead creepingly depicted through the inscription of 
'bastard’ carved in the stone hiding the shame he never absolved nor confronted

His mates do not remember him much and do not visit the funeral grounds as they
are always too drunk and only occasionally toast to how much drink he could stomach 
and after a while the rampant sleaze of uncultivated excess sprouts just as untamed
as Jack the lad and his liquefied liquidation of a moribund life lost in the undergrowth

When the dust and the seedy sediment has settled Jack’s mother still mourns what
still festers under the surface and the descendants of the hapless casualty killed in 
the process wish for the grape vines to smother to maybe forgive but never forget
Categories: liquidation, death, , memorial,
Form: Free verse

Presidential Inauguration 2017 - Poetic Screed - Part3

pioneer esprit de corps front tier brisk.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *             
Open arms and clenched raised fists raise 
masquerade diametrically opposed to rodomontade sways
spewing threatening sacred constitution 
   expounding vaunted values déclassé 1968 degreed phase
Wharton alumni now on warpath to raze 
via his bull dozing wreaks havoc on coven daze
ruining complex edifice 
   usurped storied super power craze
thru humiliation, liquidation of dredging bays
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *         
and justification (viewed thru his warped vision) 
scotching inalienable rights reducing to rubble bedrock division
with remainder of flinty stones, 
   and unlovely bones a wasteland fission
absent without a trace any evidence of Halcyon days, 
   which abomination, decimation, and gangrenous lesion
joie de vivre, when martial law decree deep incision 
heil come rolled up (frightfully with egregious decision.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *             
the venomous, tenebrous, and rancorous white house 
Head honcho viz prez) inside checkered hookahs lighting 
one end per slow burn as hoary smoke emanates 
   in shape of Taj Mahal, then harmless as Mickey mouse 
he iz well singed, seared, and scalded like a cook grouse
(yet of course still alive) sent to further douse
him into initiation righting tis basic human coup laid louse.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *             
Acid test whereby he will be sold to Vladimir Putin for bunk
her hilled feather bedding rubles on the dollar, where clunk
key interim held up by cadre of well comb pence dunk
key Kong sated marionettes, which will carry fleshy lunk  
dirty deeds done dirt cheap of this unmentionable monk
key villainous uber trumpeter, scabrous, recalcitrant querulous punk!
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *            
keep your finger and toes crossed for the next four years
aware that such laughable ruse and superstitious scares
not one impish bot of fate, but more so gives false cheers.
Categories: liquidation, betrayal, dark, heartbroken, house,
Form:

Genesis Incorporation a Litter Ray Tion

4 ablution 4 acclimatization 4 adulation 
4 benediction 4 biotransformation 4 blastulation 
4 concatenation 4 conception 4 configuration 
4 declaration 4 dictation 4 differentiation 
4 ejaculation 4 emancipation 4 ******** 
4 fascination 4 flagellation 4 flocculation
4 gastrulation 4 glamorization 4 glorification 
4 habituation 4 harmonization 4 homogenization 
4 implantation 4 impregnation 4 incubation 
4 jubilation 4 junction 4 juxtaposition 4 kation 
4 keratinization 4 k-ration 
4 labialization 4 libation 4 liquidation 
4 manifestation 4 menstruation 4 micro-encapsulation 
4 negotiation 4 notification 4 notion 
4 ovation 4 oviposition 4 ovulation 
4 parturition 4 penetration 4 perpetuation 
4 quadruplication 4 qualification 4 question 
4 reaction 4 repopulation4 reproduction 
4 sanctification 4 schematization 4 scintillation 
4 thermojunction 4 titillation 
4 underestimation 4 unification 4 union 
4 validation 4 valuation 4 vasocongestion 
4 weatherization 4 workstation 
4 zombification 4 zonation
Categories: liquidation, angel, baby, birth, child,
Form: Alliteration


Neuvième Fable

Neuvième Fable 
Neuvième Fable 
   
Tragic Love 
   
Internet Love 
   
L'amour pour les brebis ont des yeux est la même que iff nous wed. 
Les sentiments qu'elle me donne ne sont jamais remplis d'effroi. 
Mais rien ne peut rosée, elle me ferait jamais vouloir liquidation morts, mais la 
vie à l'amour qu'ils font le temps de vie au lieu. Eye pourrait marcher les couloirs 
de la mémoire et de vous déprimé ou des yeux pourrait devenir une religieuse 
coupable dans le plaisir et repos dans le couvent jusqu'à ce que la mort peut 
nous part de rosée de la mort peut donner mais ce qui me reste de l'amour. 
Comment un homme peut obtenir si excitée un peu au point vert en quelques 
clics de souris, puis une zone de chat blanc froid. L'encre n'est jamais humide 
sur papier mye frisolée encore là, il est son amour. Quand elle me sourit oeil 
sourire quand elle fronce les sourcils yeux pleurent une rivière de la stuffins 
conservés dans tout repose autochtones découlant de faire une faute de la mort 
semblent quelque peu à écrire les mots à la mandé coeur s'écarter de 
s'inquiéter et de malheur et de prendre le tout nouveau départ Et bientôt tout ça 
fonctionne pour l'amour. Blanche-Neige, elle a mangé la pomme, puis est 
tombé à s'endormir rapidement mais Charlax venu à l'embrasser et à vivre son 
éveil. Prince Charlax bons baisers. 
En direct sur le ruisseau la pêche de libellules dans une maison de l'amour. 
Mending coeur de charme. Faire l'amour dans le coeur. Mye neige blanche tortue 
pookie pochoucntous amour mon amour mon internet thrall. Nous pouvons avoir 
tout juste à tenir sur mes namme et de l'amour. 
Les chercheurs ont maintenant prouvé que l'amour peut réparer un cœur brisé.
Categories: liquidation, devotion, faith, wedding, wife,
Form: Prose Poetry

Feels Like Freedom

Rejoice 
in the Sweet Salvation 
From Hell's damnation. 
You no longer conform to 
Those who don't want you 
To be you. 
You've now freed yourself 
From the makers of Mainstream 
Society. 
Rejoice in the sweet 
Freedom. 
Revel in the liquidation 
of their control. 
Now how does it feel 
To be relinquished? 
Like swimming through 
The scene without 
Fear to be real. 
Glow in the dark, 
Glow brighter in the light. 
You've broken through, 
You're now the 8th wonder 
Of the World. 
You are the great Sight. 
You are you, no longer alike 
with anyone else. 
Welcome. 
Welcome to yourself. 
How does it feel? 
Well it feels like freedom 
To be real.
Categories: liquidation, confidence, freedom, inspiration, life,
Form: Blank verse

I Am a Capitalist

I am a capitalist, I hate to share
I am opulent, this is worth my flair
I am the one percent that is worth your fifty
This must be the artistry of the ingenious and thrifty 

I am just a bull who stepped out of the herd
I studied its weakness and found my perch
I climbed and cut off the rundles from the ladder
I sit grinning at the top of my skyscraper

I watch the working class from my throne, grinding for wants
They’re always on the move like an army of ants
Like a chase grandmaster I develop these pawns
I pin them to protect my castles by vouching their loans

There they are, I can almost hear them pant
Only I understands this concrete jungle hunt
They graze and bury their head in the pasture
I am alert and crouch before I make a capture 

Give them a wage and a pension, and we are all square
But a loss, a liquidation, a recession is theirs to bear
They pray to heaven, I prey on tax havens
Between my factory and my sanctuary are vast oceans

There is a “CAP”, and an “A-LIST” in “CAPITALIST”
There is a “PRO” and “FIT” in “PROFIT”
I am just like a capital letter standing out in a noun
Just like a capital city separating the seed from the cuff

You think I am a genius, a quick thinker
I am just an ideologue who spoke quicker
Convinced you my mind was far better
What will I be without the hands of labour?

I am a capitalist, I will give you a ballot before a cast vote
I am a capitalist, I will oil a preacher, if it makes me richer
I am a capitalist, I will throw you a banquet for the right tax bracket
I am a capitalist, I will give you a fancy title for the right totals
Categories: liquidation, america, anger, business, corruption,
Form: Ballad

Toxic State

Immobilized by trepidation
like a prisoner on the rack
An imagined consternation 
From another anxiety attack
Constant state of dissipation
From perceived things I lack
A complete liquidation
Making a weary insomniac
Like a slow and steady ablation
Like a stoic, reserved maniac
Categories: liquidation, angst, anxiety, conflict, feelings,
Form: Rhyme

Chronicles of Our Nations Surmountable Palava

CHRONICLES OF OUR NATIONS SURMOUNTABLE PALAVA

Our currency mirrors my area
and the state of our beloved Nigeria; 
Worthless. Hopeless but a resurgent oneness.
The government parastatals are clueless,
But it's still our nation, more or less.

Despite holding so much promises 
and natural resources, 

our government offices
are managed by corrupt forces 
already carrying generational curses.

Currency summation doesn't give grand equation,
rags of time sneers our 'notes into liquidation.
Just as the 100 naira equals 2 gala,
our currency is dwarfed by the dollar,

We don tire fo all the kuru kere & kasala
wey, for this country, don cause plenty wahala.
But here we stand in hope like a faithful lover,
singing the Chronicles of our nation's surmountable palava. 

#OnTheSpotPoetry #InspiredByTheImage #HundredNairaEqualsTwoGala #WorthlessNaira 
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}.
Copyright© Today, right now, February 22nd, 2021.
Categories: liquidation, 1st grade, corruption, extended
Form: Italian Sonnet

Natural Disaster

Demolished cities; citizens panic
Liquidation is here; leaders are manic
Casualties increase; hope is diminished
Faith is lost; Life is finished
Categories: liquidation, death, fear, natural disasters,
Form: Quatrain

Judgement of His Brethren

The People will not forget me my convictions aren't uncharacteristic of me 
sympathy will be victorious and comfort me through my demise a requiem mass 
will welcome my day of death. Yes the suffering and turmoil the aggression and 
genocide I imply was righteous by design, so with in confinement my blemished 
rule seen as cruel but my supremacy as an infallible leader was instrumental in 
the conquering of my people. This my formal brethren may label me a tyrant and 
with out warrant denounce my doctrine as systematic murder but I see 
glorification under heavy revolutionary sedation. My imperial voyage was historic 
and the liquidation of the inferior folk was so incomprehensible that no one 
spoke of it, in judgement I will be martyred as a ruler of profound sectarian 
ideology this title will never evade me.You tend to forget my exquisite and 
prominent authoritarian kingdom gave you power and now in my final hour I 
stand a once unshakeable man in mercy of you. Gentlemen as I step down may 
the ground erupt with the foot steps of loyal jackboots that march to the beat of 
my unique drum, may the culmination of my greatness and building of a proud 
civilization fall to decadence. Now bring me death into the hands of evil as angels 
wept.
© Cole Beck  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: liquidation, history, mystery, people, me,
Form: Bio

Anatomy of the Oranges

you’re not adams apple 

the  fruits from tree of the knowledge 
of good and evil
in the middle of the garden of eden
in genesis

yet at you 
the round oranges of this afternoon-town 
i stare 

and my pate gradually 
becomes pregnant 

the  wind that comes after 
having a touch of your lips 
puts the waging of its tail on my forehead 

and my guava-leaf begins to melt 

thus my hardware-business is going 
into liquidation 

the physician to the king is telling 
it’s the symptom of an awful fever attended with
the morbidity of the three humours of the body 

used and used and used

your smile has not yet become 
stupid 

so from where the lamp-posts of the 
town start 

there are the cutlets  and the bolster 
they are not the only to utter the last words 

i’m too 
in this summer 
trying to  decorate 
the gate of my cage like wedding ceremony 

if any soundless dew-drop comes 
to prepare and feed me 
my birth-day frumenty 

but i’ve no tongue 
at all 

all over the face there are only the eyes

and to the fate of my staring-at 
has ever so much blessings been available
Categories: liquidation, fantasy
Form: Free verse

Civilization's Concern

Kudos! 
LINES lament liquidation. 
Modernization masks MARKS, 
Neglecting neonatal nemesis.
Categories: liquidation, abuse, art, beauty, bullying,
Form: Alliteration
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