Best Pocketbook Poems
What would I give for a book and a nook
I'd forfeit some cash from my pocketbook
Surrender my coat to a hanging wall hook
Then give it a look , as long as it took
I'd roll back the stone, crawl into a cave
Find Ol' Tom Sawyer, take some close shaves
Look for Boy Wonder, help free some slaves
Hunt for lost gold, discover old graves
Go room to room, look high and low
Ride on a broom, escape through a hole
Go with the wind, fly over rainbows
Ride chariots of fire where ever they go
Search lost horizons with great expectations
Go hunting for bison in Indian Nations
Swim with Poseidon and gather crustaceans
The suspense would heighten my imagination
A book and a nook, a perfect day
Rain or shine, take me away
To read every line on every page
Spend all my time, that's what I'd pay
an original poem by Daniel Turner
I see love
wetting a napkin
cleaning a frowning face
I see love
holding a pocketbook
outside the ladies dressing room
I see love
walking slowly
holding hands
I see love
hurrying to keep up
laughing
I see love weeping
the joy of a life together
seeping out
I see love
looking back at me
I know love
for I have been seen
…………loving
7/19/2021
I See Love – Poetry Contest
“Zoloft.” was someone’s loud, quick answer.
“Yasmin.” I heard, spoke by another. Huh?
“Xanax.” Was then offered.
While these people shouted, I stared, perplexed.
“Valium, is inside my pocketbook,
Unisom, too. It’s up to you.” said some voice.
”Thank you,” I began, “you are all dear,
Seems though, I have not been clear.
Really, all I want and need ….”
“Quick dissolving antacid is here, amid
Percocet in the drawer, in my desk,
Oxycotin, too. What bothers you?” again, someone interrupted me.
”Now that you ask,” I started to reply, “my only request,
Made just moments ago …”
“Lexapro, is in my bag.” Another spoke,
“Keep it with you all day, see if you’re okay.
Just know at work you can’t rest – it’s no joke.
It will tire a person in no time flat.” She went on,
“Happens fast, you will feel sleepy once you digest.”
”Gosh guys,” I felt mad, “this is like combat.
For goodness sake, do stop speaking out.
Everyone, hear my question, don’t make me shout,
Did any of you in this office
Consider that all I wish to
Borrow is a simple, genuine
Aspirin? Well, maybe two.”
The price we pay for our freedom is not contained in a man’s wallet,
Nor is liberty a currency found in a female fancy Gucci pocketbook.
It’s not in anyone’s liquidity portfolio investment bank records,
Nor is it contained in anybody's “Wall Street” premier trust fund accounts.
Reverently, the price we pay is not derived from ensuing wealth.
The red blood of freedom travels naturally in our veins—immutable!
Freedom has been ordained from creation in the lives of all people.
Liberty runs from heart to heart, inspires from soul to soul—sours like an eagle!
It’s linking parents to children, brother to sister, displaying courage.
Generations standing on the shoulders of generations—a fighting refuge!
The price we pay for our freedom and liberty—will never be free!
Historical accounts tried; produced no detailed cost—"It’s a sacred decree!”
The price paid has clearly left budgets—fragmented and unbalanced,
Red poppies blooming in the fields of courageous remembrance!
It has triggered aching souls, caused running nostrils, and weeping eyes.
Ladies wearing dark veils, and men black suits—great spirits that never die!
Uplifting hand and heads under the moon and sparkling stars at night.
Courage inspiring life in delight to continue the fight without—fright nor flight!.
Many look forward to more significant liberating inspiration to come.
Brilliantly embracing the shining new embolden golden rays of the rising sun.
Such a priceless premium runs in our veins and precious arteries.
The price paid for liberty and freedom is entrenched in our hearts naturally!
My wallet has credit cards
And my I.D.
(My license to drive
With a picture of me.)
My library card and
My store discount stash
Share limited space with
My limited cash.
Insurance I.D.'s,
Safety pins and receipts
Nestle next to my photos,
Such room-hogging treats.
Appointment reminders,
My pass for the Zoo
Stretch the leather along with
My Garden pass, too.
Add a band-aid and stamps
And a bunch of loose change;
When I take out my wallet,
Folks look at me strange.
I bought a small pocketbook -
Thought I would try it -
But first off, my wallet
Must go on a diet!
The last-call lights flickered once more
A warning sign she chose to ignore
Her soul, just like her pocketbook
Was as empty as inside the glass she looked
The bartender said, “Lass, you now must leave”
As she wiped her tears on a tattered sleeve
With no place left in the world to go
She ventured out in the freshly fallen snow
The beauty that she once wore with pride
Had long ago shriveled up and died inside
Her vanity had taken its high priced toll
Leaving behind a lost and lonely soul
Girls who were much less popular than she
Now bask in a love life of prosperity
While she is a smile in many a lad’s past
The less frivolous girls have had the last laugh
Now her love is something she can’t give away
None of the men she devoured elected to stay
That pint she just drained with her last sip
Is the only thing left willing to touch her lips
Her lights flickered their own last call
As she ached for some more alcohol
Faces come at me as stricken
as graveyard moons.
The supermarket hangs heavy,
laden as it is with neon anchors.
The aisles are runways for empty eyes,
a few sections contain searching bodies.
She turns to me at the check-out,
she has me tagged;
wine bottles from the mark-down bin
rattle on the moving counter.
She clutches a red plastic pocketbook.
Brown knee-length boots, dimples.
Gold button earrings - worn-out pretty;
hard liquor in soft bottles.
There is just us, and the
shuttling hands of the shop-worker'
She has to talk. "Sorry," she says.
I wonder if I should apologize also?
I think we are just forgiving each other
for being here in an awkward moment,
in the late hour, exposed like this.
Outside, the car park is lifting off
into the night.
A thousand aliens are leaving
to search for salvation.
I can't look at them,
each face is a small moon shining.
On My Eighty Fifth Birthday
Another Birthday…I’m still alive
Never thought that I’d survive
To the ripe old age of Eighty Five!
But here I am…feisty still
Even though I’m over the hill!
Don’t count me out...Don’t ring that bell
I’m still here and raising hell!
Had a few blimps along the way
But I’m not leaving, I’m here to stay
Still have plans…I’m not done yet
I may do things I may regret
But I’ll have fun doing it
You can bet!
It matters not how old you are
You can dream your dream
Or follow your star
Your flesh may fail you
Your steps may be slow
More and more wrinkles start to show
But there is one thing I surely know
A man isn’t judged by how he looked
Or the size of his fortune or pocketbook
The greatest legacy he leaves behind
Isn’t intelligence or a fertile mind
But the love he gave to his family and friends
A heart full of love always transcends
Fame and fortune in the end
So Happy Birthday again to me
How many more…..?
We’ll just have to see
In the meantime friends
You’ll be hearing from me!
Copyright©2013 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)
God must be sleeping now as the dog dreams
He mumbles help me as he is thrown into the ring
As he is bitten his tears of hope cry
I was happy to run and my mothers paws
God must be sleeping now as the addict waits for her trick
She opens the car door and wonders where did I turn
Her Father drank and beat her Mother
I was happy kicking cans and hiding and seeking
God must be sleeping now as the mother stands the line
Waiting her chance to speak and get the dole
Her children screaming and no food or goodies
I was happy playing with dolls and doctor was my downfall
Allah must be sleeping as the Taliban beat the solo women
She cries for pity as the men strike her with the club
She wears the burqa and prays for America
I was happy playing in the fields with my brother
God must be sleeping as the old woman has her pocketbook snatched
Her social security money gone as the food she will eat
Sitting on the ground thinking and praying and no answer
She was happier even when her husband lay dying and alone
God must be sleeping as the Earth quakes and tsunami
The wave crashes over the homes of the unsuspecting
The wife being torn from her husbands arms never seen again
To death came to part and the happiness too
God slept on the seventh day as he was tired
The people constantly praying for his wonders
His world in ruins as mankind molest his children
He was happier when he walked the gardens of Eden
Helplessly, I saunter in and step into the line.
Drawn into the store by the aroma so devine.
I reach inside my pocketbook and quickly rummage through.
Finally, some dollars, to get my morning brew.
Intoxicating, rich and dark, I never can resist.
Penetrating every pore just like a lover’s kiss.
The line moves ever slowly until I’m there at last.
Underneath a magic spell the precious drink has cast.
Eventually, with brew in hand I’m quickly on my way.
Secure in thought that I can now begin my hectic day.
Liquid treasure in a cup that slowly calls my name.
Lost in sweet seduction, every morning it's the same.
Why do people pay big bucks
For something by Chanel?
I realize that they’re selling to
A wealthy clientele…
But I really just don’t get it.
Every pocketbook or such
With that famous logo goes for
What most folks would say too much.
And by that, I’m talking thousands
Just to own, what seems to me,
Quite an ugly choice of purses
With a fancy pedigree.
Still, so many women want them
And I really wish I knew
What’s the root of their attraction,
For I haven’t got a clue.
< my little girl came to me and asked for a pet
to me my heart just hasn't been quite set
but who could resist those baby brown eyes
and all those little wimpers and desirable sighs
so off we went in our broken down wagon
where the rear end you could tell was sagging
to petland is where we went
pocketbook really took a dent
odie and garfield was their chosen names
two bunny hampsters very different but the same
oh my little girl was not yet done
said mama we need hampster ball so they can have alot of fun
and don't forget their bedding liners
so their living will be much finer
but first you must buy them their cage
oh my little girl is quite smart for her age
she knows they like fruit and snacks
so she doubled order with ten sacks
ring ring ring ding ding ding
did it's cash register ever so did sing
eighty five fifty
well ain't that nifty
handed lady one hundred
mumbling under breath was said
left store in a hurry
with our clothes looking so dam fury
Written By Katherine Stella 7/3/11
Entry For Francine Robert's
Pick A Pet Contest
G.L. All
Coco Chanel gel
Fifty dollars = six ounces
Sample last how long
Rub a little on
Each morning just feel richer
Ackchu allergy
Too rich for my pocketbook anyway
The pocketbook
Thrown upon
The car seat
Hangs precariously
Unzipped
First attempt at
Gogyohka
Haven't a clue if correct
Hear that sound coming from your
television set
Government warning: This is not a test!
There’s no music rocking
from your radio
Only the shrill alert of an emergency signal
indicating transmission shutdown
Better put on an aluminum tin foil hat
to block out the penetrating EM waves
Unauthorized dark-net instructions
rapidly rappelling
over your cranial firewall
Audio emissions
spiking an intrusive breach
Fertile mind-control conditions,
activate the patriotic sleeper sells
Keep the pocketbook within reach
You never thought to ask
how did you get that small scar
on the side of your neck
When you went to the doctor
for a regular checkup visit
Anesthesia clouds your memory,
microchip implantation
not put on your medical history
Audio emissions
now have put someone else
in control of you
Stay on script to the program,
that’s all you can do
Can no longer block
the high-tech matrix
noise pollution coming through
Audio emissions
have made a human robot out of you