Best Receipts Poems
I envy those living as part of the wild
For I too, once heeded its call
A smoldering ember since I was a child
Urge, and belonging all part of the thrall.
I’ve enjoyed the fresh taste of a sparkling stream
Felt the tremble as you push through your fear
Stood high on a peak admiring Gods scheme
Felt both delight and remorse for taking a deer.
I’ve walked for weeks through valleys and trees
Traversed mountains with lush native grass
Felt the warmth and the cold of high country breeze
Navigated tussock, forests and high country pass.
I’ve smelt autumn rain as it mingles with dirt
Enjoyed the isolation of me and my views
Valued crude shelter while nature unleashes its hurt
Watched forest birds doing their best to amuse
But I’m now destined to be one of societies slaves
In a world where worth is measured by cash
Where worry and stress are delivered in waves
Where those without are regarded as trash.
I felt most alive in the middle of nowhere
Now dead when hemmed by city and streets
Nothing compares with fresh mountain air
Living free, no money, bills, or receipts.
Feeling the desolation, of smothering air
Hemmed in by crowds; the obliqueness of fear
Throng of the city and no sight of the sun
Incessant noise and the desire to just run.
And I drive.
Arterial routes clogged by metal and wheels
Schizophrenic drivers living others ideals
Neon and lights sizzling the sides of the streets
Marketing signage, greed’s consumer receipts.
And I drive.
White picket fences, roses, and manicured lawns
Ridiculous box housing, erected for ludicrous pawns
Playgrounds, big supermarkets, cafes and parks
Sprawling suburbia with its pools built by sharks.
And I drive
Warehouses dispensing the needs of the hordes
Industrious factories like cash castles of lords.
Sawmills busily feeding more desecration of land
Refuse collection sites completely sterile and bland.
And I drive.
Ten-acre barons on frivolous bundles of dirt
Escaping urbanity in the unproductive outskirts.
Postage stamp fields supporting ponies and kids
While toffee nose parents sit in ultra posh digs.
And I drive
Paddocks of cattle dispersed through productive farmland
Shiny new tractors with men toughened and tanned
Marshmallow hay bales pimple the face of the ground
Irrigators urinate on earth until drowned.
And I drive.
Magnificent mountains covered in beckoning trees
Clear running streams and whispering breeze
Wild flowers gently waving as robins flit all around
Radiant true colours and smoothing calm sounds.
And yes I am home.
An ocean of papers
A collection of a lifetime
It's not about love letter
Documents and receipts
Paper that has been yellowed
from ancient times
Dust dancing in the sunlight
Everything has to be markuleres
How many kilos
Nobody knows
A new generation
Paperless society
Computer world ~ thanks
- A whole week with smiles, memories and tears -
18.08.2015 A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(For Beloved Pets competition, submitted June 16th 2015)
Tell-tale marks from your last climb, those claw marks in the paper
removing the wall coverings better than a shop bought scraper
the light pull I have had to change, the curtain cords as well
shampooed the landing carpet three times now to clear the smell
each week another dead rodent and slugs, just one or two
you've turned the space behind the couch into your private zoo
The scratch posts I sent back (good job that I kept the receipts)
since for that job the table leg you find is hard to beat
sticky gunk on cushions, God knows where you'd picked that up
and leaping on the counter knocking off my favourite cup
getting me to climb, at my age, up into the tree
to rescue you but you climbed down and ran off, leaving me
the Fire department had a laugh, but no, you didn't care
but sashayed off, oblivious, long tail held in the air
piles of towels for drying you from days spent in the rain
on next door neighbour's garage roof, governing your domain
the Doctor says my blood pressure is just a little high
I felt I'd lose my dignity if I really told him why
since all it takes it just one look from two bright amber eyes
to soften up the heart of one long suffering old moaner
I love you my Celeste, my Cat, forever-
from your owner x
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!
Declined
Laughing, only to hide the tears,
now gathering in the corners of my mouth,
drowning me…(I should be so lucky)
staring at a reflection in the protective glass,
not someone I recognize at this convenience store counter,
even if it is me
When facing a fool, as I often do,
I close my eyes as to not see the sorrowed face,
yet I know…I have been warned
“Don’t reach for what you cannot have…
No hands in the cookie jar,
it’ll spoil your appetite”
But I don’t listen, I hear, but…I am hungry,
she can’t mean me? Not me,
not the dancing clown that brings smiles
Watch me juggle, my heart, my love, my soul,
spotlights transition my lenses
and the stage goes dark
The minimum wage clerk is not amused,
wiping his nose with his hand,
then extending it as if requesting payment
But I have not purchased, I have only looked,
watched her walk to another, thumbing her nose in my direction
as if hitch hiking on her face
Still I reach for an empty wallet
filled with past due receipts and plastic poison,
fattening the faux leather Fossil with I.D. holder
Another swipe of the card, slowly as directed,
magnetic strip inward…
declined…what else is new
Adamant Face
My mother used to say with an adamant face, "There is a place for everything and for everything a place!”
My goodness, this house is a total disgrace"
So every Tuesday at quarter past 4:OO
each person in our family had the same chore,
to straighten the house and pick up the floor.
We all sighed, then one replied,
“Where do we put things?”
“Where do they go?”
"Where did they come from?"
"We don’t know!”
"Just put things back in their original home.
"Whatever you do, don’t let them roam"
If you don’t know what it's called,
where to put it,
or what it does,
or you can’t throw it out or know it’s name because,
it doesn’t have a match or
there is a piece detached ;
then don’t give up, just keep your chin up.
Leave nothing astray, but please be done by the end of the day"
"There is a place for everything and for everything a place" she reminded us with her adamant face.
Our cleaning began, and what did we find ?
Interesting things of every kind.
Two birthday candles from my cake years ago, rusted nail clippers that trimmed my big toe.
A broken pencil with a very dull end, and a thank you card I forgot to send.
A soy sauce packet stuck to a fork, from a take out order of moo shoo pork.
A spool of thread, the color red, when I sewed my clumsy thumb instead!
Grandpa’s glasses missing one lens
My sister’s retainer
And 2 leaky pens
A postal stamp
A bread bag clip
The top to my mother’s pink lipstick.
A germy cold lozenge when I had the flu.
A dirty lace from a tennis shoe.
Three receipts from CVS.
A zipper from an old prom dress.
Soon we finished, and one replied,
“Our cleaning is done, we picked up the floor,
No longer a disgrace anymore!"
"We put things back in their original home,
where they belonged and could not roam”
“Mother, that place was the kitchen drawer!"
Our job is done, say no more!
we learned to live on breadcrumbing
to orbit without return
haunting for love
a kittenfisher smiled
through borrowed summers
a catfisher built an entire moon
we endured benching
cushioning
roster dating—
hearts lined as spare chairs
after the guests had gone
I practiced love bombing
you future faking
the skilled preferred negging
one small faultline opening under load
and a place to live inside it
we drifted through situationships
through talking stages
through the annual migration
of ghosting, zombieing and hoovering
a hard launch
a soft launch
then pocketing
banksying taught us
how to leave without leaving
ghostlighting taught us
how to return without arriving
meanwhile the wildflowerers
flowered
the slow daters
kept their own time
every exclusive
promise
stalled at a DTR
frozen at the lip
of the relationship escalator
watching the steel teeth
flatten and disappear
red flags
snapped in the wind
green flags
semaphored
beige flags overgrown
in the yard
one night the throngers
argued hot takes beneath the stars
I felt the ick
you went delulu
someone else shrekking at last
laughed with their whole strange face
and for a moment
nobody was performing
just two people
standing outside the slang
while every
label we had worn
blew past—
confetti and bleached receipts
a failure to launch
breaking open in beach grass
MysticMisfits™ Staff Directory
Staff Spotlight:The WanderPoet
Position: Ephemeral Verse Consultant
Clock-in Time: Unknown
Clock-out Time: Immediately After You Notice Him
You won’t see him arrive.
You might catch a glimpse--
a flicker of velvet,
a whisper that sounds like unfinished poetry.
He drifts between aisles,
scribbling stanzas on the backs of receipts,
leaving notes folded in teacups,
and misquoting love spells near the lip balm display.
He never applied for the job.
He just appears
right before a storm,
drops a single verse,
and vanishes before the ink dries.
We tried giving him a name tag once.
It wrote itself into a sonnet
and dissolved in moonlight.
Check back often. New employees arrive whenever the veil thins… or HR sneezes.
When we don’t pronounce silent letters while speaking,
They’ve secret messages to tell, let’s keep them in writing.
Like letter “t” in a word listen has a silent scream for all,
Teaching us the key to understanding, let’s answer its call!
B in word subtle reminds us not to use force or loud demands,
For social situations with grace, be users of soft cues and nuance.
K of word knives says keep them away from children,
To avoid accidents and harm, use them only in the kitchen.
W in write reminds that words are expressions of thoughts,
Scribbling with pen and paper will free us from fear and doubts.
H in honesty or honor highlights our highest moral values
H in hour greets, “Hi! Let’s enjoy life, time’s so precious!”
G in sign, design and resign speaks important marks…signals
Ready to go and build creatively with firm decision, approval.
P in the word receipts demands us to pay financial obligations
P in psychology whispers pay attention on mind and perceptions.
Silent letters in thousand words are all sending messages,
To tell them all, this couplet will definitely run out of pages.
A rage results:
the orange dolt’s
been at the tweets.
Or truths they’re called -
I am appalled;
please bring receipts.
Then Harris talks -
word salad pox
from pre-typed sheets.
Oh, RFK
You had the day,
why the retreats?
—————
A Rhupunt of the form aaB ccB ddB with 4-syllable lines
Written: October 28, 2025
I press my palm against your shoulder,
dust-streaked and aged
You unfold before me.
Heat rises from the folds
between the tendon and the tender dough.
I savor a bite of the dough.
reminiscent of the stars I once folded,
now scattered,
akin to lost receipts
in a tempest.
I arrive with my stained skin, as a flyer
marred by hurried typos,
hastily printed
by a restless intern.
Here, I consume you wholly.
A vendor presents grief in palm-sized parcels,
with you wrapped in sensational headlines
That twists the truth.
I swallow every piece of you,
even the mustard staining the captions.
But then the rain begins—my likeness of you blurs,
my ink a wing in flight as a winged creature.
A man in uniform smiles and brushes
the sugar from my scalp
casting it into the tide, a final farewell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This poem was written in response to an assignment in my online poetry class: “Why does an ordinary life feel like a failure in today's world?”
Because Instagram is a museum,
and we are the unpaid janitors
of our own lives~
mopping up the spillage
of seemingly
unremarkable mornings.
Because someone’s balcony
is always brighter,
their coffee more artful,
their sadness more cinematic.
Our sadness arrives
in discount sweatpants,
unphotogenic.
Because the algorithm whispers:
You could be the main character,
but the plot demands
a montage, a twist,
a soundtrack swelling
as you jog toward redemption.
You are still tying your shoes.
Because the word ordinary
has been hijacked and laundered
into something suspicious~
like a plain envelope
in an age of glitter bombs.
Because we forget
how the spine of a day
is built from quiet commas,
not exclamation marks.
How the heart keeps
its most sacred receipts
in the pocket of an old coat~
a ticket stub,
a note that says come home soon,
the way the light looked
when it was enough.
Joke was on him
A lie can perpetuate with a blinding speed
Growing on the heels of shameful greed
If enough people believe a con-man's spiel
And blindly proceed to invest in a dubious deal.
He began quite small with his Ponzi scheme
Stomping ruthlessly on gullible citizen's dream
Pretending that he was investing in stock market
Delivering promised returns regularly on target.
Becoming famous as word of high returns spread
Billions he attracted as testimonials mislead,
Paying current clients from new-client receipts
Manipulating his records to hide his deceits.
Although his company was frequently audited
No one could detect the fraud being committed.
Suspicions ran high for returns were unbelievable,
Authorities were fooled by a fraud inconceivable.
Ponzi scheme thrives on constant new cash flow
As new funds meet outflows that continue to grow,
But it collapses in a hurry if new money stops
For clients demand refunds as the company flops.
A market-crash caused new money to dry out
Bringing to a quick end his fraudulent clout
As he confessed to a multibillion fraud scheme
When finally he realized that the joke was on him.
Investors big and small were caught by surprise
Lives that were ruined continue to agonize.
Soon he was arrested for his long tenure of crime
And sentenced to prison for his remaining lifetime.
His son committed suicide overcome by veracity
As his wife deflects shame in solitude of tenacity.
While he sits in jail for a crime of this century
Grievous losses torment lives due to his treachery.
A fraud only propagates till its ultimate demise
For truth always conquers defeating all lies.
November 26, 2017
I started a joke
Sponsor: Maria Williams
First Place
Note: This Ponzi scheme was uncovered after the 2008 market crash. Though the fraudster never invested in the market, new money flow stopped because investors were spooked by the market decline and ensuing recession. He confessed when he couldn't make a multi-billion payment due in 2008. He was sentenced to 150 years in jail. One of his sons committed suicide, the other son died. His brother was also sentenced to jail--all worked for the firm.
My Oldest Brother
There is a story in the Bible about a young man name David who slew a giant name Goliath. My oldest brother was also name David, and he too slew several giants of a different kind. Please allow me to name just a few of the giants that my brother slew.
The name of the first giant was MR. POVERTY, and David slew that giant by being a hard worker. This David who was my oldest brother slew a lot of giants, and I think those who knew him would agree. David slew Mr. POVERTY by taking advantage of every good opportunity that came his way.
The name of the second giant was MR. MAKE US RICH, and he killed that giant by not spending his entire life making other people rich. In stead, he believed in himself and started his own business.
The name of the third giant was MR. RENT RECEIPTS, and he slew this giant by purchasing his own home and other properties. In so doing, he stopped receiving rental receipts and started giving them out to others.
The name of the fourth giant was MR. SELFISHNESS, and he destroyed this giant by helping other family members like myself to better themselves.
The name of the fifth giant was MR. I CAN'T, and he slew this giant by helping me and many others to realize our own success. The jump-start that he gave to others and me enabled us to go as far as our dreams would take us.
The sixth and last giant was name MR. BE LIKE US. My brother David killed this giant, and just like the David in the Bible, he cut his head completely off. This giant wanted everybody to be like him, and David did not try to be like everybody else. He just wanted to be himself and do things his way. I never knew if David had a favorite song, but if I had to guess, it would probably be Frank Sinatra’s song, "I DID IT MY WAY".
10/26/2013 (Contest, Older siblings)