Best Roebuck Poems
In 1890, cowboy Bob Womack found gold at the base of lofty Pikes Peak!
In short order a ramshackle town was founded called Cripple Creek.
Hordes of gamblers, 'soiled doves' and prospectors hopin' to make a buck,
Heeded the call of 'Pikes Peak Or Bust' and fled west to try their luck!
This 'peaked' the interest of a young Hoosier feller named Oliver Pence,
Who ordered a shovel from the Sears Roebuck Catalog for eighty-seven cents.
(He called Cripple Creek, Cripple 'Crick' since that's how Hoosiers speak!)
He strapped the shovel to Fred his mule and headed west his fortune to seek!
Oliver staked his claims and his shovel left many a diggin' 'long the way.
His shafts and holes in the hills and vales can be seen to this very day!
He'd found a few nuggets and a bit of dust but didn't 'mount to much.
What he did find he'd blowed on gamblin', whiskey, wimmen and such!
Often, he'd lean on his trusty shovel and muse 'bout his fate.
He talked to the shovel, sayin, "We ain't had much luck as of late.
We'll winter in the cabin and come spring we'll continue our quest;
I'll strap you on old Fred and we'll head fer them hills to the west!"
Seasons came and went and Oliver wasn't seen 'bout town much anymore.
On a cold and dreary day, friends found him stiff dead on the hovel floor!
They dug his grave with the shovel and buried him outside the cabin door.
Six feet down the old shovel struck gold - the lode he'd been a-lookin' for!
Categories:
roebuck, fate, humorous, mountains,
Form:
Rhyme
The folded corners and wrinkled pages
of catalogs that were tattered and ripped
From the first of October until late in December
we drooled,
we fawned,
we lusted,
we swooned and giggled
mutilating each page
until the pictures faded.
Sears and Roebuck,
Monkey Wards
JC Penny’s,
Macy’s, Mattingly’s, K-mart.
Our wish list grew long
more than one sheet could hold
tears welled up with each toy crossed out.
Until the list was whittle down
Though the likelihood of getting any was nill.
But still
That’s why we called it the book of wishes.
If wants and wishes were hugs and kisses
There would be no need
to thumb through the pictures
and dream.
Perhaps imagination was the best Christmas gift
Categories:
roebuck, christmas, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
After checking the Sears and Roebuck and Montgomery Wards catalogs until their pages were torn and faded, we took one last look at the sales ads in the local newspaper, donned our socks and sandal, and jumped into the station wagon to head out to that brand new shopping place called ‘The Mall’. Wheee doggies it was something. That joint was a jumpin’. It was cool and hip and out of sight. I mean it was really far out man. The mall had everything you could imagine, all in one building. There was store after store jam-packed with VCRs, rotary dial phones, cassette tapes, console TVs, One-Hour Photo, Blockbuster, and Toy’s-R-Us. It seemed like they had everything under the sun ready for a layaway plan.
After paying for the purchases with paper checks written in cursive, we’d head on down to the food court or the all-you-can-eat buffet for lunch. We’d sit on the red plastic-covered chairs and light up a couple of Kents, Chesterfields, Viceroys, Virginia Slims, or maybe some Lucky Strikes. We’d take a couple of pictures with our trusty Polaroid to commemorate the day by adding them to the family photo album. At the end of the day, the kids would jump into the back of the station wagon for a nap while we drove the two-hour-long trip back home. It was a good thing we only had to stop for gas once because, after all that shopping and eating, I only had two dollars left from the fifty we started out with. Seems like the high cost of just living is one thing that will never die.
On Main street’s sidewalks,
the store sign say they are closed,
is Christmas canceled.
Categories:
roebuck, poetry,
Form:
Haibun
(song lyrics)
Verse 1:
Now I can’t go fishin’, ‘cuz ya’ sold my rod and reel
Can’t go snow-racin’, ‘cuz ya’ sold my snowmobile
And I got flaws - that’s for sure - and sometimes run amuck
But the final straw that I can’t take: Ya’ sold my pickup truck
Chorus:
You can burn the house, shoot my dog and stomp my ol’ guitar
But when you sold my pickup truck, well, Honey, ya’ went too far
Verse 2:
I didn’t care when ya’ bought that stuff on TV’s QVC
Or ‘cause ya’ always thought of me as your private Money Tree
Or catalog-orderin’ ever’thing from within ol’ Sears Roebuck
But I’ll be danged if I’ll sit still since ya’ sold my pickup truck!
Chorus:
You can burn the house, shoot my dog and stomp my ol’ guitar
But when you sold my pickup truck, well, Honey, ya’ went too far
Verse 3:
So I went and saw a gypsy gal, and a curse on you imposed
To put sand in your chewin' gum and runners in your panty hose
And all your clothes and accessories to never, ever match
And chiggers in your bed sheets - so you’ll always have to scratch!
Chorus:
You can burn the house, shoot my dog and stomp my ol’ guitar
But when you sold my pickup truck, well, Honey, ya’ went too far
Verse 4:
I seen ya’ last Saturday night at Bubba’s Bar and Grill
The image of you in stripes and checks remains within me still
And them red chigger welts upon your nose and face
Tells me that the gypsy curse is workin’ ever’ place!
Chorus:
You can burn the house, shoot my dog and stomp my ol’ guitar
But when you sold my pickup truck, well, Honey, ya’ went too far
Categories:
roebuck, anger, conflict, fun, funny,
Form:
Lyric
It's a hanging day in Wolf City, Wyoming, 1894.
They're gonna drop Cat Ballou through the gallows' floor.
Cat your time has come as you stand on the brink.
It's sure making you think
about your life of sin.
Why are they now going to hang you and how did you begin?
Catherine Ballou lived in Wolf City, Wyoming
and folks here in Wyoming
live high off the hog.
That brand new firm Sears & Roebuck send them their catalog.
It's an upright town with kind, wonderful people,
reliable people,
friendly as can be.
When they say "Howdy" they mean it. Yep they are neighborly.
If only Cat had behaved,
these folks would befriend her.
If Cat had behaved,
their hearts they would lend her,
but Cat was depraved,
and to hell now they'll send her.
She could have lived like others do.
Cat Ballou,
you're wicked through and through.
They'll now be hanging Cat Ballou.
On a mournful day she became part of a legend.
The real start of a legend
known as Cat Ballou.
When captains of industry
killed her daddy
it filled her heart with a hate that grew.
There are teardrops in her heart
but they can't make her cry.
She refused to fall apart.
They'll never make her cry.
She's lost all the family she's known
and her tears will turn to stone.
All the teardrops in her heart will never make her cry.
It's not very hard to grieve
when you're a little girl.
She refused to give up and leave
after they shattered her world.
They made a little girl feel
like a woman hard as steel,
and no matter how they try,
they'll never make her cry.
When you've got no tears, then you've gotta have something.
Hate really is something.
Blood is what you need
and Cat Ballou made her mind up to make this country bleed.
It took a crafty female brain
to stage the holdup of a train.
She planned it to the last detail
until it couldn't fail.
This dash and daring desperado
led her outlaw gang with cool bravado.
They all would follow where she'd lead.
They made the country bleed.
Round and round and round they went
till man and gal and beast were spent.
Round and round and round they rode.
Oh what an episode.
The Ballad of Cat Ballou
Continued in Part 2
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=263894
Categories:
roebuck, cowboy-westerncat, heart, cat, day,
Form:
Rhyme
They ask, "What's the sweetest thing that's happened to you"?
I would have to reply, "It started when I was two".
That is when I, Mother, sister and brother,
went to live with our Grandpa and Grandmother.
They both sacrificed, from that day forward,
working long, hard hours, always undeterred.
To give us a home and happy memories.
It couldn't have been better, for Mom and us three.
Mom worked evenings at the Sears and RoeBuck store.
Grandpa at the publishers, working on the printing floor.
Grandma changed jobs to the school cafeterias,
so when we were home from school, she could be near us.
Grandpa was our dad, in our hearts and minds.
Growing up with two Moms was a terrific time.
Yes, living with our Grandparents was a special world.
I grew up to be a very thankful girl.
What's the sweetest thing that has ever happened?
It started when I was two, and has never slackened
For the contest'Sweetheart"
Hosted by Tirzah Conway
Placement: 5th place
Categories:
roebuck, familyhome, home,
Form:
Rhyme
WELL-WRITTEN
Eighteen times he lied and he had nine lives to live.
He got shot and became a better man.
But oh, he was in a schizophrenic mind where his thoughts were awe-inspiring.
He was one that loved to nature walk.
He would set goals for himself and do his best to accomplish them.
Yet, he never achieved anything big, but what he did made him somebody.
You would see him articulating like a university professor.
He was ever-changing in his expressions and gestures.
His parents named him Andy and Billups is the surname.
He occupied his time as a Sears and Roebuck home improvement representative.
He did very well in sales and marketing.
Andy strived to be that perfect family man.
Of course, he is happily married and has one child.
Andy spends a lot of quality time.
He says family matters as owning your own home is the biggest investment to booth today.
Hence, he must be more conscientious about his way of making a way out no way.
He has a reputation that he feels is vast and wide.
He has the willpower and the courage of a creative mind.
Andy is maturing in his determination of protecting his wants, needs, and desires.
But oh, you may ask why Andy is important.
Why did you desire to share him with us?
It is about the image presented.
Well-written is the thingamajigism.
Andy Billups provides his life-force and his essence.
Thus, sharing it is within diversity.
And therefore, an inner core of humanity has been titivated.
________________________________________________________|
Written March 04, 2016!
Categories:
roebuck, appreciation, character, gospel, hilarious,
Form:
Epic
Mary, Mary
Mary, Mary, where yall be
Behind the shed I see
Sitting on a bucket
Two shakes and blow
Snakes eyes rolls
Mary, Mary, where yall be
Gosh darn, dang it
Wrestling with Billy
over a piece of watermelon
One lick to the eye
cheek swell , black eye
Mary, Mary, where yall be
I havn’t got a lick of work out of yall
dern tootin, when I gits yall ,
Yall find yourself in a heap of trouble
Yall britches won’t have
a Sears and Roebuck book
© Eve Roper 4/21/2015
Categories:
roebuck, girl,
Form:
Free verse
Slim's cowboy hat warn't no fancy Stetson, that's fer shore!
He'd paid five smackeroos fer it in a Sears 'n' Roebuck store.
But it served him jes as well through his cowboyin' years,
Roundin' up, ropin' 'n' brandin' cantankerous longhorn steers.
It didn't have no fancy rattlesnake band er feathers in its crown,
But its droopy brim shaded his mug when the sun came bearin' down.
It'd been stomped on, rained on 'n' sweat-stained 'n' looked a fright,
Drug through manure 'n' mud, well-stained from its original white!
Besides protectin' his vulnerable skull from the rain, snow 'n' hail,
He found many creative uses fer the old hat ridin' a cowpoke's trail.
It was useful fer feedin' oats to his long-sufferin' horse, old Nell,
And dippin' drinkin' water from a stream - it served both of them well.
It held water fer Slim when he took an occasional shave,
And I 'spose could've been used fer a much-needed lave!
It was good fer swattin' flies 'n' mus-skeeters from Slim's face,
And givin' Nell a whack on her rump when givin' dogies chase.
The hat shaded Slim's face from the sun when takin' a snooze,
But it shore got in the way when with his gal he desired to schmooze!
When he came to the end of the trail the hat was buried with him.
St Pete said, "Howdy! But we gotta do somethin' 'bout yer hat, Slim!"
Categories:
roebuck, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Experiment, the worth of kings,
no bonafide adventuring
not impinge, glory, noticing,
the trial of "over" ~ SING, BUT SING!
And over, 'til the mode be right,
that last decision, still up tight.
I've felt it oft, all nerves on edge,
have gone too far, my reasons dredge!
It is Inventing, cant resign,
the pulse of difference is my rhyme,
I'll just dive in, for one more time,
then still dig in, this idea's mine!
What closer skill can Man divine,
than right to change, with purpose fine,
not to relinquish my own kind
but build with vision, some new find!
To heal some soul . . . . from mortal bind!
Working with Inventors from the Midwest, some Immigrants, some of the ideas we saw become developed were ~ The radial tire, the round swing, round hay bale,
vise-grip, portable phone, highway breakers, tarps for Semis, ethanol plants, water cleaning equipment, faux diamonds, negative ion air machines, compost ideas, turn signals for autos. We worked on Patents in Omaha, Nebraska ~ Inventors from Denmark, etc. Ideas built America, Corporations like Sears Roebuck, helped the little guy. Let's get America back to those "ideals!"
Categories:
roebuck, adventure, dream, freedom, imagination,
Form:
Monorhyme
Theres no getting away from it,
no one is excluded,
sooner or later during
the course of the day,
everyone has to use it,
it first came on the scene
in the year 1857,
when Joseph Gayetty
showed his new paper invention,
the consumers didn't buy much
because of the cost,
so Joseph did away with it
and considered it a loss,
then in 1890 the Scott brothers
came out with their product,
finally convincing the public
to get on the ball and a roll
to becoming more hygienic,
but in 1928 they had competition,
when Charmin arrived in the stores,
it was like having a softer twin sister,
who could ask for anything more...
then if you were around in 1978
who could forget this commercial,
"please don't squeeze the charmin,"
starring a Mr. Whipple,
and of course today,
there is a much wider tp variety,
that is on display at the store,
I'm just so glad it was invented
to help get to the bottom
of a some what stubborn society,
making tp on our shopping list
a number one priority,
and don't want to sound like a snob,
but thank God we don't have
to resort to still be using
torn out pages from
the Sears and Roebuck Catalog!
Its the toilet papers almost 160th birthday for all you history buffs out there!
(Something like that…not sure of the correct age!)
Categories:
roebuck, birthday, history, humor, tribute,
Form:
Light Verse
Wood Storks rock! They skewer
the word purer with a white-
on-white the envy of any housewife's
Monday wash, or laundry delivered home
by women with baskets on their heads
after drying in the noonday sun
in which only mad dogs and Englishmen go out,
(or those with no Sears Roebuck
connections).
Take heed, Ye hawkers of detergent
wares, lascivious for new insignia.
Send old trademarks to old obliv-ia,
Take a winged design to fly away grime.
And, while you're at it, add the color
red for bloodshed in the marketplace,
perfect hue for Madison Avenue.
In tropic times, our storks,
shelve safe haven from the branches
on which no one lays laundry-- only their
flawless selves. They know a storm
with a woman's name can put to shame
all others, and when Beryl's done
and on the run, they return to bond in
motherland, the moment seized:
a genetic lust for oedipal trees.
Categories:
roebuck, nature, old, old,
Form:
Romanticism
P OVER-PRICED IN CHRISTMAS
To hell with Hallmark and their bourgeois cards of greeting
Sent to wives from guilty husbands who are always cheating
Or to that teenage blonde who wiggles for older men only
Sent from a young teenage boy who she leaves lying lonely
To hell with Macy’s and their senile Santa in a cheap suit
To hell with their sales with which honesty has a major dispute
I have no tears for Sears and no bucks for Roebuck too
And to The Home Depot and Loews I say to both buck you
The commercials on television go on adfinitum
While commercialism and greed become an item
There’s fake snow and snowballs that never melt
While the Santa in Macy’s is made to tighten his belt
Wal-Mart and K-Mart both sell the same damned crap
But at Macy’s your little brat can sit on Senile Santa’s soiled lap
These are all places where compassion and Christmas spirit is defied
And I don’t think a really good Christmas sale is why our savior Jesus died
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE….~free cee!~
Categories:
roebuck, angst, christmas, christmas, teenage,
Form:
Quatrain
The World of the One Percent
By Elton Camp
The super rich is who these folks are
More wealthy than old Croesus by far
They reside in the most fabulous estate
Privacy protected by a guarded gate
A mansion with elevators & indoor pool
Where as kings and queens they rule
Sparkling clean and always kept that way
By staff: butler, maids, cooks and the valet
“The master is quite indisposed,” they say
To any who may attempt to visit that day
Breakfast in bed they can anytime enjoy
Where they is nothing around to annoy
Even doctors willingly pay them a house call
As do stylists, masseurs, barbers—one and all
Personal shoppers go out to buy their clothes
Unless a tailor comes—it’s sure one of those
For it is only poor folks, down on their luck
Who have go and shop at Sears & Roebuck
Since only the little people pay income tax
In carrying their fair load they are found lax
Certainly, no self indulgences do they spare
For the uncouth masses they have little care
Unless James brings around the limousine
It’s in a mere $200,000 car they are seen
A world of incredible privilege is theirs
Where they relax without having any cares
Categories:
roebuck, funny, world,
Form:
Rhyme
His the archer’s bow, straight his arrowhead
on foot and trail swift as the running deer,
and long his hair the eagle feathers spread
in the buckskin war bonnet he does wear.
My boy the dreamcatcher, the hunter brave
in buffalo horn and porcupine quills -
ghost of the warrior chief in the grave
whose heart lies on the plains and in the hills.
Where beats a drum and burns a campfire -
a child of the Great Spirit in the sky,
like the roebuck leaping farther, higher,
chasing a dream in the wind and the rye.
You are the Indian bark, the sacred tree,
a totem from the depth and breadth of me.
Written: March 2013
Categories:
roebuck, birthday, son,
Form:
Sonnet