Best Shop At Poems
Bullet Proof
If I was a bullet I would travel real fast
Take showers in the past
Use gun powder to keep me dry
Shop at Target
And avoid people at all cost
If I was a bullet I would buy a gun
A small one, for company
Challenge Superman to a race
Or simply let him leap tall buildings, if he were so inclined
As I leap to my own conclusions by his side
If I was a bullet I would go to Mexico
Drink tequila real slow to get inebriated
Finish off bottles of 90 proof vodka to prove a point
That I can become bullet proof in any old joint
9/01/14 The Poet - Poetry contest
Before reading this one read part one, the story will make more sense.
I felt safe amongst the colorful pages of the comic books wrapped around me. I could hear the little boy say bye to his grampa Cliff, his Grandpa said goodbye Ricky. There was a wonderful bouncing feeling as Ricky skipped out the door to his father's waiting car. As we started driving away Ricky pulled me out of the bag and I could see his mom, dad, sister and brother. As we drove along I learned the other boy was Roy and the little girl was Teresa. His parents simply were mom and dad.
I quite enjoyed the ride, Ricky's dadio had a need for speed and it was exciting passing the slower cars. In this world it seemed all of the other cars were slower. The first town we came to was Larder lake, if blinking had been possible I would have missed it. As Ricky looked through me I marveled at both the color of his eyes and the rugged landscape. Pine trees, poplar trees and beautiful lakes. I loved how the road was carved through sections of rock. The next small town I noticed was King Kirkland, it seemed rather little to be a King. It wasn't very long and we entered our destination which was Kirkland Lake.
Kirkland Lake was much bigger than where we had come from. I enjoyed watching the people as we traveled down Government Road West. I remember driving past restaurants and stores, Dadio slowed down to point out a diner called the Coffee Cup. He told us he had a Barber Shop at the back of the Diner, I was more interested in the theatre across the street. The theatre was called the Strand and I liked the flashing lights on the billboard. Just then Ricky placed me back in the paper bag with his comics so I slept for a while.
Orange Crush III to follow.
Only six months 'til Christmas...
Yes, just six months to go-
I'd best start making lists,
Buying bottles for' ‘rellies' who like to get pissed
And scouring for bargains at Tesco.
Only six months since the last one
And I've just finished paying the bills-
The credit card's clear
(Like that barrel of beer),
And I feel a bit green 'round the gills.
I'd better start writing cards soon;
(It’s much harder nearer the time)
But I just hope nobody dies:
Last year I sent Brenda's too early,
And her wake got quite a surprise:
Reading cards by the coffin,
Expecting sombre tones,
It said "Hope you get drunk
And make whoopee with Dunk! "
P.s. You know how to have a good time!'
It's only six months 'til Christmas.
I hardly remember why
We prepare for so long,
Get stressed when it goes wrong
It makes me just want to cry!
It's six months since the last one
And I forgot to send the socks to Uncle John.
I found them in the drawer,
Stuck right near the floor.
Never mind, I'll re-wrap them anon.
I know I sound like a miser
And it's the season of generosity,
But it's hard to be carefree
When I can only shop at Aldi
And my income is almost all gone.
This year I promise to be
More organised,
Thoughtful and full of good cheer.
Well... promises are made to be broken.
And anyway, there's always NEXT year!
Copyright Emily Joshua
Written by Gail DeBole on October 3, 2010
Updated March 14, 2020
There once was a lady named Aula
Who loved to shop at the Mall-a.
She shopped ‘til she “dropped.”
She shopped and she shopped
Every Spring, Summer, Winter and Fall-a.
Christmas time put her skills to the test.
It was when Aula proved she was best.
The crowds stood amazed.
Aula could shop for days
Without losing her holiday zest.
Part of the Portrait Poetry Collection
I may look crazy,
but this is just a disguise...
I shop at Target!
For "Going Halloween Haiku Crazy" contest sponsored by Poet Destroyer ~ A.
Far away in a little town tucked in the corner of a map
Lives the girl who ruined his heart
And broke his life
While with him she would smile and laugh so sweet
Tender as only she could be
In his heart she lit even the corners so deep
With time she became his definition of life
In all he did he had her in mind
Life wasn’t life without him seeing her smile
As moments grew into weeks
The flower of his heart started to reveal its wilt
In her eyes no longer was the sparkle he was used to seeing
Winds carried awful odour of their disorder
Tales went round of her illicit exploits behind the counter
The man with the shop at the corner savoured all the honey she offered
At first he dismissed the whispers with laughter
But soon he discovered he was the only one on the other side of reality’s border
Yes indeed, another prince had taken over
Trouble was how sincerely he loved her
Problem was that even she had only love to offer
Issue was he hadn’t yet sold a dime of the books he authored
Come on folks! Everybody come on over here!
I’m one of the coolest poetic vendors all throughout the year!
Midnight , anniversary , summer and all kinds of seasons sales,
I’m sure you’ll enjoy shopping here while saving up your bills.
My spiritual uplifting poems are 80 percent discount offer,
For whole sale, take freely my dog who is so expert in prayer.
Take my poems about friendship and love as much as you want,
Like sharing half of my heart to you, that’s 50 percent discount.
Special poem, My Name and poems dedicated to special friends,
They are out of stocks, but you can make an order if you can.
My poems all about arts, music, nature and mysteries of life,
Biggest discount I’ll give, all have been displayed in my big shelf.
The poems which express my joys, sadness, and my pains,
Buying them in retail price, take freely My Stupid Boyfriend.
Life is real Good while you shop at LG’s Poetry Department store,
Grab my Garage Sale now! You’ll regret if you postpone or ignore!
Written: Sept . 13, 2012
First Place
Contest: Poets Garage Sale
Judged:10/23/2012
Poet Sponsor: Poet SKAT
My dearest Anna,
It has been three Tuesdays since I lost you.
I will never forget seeing you, just lying there.
I went to our regular coffee shop, at the regular time.
For the second week in a row I ordered both of our drinks.
It has been seven episodes of that show you like, since I lost you.
For that matter most of the things on the DVR were yours.
I’m just not ready to delete them, it’s the little things.
I don’t think I can just yet.
It has been nine Saturdays since I lost you.
The drugstore called yesterday and said
your medicine was ready.
I picked it up.
It has been four paydays since I lost you.
I roamed the store parking lot looking for a space
that didn’t remind me of you.
Bought the peanut butter you like.
knowing how you crave your midnight snack.
It is the first Thanksgiving since I lost you.
Dinner at my parents was nice
but not one person mentioned you.
I called and canceled Christmas with your parents.
They said they understood.
It has been nineteen Sunday
walks in the park since I lost you.
More than once my friends told me
it is time to pick up and move on.
What is so important about moving on?
I lost someone I love. It’s not like I can stop
loving you and find someone else.
It has been half a year of mornings
waking up and not seeing you asleep.
Many a morning I watched you sleep.
You are more than someone
I wanted to spend my life with.
You were a comfort, a constant, a habit.
It has been five months since
I have heard you tell me you love me
and the memory is starting to fade. I can’t lose it too.
It has been one hundred seventy four days,
sixteen hours and twenty-one minutes since I lost you.
To him.
mall security
the other law enforcement
you can shop at ease
I am a drunken pen, or at least thats what they call me in the betting shop at 4.55pm on a Saturday afternoon. Kept deep inside the cavity of a old polyester jacket to converse with a packet of wrigley's extra strong mints in the dark. I often find myself just listening intently to my master as he begins the day in articulated fashion, and slowly slivers his way towards a gibbering wreck of despair & destruction. He is struggling desperately to make ends meet, as i frequently share space with 1p & 2p. Yesterday i heard him chatting to himself in the kitchen whilst trying to open a tin of spaghetti hoops. Bills haven't been paid in weeks, and the odour that fills the atmosphere can only be matched by that in the backstreets of Calcutta...not that i've been there to experience the aroma.
My use is simple, i write bets! nothing more, nothing less. Starting the day in a elegant manner and posture my nib floats around the paper like a ice skater at the Montreal Olympics, and quite often i will polish the ego by scoring myself 6.0,6.0,6.0 for artistic impression. But as the hours roll by, and my master takes in the full range of liquid refreshment i find that my posture and style have deserted my being within three turns of a clock face. My master is slowly sinking into the abyss of life, and he sits in the towering inferno of middle aged obsurity with no exits. Everytime i appear from the deep well of his pocket i continually keep praying that this journey shall be my last. Maybe i will break, maybe i will have a blockage. Or even better than that, my master may be fortunate to win a cascading amount of money that prompts him to fling me to the gates of pen eternity allowing the master to purchase the Rolls Royce of pens....The Parker!
Until that moment arrives i will continue to be everything my master wishes me to be. Because at the apex of this life's voyage, i am only as good as my master's intensions.
Bless China and Mao Zedong
I have partly decorated my Christmas tree bless the Chinese for
the blinking fairy light, blue and yellow strings I think symbolise angels’ hair
not that I have seen any angels with blue-rinsed hair.
I haven`t put up any baubles this year it is a bother to put them on the twigs.
My shoes are bought in the same shop they are ok, but don`t last long,
I feel guilty now my socks and undergarment are made in China
that is how you destroy a country`s economy buying from abroad; it`s cheaper
for us on the low income, it is a vicious circle, more people get laid off they have
little money and had to but underwear and socks shop at a Chinse shop.
The wage for workers in the USA is now so cheap Pakistani factories are moving to
Detroit and Michigan, but for it to succeed the Americans have to build better
roads and new bridges. I digress the tree is fit for purpose comes in 3 sections and can
easily be kept in the shed until next year.
So bless the Chinse for making our Christmas possible this year too
What You Get Free From Wal-Mart
By Elton Camp
Once you had to pay to see the freak show
Now enjoy it free when to Wal-Mart you go
The fat lady is longer found only at a fair
Go to Wal-Mart and she will be there
Likewise for the Wild Man from Borneo
At Wal-Mart he is anytime that you go
To the cooch show you once paid admission
In Wal-Mart, the sluts are on free exhibition
Many customers will range from X to PG
Shop at Wal-Mart and see it all for free
My house was made
for a family of three
So it turns out to be
two little doggies and me
When I shop at the grocery store
in my mind I can't ignore
Will the pooches like this too
It's something that I often do
Water bowls here and there
milkbones buried under chairs
The couch I cannot recline
because a doggy bed you'll find
Toys toys chewed and new
overflow the house and in shoes
Please do not sneeze
or dog hairs dance and tease
Two little doggies wagging tails
run about for doggy thrills
Yap and bark growl and fight
and that's just the start of night
When I lay down to sleep
I force my form to be more petite
For laying long across the bed
two little doggies from toe to head.
The sweet shop stood at the end of his road
He passed it every day
He passed it on the way to school
And on his way home again
He knew the man who worked in there
He seemed a jolly sort
He had a big red smiley face
That welcomed you into his shop
His mom had told him not to stop
His dinner would be ready
He shouldn’t fill his tummy yet
But ooh they did look yummy!
He pressed his nose against the window
To see the treats inside
The shelves were full from top to bottom
And bursting from side to side
And all of a sudden he found himself
Walking through the door
The temptation had proved just too great
For someone who’s only four!
So many sweets he could choose from
He didn’t know where to start
He really liked the pink and white mice
Though he never could tell them apart
Maybe he should have a sherbert dip
That made his finger yellow
Or chocolate éclairs that stuck to his teeth
Or milkshakes or mushrooms or jello
He finally decided on jelly babies
Because he liked them best!
He rummaged around in his deepest pocket
And found just fifty pence
Would that be enough, he wondered
He kept his fingers crossed
He walked very slowly up to the counter
To find out how much they cost
“Excuse me mister”, he politely asked
“Could you tell me how much these are?
I hope they’re not more than fifty pence
Cos I don’t want a chocolate bar”
“Now then young man”, the smiley man said
“I’ve got good news for you
Your jelly babies come to forty nine pence
And I’ll give you some gobstoppers too!”
“Ooh thank you, thank you, thank you”, he said
As he jumped up and down like a spring
“I’ll be back to your shop at the end of next week
To buy some more yummy things!”
My husband and I often walk down to the local corner shop at dusk to pick up a couple off ice-cold beers. There’s this little house with a white picket fence where a tiny dog with a loud bark lives. As soon as he gets a whiff of us he goes absolutely berserk. Here’s what I imagine he is saying.
The little dog sees legs:
Hey, hey, hey, stop, stop, wait a minute you guys, HEY! HEEY! Where are you going? Take me with you. Stop, stop for a minute. For the love of God STOP! Murder! Do did you hear me buddy? I said Murder! Murder! There’s been a brutal bloody murder! My masters buried in the back garden. Under the roses. I saw my new master kill him. I am living with a murderer! HELLO! There’s a man buried in the garden and no one listens to me. What is wrong with you humans? Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me? I’m a dog for Christ’s sake we see everything. I’m so stressed out right now. So stressed out. I think I’m next. Take me with you, please! Why aren’t you stopping?
The legs pass:
Dead silence.