Clientele Poems | Examples

Night Crawler Nell a Crabby Courtesan

a crabby courtesan does not do well
when her meanness is seen by clientele
the one I knew named angry night crawler Nell
was so grouchy, she was a very hard sell
the Madame found her a new place to dwell
No one knows what happened to nasty old Nell

Driven Fate

Wind, the Barber,
   shears the trees
   decisively
with naught but
   his own  Fall design
   in mind,
Refusing imaged   glass
   for his reluctant clientele,
insisting    they trust
   his ancient  artistry,
Born of  a driven 
   fate again
   and again.

Canary in a Coal Mine

She wandered like a gypsy to Wyoming,
Where she settled in and sojourned for a spell.
She found herself a billet at the Hog Ranch,
And son, there weren’t no high-tone clientele.
It was just a soiled dove’s privy crib
Where Martha Jane set up her chicken coop.
She was a cowhand’s heartthrob,
All buckskin and sutler whiskey.
She could drive a team of oxen.
She could drive a man to sin.
Times she frequented Old Bedlam,
Drillin’ with them soldier boys;
Some were galvanized Yankees,
Some were mere tenderfoot lads.
When she wasn’t barkin’ at a knot,
She’d be somewhere raisin’ sand.
She considered each calamity
That buggered her contentment
As just another maverick to brand.

The Brothers Death

A brotherly jaunt through sinister mirth
behold the brothers Death: 

gowned and guided, an ill century
the fourteenth, an alliance of crop, of plague
in ground-down death of torrential pains 
in sores and blood under the rains
that drowned the land, starved the bellies
there echoed howls of ill exclaim
a wanting of a light to shine 
is where the brothers thought that they
worked well together, effectively

one would scoop from ruined crop
one from sickness, war, attack
the beak, a sign, of the plague mask
in shacks, where hags mopped weeping rot
crosses on doors, on floors of straw
with nothing in the cooking pot
the brothers danced and sang their wealth
of many clientele they sought

and on they went, and on they struck
perfecting songs on appetites
of pestilence and of disease
hand in hand like trees whose leaves
do smother, smite, in murderous breeze
the brothers, down the ages tease
and beckon, wreaking havoc on, 
like rolling waves of seas on high
always taunting their sister - life

Annabel

When she was three, my daughter got a doll
and took her to bed with her every night.
And she'd rarely leave it out of her sight,
they were inseparable, I recall.

Around five, she named her doll Annabel
and would host tea parties for her best friend.
But only they were allowed to attend,
an elite and selective clientele.

When she became a teenager, she placed
Annabel, on a shelf in her bedroom.
But she kept moving her to make more room,
and eventually, she was misplaced.

One day I was cleaning out the attic,
and I found Annabel in an old trunk.
And I rescued her from that trunk of junk,
knowing my daughter would be ecstatic.

My daughter was so overjoyed to see
her lost doll Annabel; she held back tears.
And to see them together after years
of separation was touching for me.

New Elizabethan Britain

The quick fix had worked so
She slipped the needle away,
Her little liquid friend that helped 
Through each long working day.
A toot of the horn told her
He’s out there with her lift
For her to work the punters
From the pub leaving shift.

Only a whore they said
When the body was found,
A battered shop mannequin
Lying on  waste ground.
With their numbers cut the
Police couldn’t do much more
And, as the papers had said,
She was only a whore.

Somebody said there
Was a child somewhere
Quietly and efficiently
Taken into care.
Three girls at the funeral 
Hardly a significant memoriam
Then she was ushered off
To the local crematorium.

A cup of tea in a cafe 
In memory of a working mate
Quickly slurped down as 
The afternoon was getting late,
The girls went back to work:
With their habits to feed	
Any fear they may have felt
Overcome by addiction’s need.

Not  high class call girls
With upper class clientele 
Just a poor exploited women
With only one thing to sell.
So, Austerity still rules,
Unfair decisions are made,
And poor women are still driven 
To the rough end of the trade.

Light Bulb Thinker

Light Bulb Thinker settled down to concentrate on work
Ideas were parading, from his job he did not shirk.
Librarians hushed their clientele, so LBT could think.
Phrases and vocabulary came to him in green, yellow and pink.

Wonder what is happening? Another thinker asked.
Not sure, said the book worm, is he comfy and masked?
Does he have to be? A patron asked in a hushed tone.
They watched the amazing thinker, as he sat still as stone.

Off To School

OFF TO SCHOOL

So you're off to boarding school,
It'll be the making of you, my lad,
Muses the bespectacled gentleman,
Sat behind his morning paper, 
The commuter train steaming 
Its trundling way
Past opened curtains 
Of genteel suburbia.

Familiarly hypnotic rhythm 
From the clickety-clacking track
Continues, scarcely heeded 
By the carriage's motley clientele, 
Disturbed from comatose reveries, 
Enduring the drilled strains 
Of unwelcome conversation.

Hostile eyes look up in 
Bristling annoyance
At a shy, enclosed boy, 
Who keeps locked-in silence 
On his first uncertain foray
Into the strange world beyond 
The comfortable boundaries
Of his homely playpen.

July Joy

July Joy 

July arrives spreading county fair spells
Pink chubby pigs and roan cows with cowbells
Excitement grows in fields and through the dells
Gold medal livestock for new clientele.

Hear the music of the carousel
Take a ride on Ferris wheels air cells
Take a chance on arcade games as well
Knock down all the bottles then ring the bell.

Revel in corn dogs and cotton candy smells
Sweet corn and cakes – prize winning show and tell
Jams and jellies with blue ribbons excel
Crisp green apples coated with caramel.

Rows of prized roses and vases of bluebells
Honorable mentioned quilts shaped like seashells
First place red barn paintings, sunset pastels,
County fairs with fireworks sheer joy foretells.

8-1-22
Contest: Christmas in July or July Celebration
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin

Rhymes checked with www.rhymezone

Through My Crystal Ball Darkly

Europe won't survive a cold winter
  Israel's and Saudi's ties to us grow thinner
Latin America now under communism's spell
  Iran, India, Turkey among Russia's clientele

Mr. Putin's grand strategy now nearly in place
  Come say a prayer for the human race
Ukraine can't hold out forever
  After that, watch Vladimir pull his levers

Either the United States grows a spine
  Or soon on potatoes and cheap vodka we dine



 ~ Bone up on your Russian, Comrades! ~

Sapphire Five Star Hostel

Stale Stories you had better not tell 
About Sapphire Five-Star Hotel,
Long enjoying An Impressive Clientele,
One to spot in her some Smiling Belle.

Sapphire can’t one front with Deceit,
For take-away, A Talking Receipt;
Where all cars are parked at Hotel’s risk
And one plays one’s badly corrupt disk,
Not because she knows by half Virus:
Customers should be spared King Cyrus!

Sapphire swimming pools “The Full”
All of them with a magnetic pull;
To users selling Ideas of Sex
They can’t have with Cameras that vex…

In Sapphire, always The Classic
Targeting her clients a bit sick
And fixing of The Roaring Event
To Some Scandalous Dullness prevent?

So, after all these about Sapphire
Would you such property acquire?

A Greedy Fellow

Cowardly this loathsome fellow
In old west they’d call him yellow
I guess that was his biggest flaw
Jealous greater than Othello

He wanted more, the more he saw
Hauling around his gaping jaw
What’s to come of this man of greed
Lied until his scruples were raw

He stole from innocents in need
It would run green if he did bleed
So a deal with the devil struck
To warnings he refused to heed

After years of passing the buck
It seems this man ran out of luck
His broker dragged him down to hell
One more trade up a sleeve to pluck

Scamming incoming clientele
He found a job he could do well
Now he is Satan’s man in charge
Of telemarket personnel

Roomba Escape

A Roomba* in England went AWOL;
It disappeared from a hotel. 
They searched high and low 
All the spots it might go 
With no help from the whole clientele.

The word got around as expected
As well-wishers cheered its escape;
But employees allege
It was found ‘neath a hedge,
None the worse for its trip, not a scrape.

Now it’s back with its friends in a closet,
Consigned to the rooms on the floor;
Yet it will not forget
What it did, but I’ll bet
It’s the vacuum that Nature’d abhor.

*a robot vacuum

The Spa: Fibonacci-Rhyme

*Image of Spa Coconut Bath Tubs by Pixabay.

The Spa: Fibonacci-Rhyme

The
Spa
when used
be confused
by most first-timers
yet not a case for old-timers.
As timetables vary per clients customary,
employees plan on weekly, shifts expected, with clientele care to be primary.

2022 January 14

HMS; 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, syllables.

Street Life

A box made of cardboard with nothing inside
Came from a shop where white-goods are supplied 
The high street still busy but less than before
When I used to manage the furniture store

The shoppers are rushing to spend lots of cash
They're choosing gifts hoping their choices aren’t rash
The street lamps are lighting as dusk rears its head
And queues in the take-outs await to be fed

Folk rushing now to be home with their kin
Where cosy and warm they will lock themselves in
The pub opens up for its late clientele
I’d go there each evening and lunchtime as well 

Crowds thinning out as the cold starts to bite
And my box made of cardboard is home for the night

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