In various places, flowers will grow,
But thrive best in peculiar climates
Most suited for the particular variety.
Narrow margins can be most profitable.
Many flowers are picked in the early mornings
And commercially flown to distant destinations
Where their use is not a luxury but a necessity.
Narrow margins can be most profitable.
The fragrance must hold and be bold, because
Looks alone will not suffice regardless of the
Price if the aroma is not enticing and strong.
Narrow margins can be most profitable.
The merchants' margins may be narrow, but they
Remain worry-free if the flower's fragrance is inviting.
And like magic, profits in other areas are exciting.
Narrow margins can be most profitable.
021824PS
Shameless Foreplay:
With all the crass commercialization of every facet of human culture with which one is confronted in modern media advertising, it comes as a refreshing surprise to encounter a graphic designer who actually understands the crucial interface between ‘above the line’ and ‘below the line’ marketing, while maintaining an intuitive sense of insight into consumer mentality and demographic metrics. Lydia Fox stands apart from the typical Madison Avenue dream peddler. She knows what strikes a spark and isn’t afraid to hawk it like a b*tch in heat. It is with this thought in mind that we bring to you this unrivaled collection of promotional handbills. We hope you use it in a socially responsible and commercially temperate manner. Cheers!
Genuine dollars from just shredded papers!
Risked bloodless jumps from sky scrapers!
A repeated mad stabbing of one’s bowel with a dagger,
one amusedly looking back at the waiters for a stagger;
All, a seeming control of Autonomous Nature,
To the mightily attracted, an enough mental torture.
His bamboozled face sometimes worshipfully handsome
Over a barefaced holding of Nature to ransom…
This, though, a piteous misconstruction of Reality,
As magic remains miles away from Actuality;
Just as Scheming, Ingenious Devil is from God
And a gestured ‘nay’ from ‘a nod’…
In theatres commercially displayed
And in open squares freely replayed,
Faultless jobs that are but a trick,
Disparaging Laws strong like Brick;
Undeserving pockets with money stashing
And deceiving graceful necks garlanding…
If magical powers be Satan’s invention
Then one is a professing achiever of his invention,
At once, his minister
With clearly missions sinister.
Settling for a tomorrow wearing a puncture
And unthinking forfeiture of a happy future.
Bacon sizzling in a pan
The aroma makes one hungry
The smell of cooking anywhere
Enjoyed by all and sundry
Tarmacadam on the road
A very pungent smell
Not everyone likes it
To most, it smells like Hell
Freshly mowed lawns
Have a perfume that delights
All the scents of nature
Are those that excite
Perfumed gardens are amazing
Where colours and scents combine
All perfumed naturally
Beautiful and sublime
Why do we need a product?
Manufactured commercially
When all the most exotic bouquets
Come from nature, and they're free
If you read this poem
I really must confess
It wasn't my intention
To enter this contest
I love the scent of most flowers
Not just one or two
My nostrils enjoy other scents
That they relish too.
Bet your wondering why they're never seen?
The wee leprechauns all wearing the green
Well I'll tell you why
And this is no lie
They're all unconscious from too much Poteen
written 23rd February 2021
Poteen, known as poitin or potcheen, once illegal but now distilled commercially.
It is a very strong spirit once made from potatoes but now more often than not grain is used to distill it.
NOT FOR CONTEST
I thought I wanted to be rich
I thought I wanted to be immortal
I thought I wanted private jets
And golden rings
I thought I wanted to be a movie star
I thought I wanted to be in a commercially successful band
I thought I wanted well toned abs
And twenty inch pythons
I thought I wanted the latest electronics
I thought I wanted a massive mansion in the hills
I thought I wanted a yacht
And a private island
That's what I thought at the age of 20
But here's what I know at the age of 30
I just want to be financially stable
I just want a nice and fulfilling life
I just want a decent car
And useful tools
I just want to be married
I just want to have kids
I just want a photo book full of memories
And room for many more
I just want to have friends
I just want to feel necessary
I just want to never be lonely
And never cry myself to sleep
I guess the thing I desire most of all at age 30
It's quite simply to be happy
Do It Again
When I was little I fell down.
We all did that.
When, we were little.
Later, I fell off…
A ladder, a motorcycle, a cart, a bike,
several other motorized vehicles commercially,
and non-commercially constructed by
back yard engineers of extremely high standing…
at least in Our Corner of the World.
The one common denominator was “get up.”
Get back in it, on it, under it, or where ever you ride it…
and do it again… maybe not that way… however.
Today as I went out to pick up something,
I was not motorized, but there were wheels involved.
Get the mail, get a trash can or other thing…
Bring it back to the house.
That I had done…
ten thousand times before.
Instead I found something new…
Flight.
I also found pavement.
Hard and unyielding,
completely rearranging…
parts…
of me…
A bruise, a scrape and I know an angel limped from the scene.
There were at least a dozen white feathers…
Nothing broken, except my pride.
That is okay. It is useless anyway.
Pong
First commercially successful
Video game technology
Pong arcade video game
Made by Atari
Loved by millions instantly
Started an 80 billion dollar industry
Pong -no Ping-
Just Pong
Simplistic graphics still astound
Mesmerized by the sound
Blip
Blip
Pong, blip
Blip
Pong, blip
Pong, blip
PONG!!!
Hah! Point made
In the shade!
First to eleven
In Pong heaven
Blip
Blip
Pong, blip
Blip
Pong, blip
Pong, blip
PONG!!!
A social lubricant it became
Relationships formed
Playing the game-
Rocking to our favorite songs
Staying awake all night long
Taking turns playing Pong
Pong -no Ping-
Just Pong
“Commercially Successful”
—the metaphysical oxymoron
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Restoring justice to active global peace
invites far more than redistributing toxic injustice,
punishment for dividing cultures of privileged health
from democratic non-elite societies for authentic wealth.
Restoring multicultural justice
brings mutual peace
as communal cooperativity
replaces commercially commodified ego-competitions
for fertile deep learning
internal ego/ecotherapeutic powers.
“Commercially Successful”
—the metaphysical oxymoron
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Major Sir William Newenham Montague Orpen, KBE, RA, RHA (27 November 1878 – 29 September 1931), was an Irish artist who worked mainly in London. Orpen was a fine draughtsman and a popular, commercially successful, painter of portraits for the well-to-do in Edwardian society, though many of his most striking paintings are self-portraits.
His painting inspired this small verse
Commercially,the road wasn't helping,
It wasn't giving basic facts about evil which rise against its walkers,
Birds were making statements to draw our attention towards those melling,
Distraction kept being thrown upon minds of hawkers,
Their selling products were ceased and stolen,
Mouths were opened to chastised against those task force,
It never got them tormented over their indescency at a grinchy remorse,
Traffic jam now kept the scene badly heated at all cost,
Those who won't let go of their avenue for fetching satisfaction made no repose,
Others also kept themselves fully under glope,
Who should be blame?
Who should fulfil the desires of fans to the game?
Policies kept increasing from axis to axis,
Whilst, actually no soul has power over taxes,
Power brought out from the ocean,discriminations and heavy punches,
Out of fed up,war concludes the lives of citizens in there,
There after,the president is pleading and fasting to reflex,
But,it's too late for this insanity man and his fellow leaders,
Indeed,power trends till it breed societal killers.
So let chrish ourselves with equality and live to the fullest.
Barely seconds into something, already hooked.
Why question anything if you know your stuff?
You know best that it’s easy to be overlooked,
Especially when you’re a diamond in the rough.
Undiscovered diamonds are beautiful no less,
Though nobody looks, for it seems a time waste,
It didn’t catch the eye, the moment won’t press,
Still there sits a wonderful creation, ever chaste.
Seemingly distant, yet inside shines with allure,
If not an established masterpiece it is known,
The unfamiliar treasure has naught to reassure,
The hallucination of becoming a precious stone.
All the treasured pieces and items universally,
Either tell a great tale, or will fetch a fine price.
The wallflower diamond untold commercially,
And without a story, could be mistaken for ice.
Who controls our banking?
Ruinous fees for money lending.
Who questions their investing?
Why so dear for money lending?
Who does profit from accounting?
Our finances they're controlling,
While our economy they're ruining,
They're amassing fortunes pecuniary,
Big business for them, commercially.
Let's questions their accountability
For our faceless Australian economy,
Profits overseas they're sending---
So much for Australian banking!!!!!!
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.