Caravan
You don’t pick radishes.
You pull radishes, bent over
Workin’ backwards, ten hours.
Rubber band ‘em by the dozen
Bushel full, boss pays eight bits.
Twenty bushel good day.
Band 99 cents at the Kroger.
Make it to America, land
Of opportunity. Walk for
Your children, pull for your
Grandchildren.
Copyright 2018 Paul M Thomson
The gleaners undirt
these profane candy morphs
as they sift through the fields
in springs and falls.
Apiaceous, mud beige
burrowed beasties, them
bow legged, cowboy pulps;
others with flipped birds
sprung up from their hairy
carrot fists, bronxing to the sun.
You would think they
would be tough, those
mutter udders, those gangsta roots,
but they slice nicely into sticks,
lunch box size, far sweeter
than the common orange of their ilk,
far sweeter than their own
shrubby beards would veil.
Perhaps it’s the extra time
under muck that honeys them up,
dirt balls matriculating,
steeped in their element.
On weekends at the soup kitchen,
late May through long past Labor Day,
we pack the sweet gleaned under-chips
into sack lunches with smoked ham hero’s
and Frito's downtown behind the Kroger
where a sunny civil riot takes
place on Saturdays, and everyone
shows up out of their bag
to pick up the sticks, hungry stomachs,
all blood color-red in the gut
all ready to sit their hells
down…and eat.
A dog! A panic in a pagoda!
A teen named Bob, a can of cream soda.
With one eye shut, he shook and pulled the tab.
The boob was too slow for Cain, choc’late lab.
Cain: a maniac, the mad dog's head swelled;
god’s dog saw the fizz, a rat he now smelled.
He was gigantic, ergo, a ogre -
level headed lab, well-trained at Kroger.
As a new pup, he’d been schooled in shortcuts;
Pagoda’s top spot for all kinds of mutts.
“Go dog, go,” yelled Bob but lost his game plan;
Dog radar kicked in, went straight for the can.
Cain called to his friends, “it’s time, now I won.”.
To idiot teen, he offered more fun.
Wrestling, he tore at Bob’s rotator cuff;
Evil deed done; lab had called the teen’s bluff.
written: May 9, 2018
contest: Palindrome host: Joseph May
Only at Wal-Mart
By Elton Camp
Where you must park a mile away
Beggars are at the doors every day
Vacant shelves all over the store
How can shoppers ask for more
Items out of stock for weeks
A bathroom that, of urine reeks
The brands you want not on display
They force “Great Value” their way
The rollbacks, goodness sakes alive
Was nineteen dollars, now $20.95
Longer to check out than to shop
Long lines make you want to drop
We now shop there less and less
Higher prices not so bad, I guess
Publix and Kroger get our dough
More and more it is becoming so
palindromes
A dog! A panic in a pagoda!
Teenager Rex brought a can of soda;
he shook it up hard and then pulled the tab.
But Rex was too slow for their choc'late lab.
Cain: a maniac, the brown dog's head swelled,
confused by the fizz but a rat he had smelled.
He was a god's dog, ergo, a ogre -
mighty fine watchdog, well-trained at Kroger.
Schooled in their stockroom with all kinds of nuts
whose tricks won ribbons for all kinds of mutts.
Cain's radar kicked in, went straight for the can
and turned it on Rex who lost his game plan.
On the way out, Cain offered some Kleenex.
No one's the wiser, except maybe Rex.
Recording the facts, Cain writes in his log,
Was it a rat I saw? or Am I a dog?
6 palindromes:
A dog, a panic in a pagoda
Cain, a maniac
god's dog
ergo, a orgre
radar
Was it a rat I saw
Kroger, Winn-Dixie, Piggly Wiggly, or Harvey's
All great places to shop
But when the clerk queries 'paper or plastic'
My demeanor makes a terrible hop
I envision my eggs being broken
My 'Little Debbie' cakes soggy and wet
I get upset close to croakin'
But I calm down quickly and don't fret
The clerk gets a real sweet 'no thank you'
And I flash her a dazzling smile
I purchased canvas bags that will do
'Cause I've gone green and in style
Knowing you love me warms me up inside
I know you want to kiss me
Sorry we live so far away
Should I have the choice on were to live I would live right in your arms
Mornings and evening go passing by and my love towards you just grows large
Ever did I think I would fall this deep for some one
Tonight I think of you like I do every day
Here I sit answering your question and
Return it
Uncontrollably my will to kiss you grows
Tormenting me this is
Here and there we both feel the same way
Eternal time is what it feels like to be away from you
Please even if we live far apart text me call me in need you in my life
Happily I will answer your call while
On the phone unexpectedly you tell me
Not to worry so yes I would love to kiss you
Even if we live so far apart so my solution is well baby kiss me thru the phone
This is an answer to Emily Kroger
My Dad drove a big grocery truck,
An eighteen-wheeler it was,
It gave me a thrill just to look at that monster,
But to ride in it gave me a buzz.
Dad drove for the Kroger Grocery stores-
He drove all over the state,
Sometimes sixteen or eighteen hours a day
Just to give people the food which they ate.
I will always have a soft spot in my heart-
For the guys and gals who drive today,
They have to go to school for a start-
Then drive long hours for their pay.
My Dad was a very careful driver-
He only had one accident in sixteen years,
He had driven for fifteen hours with only two hours sleep-
Then dozed off at the wheel which was always something to fear
My Dad worked hard all of his life,
My respect for him grew and grew-
Then as I became older-I realized
What it really meant to be a truck-driver's daughter.