Long Boutiques Poems
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An Artist’s Dream
NYC Culture Collective August 2018
The SoHo District – imagine –
Art center of Manhattan!
Trendy upscale boutiques and
Restaurants, “Ms Yoo” in this plan
It was in August when the art show
Daughter and friend designed it all,
The friend had her book signing,
Daughter kept the event oiled
Watercolors placed artistically
Realistic florals and landscapes
Imaginary scents of roses and lilies
Lined the wall of plenteous space
Ellen and Michael there to sing
Keyboard, guitar and pretty voices
Heightened the evening’s experience
Music softens the day; one rejoices
Thirty or more persons from over the world
Some met for the first time as music played
Many were art knowledgeable;
Friends and guests came, mingled and stayed
It was amazing to think of artwork
As being viewed, discussed and praised!
And, yes, a few originals were sold
From the very spot they were displayed
A thank you to Lance the owner,
Lisa, the daughter and planner,
Patti, the author and friend, and
God our Father, the master designer-
The evening was magical
A make-believe came true,
An elder, budding artist-
A solo art exhibiter sharing anew
Vincent Van Gogh said, “I dream
my painting, and I paint my dream”;
On that night in New York City,
A thought, a dream –blended it seemed
I have come to a strange town
The streets have changed their names
The roads have given ways to gigantic flyovers
The bushes have given ways to codominiums and giant one-stop shopping centres
Few pedestrians on the roads
People are housed under the roofs
They are wearing masks, spectacles, shields and bulky suits
Like astronaunts in outer space
Boutiques replaced seamstresses
Many important posts are monopolied by women
Some men start to wear no-frame spectacles, colourful blouses and do baby-sitting
People said they have a hard time
Although wealth has shifted to this town
Because the prices of commodities are soaring high
Due to the lack of workers
It has been many years before I, a stranger arrived
BONJOUR, MA CHÉRIE!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Val was a young French squirrel, a model quite chic
Who shopped at only high-end, fashion boutiques.
Clerks greeted her, “Bonjour, ma Chérie!
Vous avez l'air belle et aérée!”
“C'est vrai, mes peeps. Wearing Dior gives me a mystique.”
Val struck a pose, paparazzi's camera's flashed,
For being in the limelight she was unabashed.
With a slow turn and flick of her tail,
“You’ll find me trending 24/7, where ‘likes’ prevail!
Look how many followers on Insta I’ve amassed!”
But then the unthinkable happened~
A vile act, a digital fate that had Val saddened.
Poof! In an ‘instant,’ her ‘gram’ account vanished,
For which her digital famish could’nt be vanquished
“Oh woe is me! My heart can no longer be gladdened."
“Lord a mercy, you’ve been hacked!” her publicist did exclaim.
“Tell me, tell me! Who’s responsible for this digital pain?”
“Must ‘a been a hacktivist, a cyber punk perhaps.
Or….did you let your cyber protection app lapse?”
“Oh, no! Hastag #Bonjour,mypeeps, my digital claim to fame.”
*Note: "Instagram is an American photo and short-form video sharing social networking service owned by Meta Platforms. It allows users to upload media that can be edited with filters, be organized by hashtags, and be associated with a location via geographical tagging." (Source, Wikipedia)
In 1878, a gent carrying a cane,
Walked at 6 o’clock, down Ingleburry Lane,
A cobbled street, parading horses and carts,
Where gas lights are placed fifty yards apart.
In 2019, a gent with a phone
Walked down Ingleburry Lane, all alone.
Past the coffee shops and trendy boutiques
In this English town, ever so chic.
And so it was where the Lane met Mill Street,
That these two gentlemen did actually meet,
Crossing over, an anomaly in time,
Through a warped, invisible, pixilated line.
One looked at the other through this time warp illusion,
A look from both of total confusion.
In a flash each was in the other’s place,
In a different year, in an alternate space.
The gent from the past, pocket watch in hand
Tried hard to fathom this alien land
As passers by stared and continually asked
‘Why are you dressed from days gone past?’
And the gent from the future looked all out of sync
With his sneakers, jeans and latte drink
And in his hand a redundant phone
Where he could not call an Uber, to take him home.
Panic ensued as they argued their case
That they shouldn’t be here but in another place
From another time, but it’s hard to persuade
A disbelieving crowd you're trying to evade.
Instinctively both retraced their tracks
To the invisible line, in the hope to go back
And both crossed the line with a nod
and a wink
That a return home was now on the brink.
And so, this strange tale, that on Ingleburry Lane
Two time travelling friends, dress the same
For the appropriate era, so as to mingle with ease
Going about their adventures, however they please.
Don't by me designer clothes, don't give me precious stones, don't need none of that. Take me for a walk on the beach by the cove. I want to feel the rocks beneath my toes.
Don't want to live in a mansion where fake people dwell.
Don't want to rent the penthouse in some fancy hotel.
Build me a shack that has a big wooden beam.
With a large front porch by a flowing stream.
Make me a hammock swinging from a tree.
We will lay in it together just you and me.
Don't want to eat in exclusive restaurants where I cant be myself.
filled with self – important people flaunting their wealth.
Lets sit on a blanket and eat under a shady tree.
Where time is not our master and we can be who we want to be.
Don't want to go shopping in luxury boutiques
Don't want to walk the streets of Champs -Elysees
Don't need no possessions to make me feel good.
Sit me amongst the wild flowers in some over grown wood.
Don't need anyone's approval, don't need to impress
Don't need my nails done don't need no fancy dress.
All the money in the world doesn't make you rich, don't you see,
love is all you need, and its within you and me.
I would like a dream vacation,
Paris is my destination;
For me this would be a delight,
I am ready to book a flight.
I will walk the wide boulevards,
And sneak a peek at nice backyards;
Oh, it would be lovely at night,
I am ready to book a flight.
I would drift on the Seine River,
The Louvre- I would stay ever;
The Eiffel Tower, what a sight,
I am ready to book a flight.
At the Notre-Dame I would pray,
In the boutiques I want to stay;
In an old cemetery- write,
I am ready to book a flight.
And search for my French ancestors,
Unadorned graves with no answers;
Oh, almost there, but just not quite,
I am ready to book a flight.
__________________________
February 4, 2016
Poetry/Verse/Paris, My Destination
Copyright Protected, ID 16- 752-282-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Take A Vacation,
sponsor, Lin Lane
Fifth Place
I have bought in boutiques
on Carnaby street,
stopped in stores galore
on the Champs-Élysées,
shopped 'til I dropped
on Madison Avenue,
and, what's more,
I've been seen to arrive,
fashionably late, on Rodeo Drive,
but one thing I hate,
and doubt I'll see, or there'll ever be,
as there's not much call,
for a linear row of shops downtown,
in a small Möbius strip mall.
Tho' Johann B. Listing (1808 – 1882),
rediscovered the non-orientable surface first,
Mr. August F.Möbius (1790 – 1868)
published his findings earlier and, well-versed,
Euclidean geometry taught he,
while, his wife, Dorothea, danced provocatively,
in pole position, at a nightclub naughty,
and, where out at night, on a fun day trip,
paying punters paid to ogle and view,
the ever-arousing Mrs. Möbius strip.
"Serenity is not found in the absence of chaos, but in the presence of peace." Author Unknown
Seaside villages with boutiques and coffee shops and along the bay with -
Exquisite antiques shops with rare treasures on display.
Reading a good mystery book with an iced coffee treat while,
Enjoying the summer warmth and watching birds perched to eat.
Nights with a full moon and an aurora borealis show with
It’s spectacular northern lights with the sky all aglow.
Time spent at home relaxing with my husband and my pets.
Yearning for continued good health and to live life fully with no regrets!
Urban legend now bared to the bone
Yet its trademark can no larger store clone
No glossy signs, spacious lots fealty to hone
But in colloquial parlance a tradition has grown
Larger Discount stores with dignity stand alone
Corner grocery, its squalid tenement doth bemoan
Manicured plots, concentric lots posh boutiques tone
Corner mart encased in fragile clapboards; skyscrapers of stone
Dilapidated phone booth anchors the curbstone
Squeaky door, bristling bell on entry doth groan
Large retailers, in furnished bakeries bake cakes, fancy scones
Mom and Pop, in one-stove kitchens; yeast rolls, cornbread pone
Serious browsers in large retailers with oversize carts spendthrift prone
At corner store, single-minded shoppers poach sustenance, then are gone
Large franchise with hefty profits and in fertile market sown
Corner grocer in depressed neighborhood; indebted to Savings & Loan
As Memories Fade
Excitement waits
A week on an island vacation
Shopping boutiques and antique stores
Visiting Art galleries
Dinning and enjoy the entertainment
With no cell phones
Slowly escaping
Away from the everyday life
To lull
On the sandy beach
Slowly escaping
Strolling barefoot
Feeling the wet soaking sand
And the cool ocean breeze
Watching the consolations
That is out of reach
Listening to the serenity
Of the night tease
Being entertained
With sounds of the waves,
Shrill of the seagulls, and
Roar and barks of the sea lions
As memories fade
To reteach and reveal who I am
Not wanting to go back to reality
Golden days to remember
© Eve Roper 3/28/2015
Contest: 'Golden Days'
Sponsored by: Rob Carmack