Long Emporium Poems
Long Emporium Poems. Below are the most popular long Emporium by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Emporium poems by poem length and keyword.
The stock of the rifle is hand-selected walnut.
I polish it with a soft cloth and occasionally
use linseed oil.
I dust a porcelain lady
twice a week. She does not need my attention,
but I give it.
My Nikon needs to be taken out of its case,
otherwise it may turn into a blind
coal-black memory.
I pick up a quartz crystal and sigh,
At least once a fortnight.
The sigh does not mean anything
unless you think ‘sighs’ mean anything.
When the black dog returns,
I drive out at night
with no aim or destination.
The 'dog' must be driven somewhere,
and left on the edge of a highway.
I go to the Oriental grocery emporium
each month to therapy-browse.
Sometimes I buy a paste or a sauce
not having a clue how to use them.
Cooking into the unknown
is my space travel.
These things I do are tramlines,
a navigability that gets me back
to a place where I can write a poem
with no black dogs attached -
no one likes a failing sun.
These things I do are rituals
for the safe-side of my mind.
~~
(‘Black-dog’ is a euphemism for depression).
Q: Who is the current Chief of Staff?
A: The resident President.
Q: What is an old, lame, deaf, half-blind Sherlock Holmes?
A: A defective detective.
Q: Who is the magician who ate all the pasta when no one was looking?
A: The linguini Houdini.
Q: What is a day in the life depiction of the First Family on view in the rotunda of the White House?
A: An Obama diorama.
Q: What is a doctor who operates on a big fish to remove the roe?
A: A sturgeon surgeon.
Q: What disease did the star of "Veep" get from drinking unbottled water when she was in India?
A: Julia Louis-Dreyfus typhus.
Q: What is a debutante dance for snakes, alligators, etc.?
A: A reptilian cotillion.
Q: How do people in third-world countries view America's "open door" policy?
A: As an immigration invitation.
Q: Selfridge's was a fine example of what kind of department store?
A: A Victorian emporium.
Q: Where would you be if you found yourself trapped between this world and another?
A: In dimension suspension.
Form:
(buy two for the price of one)
Serve your mom and dad a tea at breakfast
With ginger and drops of sedatives to relax
Drive them to the market in Happy Town
Buy them new outfits and shoes
Parents must look good for a presentation
Comb their hair. Part it in the middle
Nix that. Your dad is bald.
Pat him on the head for good luck. "Good boy!"
Buy two leashes at the leash emporium
One pink, one in blue to tell them apart
Attach mom and pop around the neck but gently
Strangulation is against the law and not too friendly
Remember they are parents so show respect
Sell them at the marketplace. Kiss them goodbye
Slaves are in short supply these days
Parent sales are precious and fetch a pretty penny
They make great gifts at Christmas
Take dad’s wallet. It is the least you can do
For all he has done for you and don’t forget mommy
Leashes look great on them in pink and blue
Toodaloo you two
Authors Note: The author loved his parents. They were great people. He wants to inform you that this is a fictional piece and advises against selling your family members unless they start to annoy you.
The Green Silk Dress
Eons back in time, was a tall maiden fair
A long pair of legs and equally long blond hair.
A green silk dress, she once did espy
The colour would pick the green out in her eyes.
Daily she traveled to the emporium so grand,
She gazed in the window from where she did stand.
The dress was a symbol of all her wants and desires
The size correct, the colour perfection, her gaze did not tire
The bus journey she undertook to see this perfect creation
Desperate to try it on, but the thrill was the anticipation.
It called to her soul, day and night she shed tears
Because the dress she knew may only magnify her fears
The low cut neck, on the silk sleeveless floating gown
Would fit and cling, and make many turn around.
Eyes would follow, people would admire
The tall blonde girl in green silk, would set many a man on fire.
The day came when she turned up to look,
The sale was made the receipt in the book.
The dress was now gone from the naked manikin
Hers dreams were gone, though they did not begin…
No silk dress to bring out the colour in her eyes,
No clinging fabric her curves to emphasise.
With the loss of her dress her dream did die too
Returning home sadly, her countenance now blue.
With tears in her eyes, she had turned and left dazed
Never again would she stand there and lovingly gaze.
Life passed her by and her one funny regret
Was never to step though the door, and try in and yet…
It taught her a lesson she was ready to learn...
Regrets are plenty, when for something you yearn
Sometimes one needs to step through that door
It may be the one thing you have been searching for...
It may have turned out that the dress did not fit,
The colour may not have suited, or it pinched a little bit.
But one thing for sure she will now never know
Because she did not have the courage-to give it a go…
© 7/10/2012
She was half asleep in the auditorium
Finding this new year’s curriculum
Dreadfully burdensome and cumbersome
So altogether utterly drearisome
When all of a sudden she heard beating of a drum
And started feeling audaciously adventuresome
With an incredible urge to visit an aquarium
Or race a shopping cart through an emporium
Or follow Hansel and Gretel’s every crumb
Either way her head was filled with wild delirium
With compulsions not meant to overcome
And hankerings to live life to the maximum
Elude deplorable feelings grum or glum
By keeping cheerful and upbeat consortium
Dance through gardens of chrysanthemum
Or plant fields brimful of sublime red geranium
My heart and soul seeking invigorating equilibrium
Embrace passion in its premium platinum sensorium
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
I Adamantly Refuse to Care or Show Concern,
After All
I Served Sincerely and Genuinely, Now I Sever
Hoaxed Mundane Emotions that No Longer Appeal to My Growth
Flippantly Burning Icy Bridges
This is More or Less What You Think
Even More that Spilled Ink!
Pages Stained With Expressions of Clustered Ink Lichens
For I am Sole Custodian of My Emotions
Strolling Flamboyantly Through the Emporium of Memories
Some Insipid, Some Cherished, All Purged for Space
For This is More or Less What You Think
Even More Than Ink!
I Castigate in Order to Reciprocate by means of Detachment
Sharply Dismembering Familial Ties
For I Rather Drown in Water than Blood
My Behavior And Actions May or May not Appear Imprimatur
Shunned Mundane Conformities, Autonomous One
More or Less what You Think
Expressing Choreographed Ink!
Most are Unable or Unwilling to Embrace Their Shadow
A Glimpse In the Mirror Shrouds The True Reflection
My Response is Isolation
Because My Energy is Mines to do As I Please
Such are Normal or Reactive to Both Inner and Outer Influences
I Shall not Partake In Friendly Bantering Where Venomous Strife Once Proceeded!
My Silence is A Science Blaring In Ink
More or Less!
Stop to shop on my posh Shop
Please make a quick stop
to visit my posh shop.
Walk in ! Be free to shop !
My variety store
containing seven floors.
Welcome ! Choose and explore.
Hunt dress as your treasure
Sale of Top, Skirt and Trouser.
Buy ! To sell : My pleasure.
Get flavour, nice nascent
strong and mild, both descent
Arrived Perfumes and Scent.
Take posy of flowers.
Warm feelings to shower.
Good wishes to embower.
Drink strong wine, or whisky
Go drowsy or tipsy.
though a bit risky.
This is emporium.
Buy aquarium,
also terrarium.
Perfect place to bring
lover, to choose ring
for coming wedding !
Payment never to count !
Fifty percent Discount.
Profit on your account.
Dilated time extends shuttle to projectile velocity
Accelerated approach shatters tachometer
Forcecul thrust spurs blob star pulp blur galaxies
Taken to religion's reason, infinity honourer
Surveying never discover wonder, God's audacity
Latent edges beckon an awakened explorer
Unbound compounds cast carbon vast possiblity
Timorous molecules amplify into emporium
Glimmer of pierced distance with quicker impulse
Emptying Earth certainty, pours fervid chaos
Ten-dimensional matrix comprises dots illustrious
Strings' swollen muster brings forth obvious
13th December
- DAFT SLIT GETS -
(immaculate)
Arc of sure light
Sunrise in a flash;
Emergent horizon
~~~~~~~~~
Street corner commotion
Detour signage shouts;
Road excavation
~~~~~~~~~
Fruit stall vendor
Familiar offerings tempt;
Seasonal fruits
~~~~~~~~~
Emporium crowd
Oriental handicrafts;
Curious array
~~~~~~~~~
Smoky haze pollutes
Grey sunscreen patch;
Coughing episodes
~~~~~~~~~
Hunchback old lady
Sorting paper debris;
Resolute survival
~~~~~~~~~
Sidewalk cobbler
Old uncle attending;
Sick shoes healer
~~~~~~~~~
Esteemed haiku poet lectures
Mindful crowd listen;
Takeaway tips
~~~~~~~~~
Dandelion swirls
Wind-blown ecstasies;
Far away trips
~~~~~~~~~
Nightfall pours darkness
Autumn draft chills;
Late evening complaint
~~~~~~~~~
Evening news highlights
World gone mad;
Violence escalates
~~~~~~~~~
Talk of hard times
Here, there, everywhere;
Cocoon retreat
~~~~~~~~~
Soft tapioca chips
Crispy no more;
Forgotten leftovers
~~~~~~~~~
Orchid garden visit
Flowers in full bloom;
Uncertain choice
~~~~~~~~~
Business as usual
War is big money;
Greedy doom
~~~~~~~~~
Old sepia motifs
Poignant China doll;
Rouge face haunts
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
23 September 2014
Singapore
Written: July 22, 2026 for a contest sponsored by Brian Strand
************
We sit at this emporium
on the outskirts of the oasis;
I watch you
while your eyes inhabit the moon.
Tell me—what forgotten tide
is tugging at your silence?
mine,
or the phantom
wearing your heartbeat,
as cedar smoke cleaves to your coat?
The night offers
no reply.
Every moonrise
it buttons brief memories, tight as cold stone,
as dew phosphoresces on iron rails
meanwhile,
your discarded book drinks darkness...
Only the window holds our
two reflections, never touching.
So—
I am living on your borrowed light,
gathering myself from evanishing warmth
your gaze forgets to retain—
silver by sepulchral slate piece,
salt whitening the shoreline.
I become a constellation
linking stars and tears,
luminous enough to guide the lost.
Yet still, the silver rim
of your cup remains.
It proves even borrowed moons
leave tides behind,
washing over the stagnant coffee left between us.