Long Grocery store Poems
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This is my headache
that I can't call a migraine
because it doesn't go away
and its not strong enough
for that convenient label.
This is knowing how
to collect pennies,
not quarters, for
Coin Star.
This is going to a grocery store
not to buy food.
This is hoping you can afford
a Bento Box of wine so tonight
the headache will go away
for a couple hours.
This is asking for money
gently, and mot making it seem
like you are begging.
This is putting dignity
behind your family,
and yourself.
This is writing poetry
because words are free,
sometimes.
This is having a close relationship
with Tupperware
and leftovers.
This is learning the art
of meditation
because I can't afford
yoga classes or the pants
the women wear
who go to them on Saturdays.
This is learning to cook
based on the cans
in your closet between
bowed down shelves
you are too tired to straighten.
I have learned what it is
to recognize the song
of a Mourning Dove
and the peepers in the spring.
That makes me smile
when I run in the evening
and time and no-money me
can slide down a colorless
rainbow
towards
borrowed serenity.
try to make sure each person you meet—
walks away happier than they arrived
I admit it. My philosophy has always been, "There's no such thing as a stranger, just a friend I haven't met yet." So, yes, I'll start a conversation while waiting in line at the grocery store. I'll help old people across the street, though most times I'm the one that could use the help. I say, 'Thank You", "Please" and "Have a wonderful day". I try to have a smile even though I'm sad. It comes from being raised by parents that had next to nothing but was always willing to share what they did have. A mom who showed only love and a father who gladly shared his gift of gab.
I'm not saying that my temper never gets the best of me. When it does, it flies out of my mouth like a sailor on meth. but usually, it fades quickly. Now that I'm a little older and I hope a little wiser, I try to keep it hidden. I am trying to look at things from the other person's perspective.
Many times, I've been told by my children that I am too friendly. But I don't think that's possible. A smile, a tip of the hat, a friendly wave, holding the door, letting someone merge onto your lane all cost nothing. Yet the rewards might be more than you can ever expect. Besides, who couldn't use another friend.
Often I hear people complain about the simplest of things
In seemingly going insane with the little details life brings
Perhaps it's the traffic or a long line at the grocery store
Just take your own pick for I know there are a lot more
When we have so much as compared to other countries
We seemed to have lost touch with what the eye sees
For so many have far less but rarely will they complain
For they don't see it as mess but they still feel the pain
Their lines are much longer even to just get some water
Oh if I was a bit stronger waiting in line to place my order
Having to wait a whole hour for a doctors appointment
You wouldn't be sour knowing most of them never went
Sitting there at that red light just waiting for it to turn
My goodness, such a plight as we never seem to learn
What will a big storm do If ripples can rock your boat
We need to act more like a sheep and less like a goat
There comes a time,
If you live long enough,
When you may find yourself
In that last waiting room.
One day it’s necessary
To give up life as you know it
And leave it behind
To move somewhere else,
Somewhere simpler with more help.
What to do with all the books
You have read over the years,
That are like old friends?
Who will get the family silver
Or should it just be sold?
What about the table linens,
The chest of quilts made by
Your great grandmother,
And all the family photographs?
There are boxes of souvenirs
And albums from trips,
Cookie tins for all the cookies
You made at Christmas,
Dishes and glassware and
The corner china closet.
But most of all, all of your life
Is in this place called home.
Your neighbors and friends,
As close to you as family,
Who stop by on the wide porch
For a drink on a hot day.
People always there with a smile,
A helping hand, a casserole,
A comforting, listening ear.
Your church, the small town
Grocery store and post office,
The open spaces, trees, and
Parks and the sandy beaches.
You leave your whole life behind
And move to a lovely new
Apartment in a spacious building
With other lovely new apartments,
And you make the best of it
Because, after all, you have a choice.
You can choose to be miserable,
Or you can choose to be happy,
Even if you feel that you have moved
To that last waiting room.
A musical throng of 400,000 strong invaded a dairy farm in New York in 1969,
which set fire to the 70’s; but there was no chance of me being there;
I was a good girl, 17 years young; sheltered, not knowing about the real world.
Working in a grocery store 28 hours a week, while
attending my senior year of high school, in my home town of Chariton, Iowa.
There were gang-inspired movies of sheer horror and terror out about this time.
I did not see any except Billy Jack, and the Glory Stompers.
Both traumatized me so hard, I am still terrified of them.
I was making macramé planters, Modge Podge boxes, and latch hook rugs if I could
Get the money; the boxes were expensive.
Some people were pretend hippies, wearing long hair. I grew my hair long
For my yearbook photo, but then was sad because it had looked lots better short.
By 1971, I was married, after being forced to view myself as an old maid
By my peers who had all wed a month out of high school.
I was wearing a large, black, bushy afro, and thought of myself as liberated.
Not even close, honey, the Equal Rights Amendment did not even pass.
By ’74 I had two babies; I remember getting a flat tummy after
childbirth and being insanely unhappy that the new style was maternity-looking tops.
Who made THAT decision?
I was still wearing the hip-hugging bell bottom pants now, but without the wide belt.
Mary Tyler Moore was on TV, shocking everyone with disbelief that a single woman could
Make it on her own, without man, or marriage.
“My Three Sons” and “The Brady Bunch” had been startling pushed out of the way by “All in the Family.”
I had never known the word ‘bigot before’, I’m not sure I ever wanted to.
By ’79 I had my third baby, was living in a large house in Des Moines, Iowa, and was a Girl Scout Troop Leader.
Remember the days before computers
Seems like they've been around forever
Life was simpler or that's how it seemed
Methinks today's much simpler however
Hard to recall the big hassle it was
Making a simple deposit at the bank
Had to get there before closing at three
Banker's hours were short to be frank
What about shopping at the grocery store
Needed cash or you were poop outta luck
Unless you saw a friend and asked for a loan
And he forks over a couple of bucks
Now you can order movie tickets online
Is there anything more convenient than that
No more standing in a long line in the cold
Bundled up in a coat, scarf and a hat
We can even file our tax returns online
We don't even need to mail them anymore
No, today is a very much simpler life
We can now take daily naps and snore
© Jack Ellison 2014
Does an empty jar weep? 6
Crying wine or water 6
My hollow bowl thirsty 6
You scream for wet matter 6
Yet you lie like a dry monk 7
Patiently waiting for me 7
Your mouth opened to be drunk 7
Your rim or lips parched for sea 7
In the morning, you ask for wine 8
In a mug with dogs chasing tails 8
The closed grocery store makes us pine 8-9
Open up, a cab will fill pails 8
Some saucers are cracked by ache, some whole 9
We are engineered to seek fullness 9
Wanting bleeds endlessly through cleft bowls 9
Air, condense between my chinky mess 9
Wine, stop bleeding ruby through fissures 9
Without care for the states of matter 9
If air settling be a treasure 8-9
But, air doesn’t ache like pitter patter 9-10
To be still like an empty mug 8
Bleeding coffee as air pours in 8
My glazed mug with a fractured dog 8
Waiting for the bare morning’s din 8
Without a care what goes in 7
Emptiness is illusion 7
Top me inanimate bin 7
But, I’m flesh with desires undone 7-8
Parched rims need a wet kiss 6
Mugs aren’t displeased with airs 6
Flesh cracks crave what’s amiss 6
Grow legs to run from tears 6
In time, cut off limbs 5
Be like a quiet mug 5-6
Drinking breath in sips 5
Full from emptiness 5
What a concept 4
Purposeless cup 4
Cracks do adapt 4
Weep this f-up 4
Vapors rise 3
Walls shatter 3
Cracks surprise 3
Mad Hatter 3
Teacups? 2
Cuckoo 2
Cracks weep 2
Super glue 3
Remember the days before computers
Seems like they've been around forever
Life was simpler or that's how it seemed
Methinks today's much simpler however
Hard to recall what a hassle it was
Making a simple deposit at the bank
Had to get there before closing at three
Banker's hours were short to be frank
What about shopping at the grocery store
Needed cash or you were poop outta luck
Unless you saw a friend and asked for a loan
And he forks over a couple of bucks
Now you can order movie tickets online
Is there anything more convenient than that
No more standing in a long line in the cold
Bundled up in a coat, scarf and a hat
We can even file our tax returns online
We don't even need to mail them anymore
No, today is a very much simpler life
We can now take daily naps and snore
Shhhhh, here comes the Warden
He’s just about to open the door, Frank
Well, that’s good ‘cause I’ve been in this slammer too long!
and, it way too cold in here, Patty!
I never did ask you Frank, what are you in for?
Wrong time at the wrong grocery store, I guess,
before I knew it, I was in the big house, feels more
like an ice house. I was in solitary for while, frozen stiff
Then, I found myself here with you and Bangsy and Cherry.
You know Cherry, she’s Bangsy’s tomato!
She was picked fresh off the line and ended up in here!
Let me ask Olive, she’s been in here forever,
Hey Olive, when did Cherry get out?
I wouldn't talk about that too loudly, Patty,
she went to the counter!
Oh no!, not the counter, that’s death row for everyone!
If you hear them say they want to grill you Frank, don’t
believe it, it’s not what you think.
Bangsy never did come back!
Poor Bangsy, such a silly sausage!
Door’s open, this is it!
Bye Patty!
Guess it’s hamburger time for me
OH, sorry Patty!!!
I mean, I guess I’ve seen my last bun!
7/9/18
Laying very still actually afraid to move my head unbearable headaches after two strokes severe anxiety syncope fainting spells my husband rushes me back and forth to the hospital I felt horrified anytime you have a traumatic brain injury a lot comes into play first it was waking up from the coma blurred visions big words from nasal radiology deplopia vertigo early onset of dementia learning to walk talk again physical therapy hope laughter crying pain and suffering now this 3mm basilar tip aneurysm right where in front of my brain stem which meets blood vessels to my spine now what lay still treat the pain prepared for an angiography just when I thought having two strokes after traumatic brain injury couldn't be any worse well now it is afraid to breathe cardiovascular attacks Afib irregular heart beats afraid to panic ptsd envisioning myself deceased grieving my health as I once knew it before traumatic events before traumatic brain injury before traumatic headaches never knowing when this will erupt will it be riding to the doctors pharmacy grocery store church or just while having tea watching King of Queens reruns will I be laughing crying or taking a bath when it burst ticking time bomb an yet I am reminded everyday of all the wondrous things God has created life is funny that way I suppose I'm still wondering life death do I get to choose rather I come back as a cardinal an eagle or a butterfly something with wings to soaring with the angels watching over God's earth for now laying still treating pain