Long Haggling Poems
Long Haggling Poems. Below are the most popular long Haggling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Haggling poems by poem length and keyword.
'Fragment of the soul'
A mighty unpleasant zephyr,
Slivered my soul into
fragments,
And blew away my most
valuable fraction.
Macrocosm became his
hostelery,
Having gained altruistic
radiance,
His silence became my
tribulation.
Snookered by lot of malarkey,
Hoveled in dismay and haggling
for aquittance,
I died a silent death every
moment.
Now that time promulgates my
totality,
As I rediscover that fragment of
my soul,
My mind rests in serenity and
content.
Just as I regain my thunder,
And manage to rise in bravado,
To live a life that I would
evince,
Now a denizen of desires and
aspirations!!
Written on 14/9/13
What's fresh new delight could you
possibly
Have to offer onto me that I have not
yet had before
Or you have kept from me and
in your locker left
So pretty please now feel free
to go ahead and finish what you
started
Since you have just ever so cleverly
drawn me in and now have my full
undivided attention
As I am now more than a little intrigued to
know what indeed in fact if exactly anything
you have up your sleeve
So go ahead I call and let's see and
find out if you were bluffing after all
And whether or not I myself then have
anything to counter offer you back in
return with
Otherwise haggling then at that point
is positively pointless
As I have no cards left to play and the
only offer left on the table
Is the initial one you made i naively
choose to turn down
I’ve watched the news turn into a reality show
of well-rehearsed melodramas, designed to sell time.
Alternative realities promote hate;
there is blood on our streets!
Politicians grift; everything revolves around
obtaining money and power.
We live in critical times;
our children's futures are in jeopardy!
Today, kids use the internet for companionship,
and friends are replaced by emojis and likes,
lacking any physical interface.
Global warming is absolute;
yet people deny that climate change is real—
and when proven wrong, they defer blame to someone else.
We're addicted to technology; it's the monkey on our backs,
and humanity may be the cost we pay.
We rally to false flags, forming groups of them versus us,
while worshiping the almighty dollar,
and haggling over the price of our souls.
Fearing what the future holds, I offer this silent prayer—
Lord, forgive us in our time of greed. Amen!
This is it
I give up
I throw in the towel
I draw the curtains
I pull down the shades
I close the doors shut
Finito
The end;
No more haggling
No more beseeching
No more whining
No more whimpering
I'll call it a day,
Saddle sore
I am heading home
I am out of the race -
Get me off the grid.
World-weary,
Timeworn,
I am done.
Flat-lined
I am pulling the plugs;
I ran the gauntlet
Kaput
Stop the earth
I am getting off -
Sayonara!
I am just circling the drain -
Get me off this hamster wheel,
I am at the end of my tether,
I have just about seen
the last of the sunsets,
No more sunrises for me,
I am sitting fallow,
I am at the end of my rope
I am teetering on the precipice
I am hanging by the skin of my teeth
I am dying on the vine
I am ready to kick the bucket -
Uh...can someone
bring me a bucket please!
Folks say I'm struggling
That I'm old and confused,
They don't see all the haggling
Which leaves them bemused.
My colleagues are wordy
My enemies too,
But my willpower is sturdy
As I'm all for the Blue.
If now a bit slower
Even friends I seem faze,
But post Trump the bar's lower
And that's my fail safe.
The Media's a pain
What's with the shouting,
I shan't play their game
Their continual doubting.
Then there's old Bernie
And his Marxists galore,
With their bone headed journey
To simply point score.
Republicans matter not a bit in my mind
Obstructive and loudly they wail,
But Politics taught to never be kind
So let them act up and sullenly rail.
As to the Trumpers, what can I say
They live in a universe all of their own,
Their partisan anger a cause for dismay
While the stolen election they relive every day.
When all's said and done I'm proud of my job
Obama's on side to bring me relief,
My one secret weapon to quieten the mob
Sharing the load to make my weeks brief.
In a corner I kneel
Naked as birth
Worthless I feel
To others I appear worth
I worked in a bar
A customer I've just met
He's promised this and that
My future I think set
A new life he'd find
Better prospects I'd face
To this customer I've just met
I reach out to embrace
We meet in the morning
At a disclosed quiet place
My journey for a new life
With a smile on my face
Into my unknown
Down dirt roads and farm tracks
After travelling for hours
I start to relax
At a farmhouse we stop
Outside parked are fancy cars
In the middle of nowhere
My mind thinks so bizarre
Entering we go
This cold and eerie place
Strangers they all are
To a wall I'm told to face
Orders are given
To please turn around
Strip naked to bare
Quiet, not a sound
A door opens
In walk smartly dressed men
They appear haggling, bartering
Again and again
To me they approach
Pointing, stern faced
Naked to these men
In this now nowhere place
I am led away
Injection I am given
Into involuntary slumber
In deranged driven
I awaken hours later
To the sound of city life
In a seedy room somewhere
My heart races rife
Weeks and months pass
Many men to forget
Soiled and degraded
Instructed, by the man in the bar I'd met
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/dark-5.php
Every day I wake up to the cacophony
Of a murder of crows cawing on tree tops
As the sun emerges from behind the hills
They take to the skies in one and two,
Sometimes together in unison they fly
Cruise out in air like small boats
Though dark, they are the emissaries of light!
Never in the sky for long,
They land down and glide up shrieking
Flying from hedge to fence
Hopping from mound to plane
These noisy folks remind me
Of the haggling fisher women never silent
Cocking their heads to and fro,
They keep a watchful eye
Everything falls in their eyeshot
Picking up scraps and crumbs
And tit bits from garbage piles
They thrive in gregarious company
With dusk fall, they come back homes
Full of gossip and tales of travel
These ubiquitous birds of all seasons
Are the unpaid scavengers of the Earth!
Sept. 25.2022
A Flock of Birds Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Julia Ward
Suspended Transcendental Meditative State...
Temporarily relieves, loosens,
and detaches worldly weight,
albeit bearing heavily straight
away upon well balanced,
awk credited miniature oblate
spheroid, sans cranial
dome to help alleviate
this principled capital one citizen banker,
whose penurious plight
seeks to make lightweight
oppressive burden clawing
(with razor sharp talons)
tete a tete upon pate
never to abate
pennilessness, which oppressive monetary
crisis could abbreviate
livingsocial, and spur me to abdicate
charade, facade minted "FAKE"
dog and pony Truman
kaput show, doth accelerate
velocity at which body
electric will demonstrate
how basket of deplorable
pauperism existence I abominate
past the tipping point to relish,
where being in the red
financially doth accentuate
swiftness yours truly will acclimate,
where among grave
mausoleums will accommodate
finding yours truly to acculturate
adjusting being housed
with grateful dead help facilitate
mine written posthumous decomposition
once Hades will activate
leverage - haggling with ferryman,
which latter might equivocate
par for the course, especially demise,
asper cessation circumlocution prone
fella never to tubby a freight
of becoming deceased
signifying no more flapping gums
asthma lovely bones disintegrate
into basic constituent matter
repurposed into essence, I cannot intimate.
Would you take a dollar?
No.
Okay. Thanks.
Would you take a fifty-cent piece?
No.
Okay. Thanks.
Would you take a quarter?
No.
Okay. Thanks.
The haggler has no idea how to haggle really, the
vendor thinks, not realizing she gets more things for
a dollar, a fifty cent piece and a quarter than anyone
else in the world.
The buyer leaves with her dollar intact.
There is another garage sale two houses down, right?
Would you take a dollar?
No.
Okay. Thanks.
Would you take a fifty-cent piece?
No.
Okay. Thanks.
Would you take a quarter?
Yes. Sure.
Thank you very much! I love it!
Form:
Welcome to the market place of the best in all mankind
buy paintings of imaginings with brushstrokes of the mind.
Words of vivd colour, tapestries of rhyme are shown,
your ears filled with the consonant sound of verses being sewn.
Watch as pots of raw emotion, mixed before your eyes
intelligently kneaded, put aside and left to rise.
Heated with strong passion piping hot straight from the bowl
with floating alphabet croutons to fill your hungry soul.
The Haiku makes a three course meal
and Senryus as well,
Acrostics you'll find satisfying, only for a short spell.
These artisans a hearty bunch, the kind you can rely on,
their aprons used to dry your tears, and
shoulders you can cry on.
The clanging from the wordsmith's forge, as new verses are pressed,
fragrant couplets blossoming, the nectar of the blessed.
A vibrant buzz in alleyways and shadowy secret places,
a warm and friendly welcome to the boatloads of new faces.
No haggling and waving hands, negotiating price,
from ABC to Villanelle it's all free (which is nice).
No chance of meeting Cobras here, so please don't be alarmed,
it's just the meter, rhythm and rhyme that leave customers charmed.
Enjoy yourself, feel free to roam, we're open every day,
there's space here for a stall for you, like us-
you're bound to stay x