Long Sale Poems
Long Sale Poems. Below are the most popular long Sale by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sale poems by poem length and keyword.
River Bank Cottage...............
There are days within my life thus far,
I would gladly leave behind.
Though the day we saw this lovely place,
Will never leave my mind.
River Bank Cottage, is up for sale,
Was the sign we saw that day.
And what I saw before my eyes,
Truly took my breath away.
Ivy covered window-sills,
Tulips by a stream.
Water that sparkled like cold champagne,
Befitting any dream.
Crocus in abundance,
And the daff's bright endless glow.
An old dishevelled watermill,
Where the silent waters flow.
Hearing cuckoos in the distance,
Scents of spring-time on the breeze.
The untamed shadows from the sun,
Danced among the willow trees.
Heaven on earth we saw that day,
Happiness so true.
I knew this place before our eyes,
Was meant for me and you..........
Fifty-two dollars
Oh how I wish I had fifty-two dollars
to cover the cost of a four-dollar meal,
and pay for an outfit that’s much more in style,
on sale, half the price, is considered a steal
To gather a card for each holiday calling
and write out your name where the address does go,
grabbing a beautiful bouquet of flowers,
that bloom like your smile each season they grow
To purchase a suitcase for that destination,
that brings my heart closer to where yours does wait
while running to catch Monday’s bus at the station,
for Tuesday or Wednesday just might be too late
Oh how I wish I had fifty-two dollars,
so I could be near you whatever I spend
and maybe have change left to keep in my pocket,
in case time allows me to see you again
Discount Justice
I go to the store,
there is a paper…
It is meant to sell me things.
Most items I need,
some I want,
others are on SALE.
A coupon is cut from
this same sheet,
It is a promise,
of goods,
of services,
of excellence,
and loyalty,
appreciation.
Yes… they mix and match.
Yes… they have a system.
Yet the balance is not even.
Paper...
a thing that is gone,
or going away.
"Real" you can not touch.
Now I wrestle with an app.
It says... 2 for one, 3 for 8?
and clearly…
come back on Sunday next.
“No”… there is no net (internet con.),
You can not have that price,
It is only for those that,
still read…
without glasses,
fully understanding the bottom line.
If you can not keep up,
You will be last, or even forgotten,
nearly all the time.
Yet be sure you will pay…
full price every day,
for the rest of your life.
It’s a yard sale shopper’s paradise
With hidden treasures stashed amid the clutter.
Like fine bone china chipped about the edges.
It’s an heirloom set with all the pieces krazy-glued together,
Its approximation of perfection
Gives one reason to excuse the others’ faults.
Some have half their stuff in storage.
Some have all their dreams in hock.
There’s a common lock, but no one has the key.
We continue swapping recipes and gossip just the same.
We’re living in the House of Broken People.
In the House of Broken People
Every player has a role.
There’s no method in the acting,
Only madness in the soul.
It’s a slum dog renter’s penthouse view,
With quotations from Bukowski for graffiti.
At night we leave a light on in the hall.
There’s a framed reminder on the wall,
Says, “ALL OUR FRUIT IS LOCAL”
In other words, it pays to be impartial.
As each must find his own amusement,
Each must put his mind to use.
It’s a fragile truce that holds the peace together.
A deck of jokers stacked upon a whiskey bottle’s neck.
We’re living in the House of Broken People
In the House of Broken People
Every bedroom has a door,
Each with keyholes made for peeping,
But we’ve seen it all before.
One more postcard from
The House of Broken People.
They sell human meat at the butcher shop, and nobody is batting an eye!
They sell a popular item that is quite the delicacy for half of the global
population:
It’s not beef.
It’s not pork.
It’s not poultry.
It’s not fish.
It’s women.
The men that work behind the counter clean and butcher them to their
heart’s content.
Too much fat.
Too lean.
Too many servings.
Some desire beef, some desire veal.
The customers grab their shopping carts as if there’s an all-day buy
one-get-one-free sale, splurging on slice after slice. Wrapped up in
plastic, ready to be opened for consumption.
“But this one has some bites in it!” one customer gasps.
“This one has never been eaten!” another customer sneers.
Both products are thrown in the garbage, inevitably ready to compose.
The men abhor the vegetarians that protest in the streets, proclaiming
freedom and safety for the cows, pigs, chickens, and fish.
“These animals had lives, ample with opportunities and talents! Full of
beauty, inside and out!” they shout, signs up high.
Some of the men spit on their shoes.
Some of them push the protestors to the ground and kick them black
and blue.
Some of them perceive them as the animals, wolfing them down and
hushing their yelps.
The protestors have fallen into an infinite dark pit of hell along with the
animals, punished for crimes they did not commit.
Not only did the men toss them into these holes and they fell into these
holes, they also all were holes themselves.
The men are holes void of morality and compassion, roots once full of
blooming flowers of joviality and innocence now rotting and barely
holding them together.
The animals are vast, deep holes full of talents, passions, and emotions,
but to the men, they are just holes for pleasure.
The checkout line that was once a place for the transaction of chivalry,
honor, admiration, and protection is now an inferno of fiery lust,
selfishness, greed, and cataclysm.
Do you know about the magic stores that are
Hidden in an alley which sells magical objects?
You will find sales representatives who aren't
Amateurs
They're intelligent on every subject
Each item bought and sold has to be perfect
For your expenditure.
Do you know about the magic stores that are
Hidden in an alley which sells magical objects?
I think your a skeptic. They inspect
Historic high grade treasures.
They're intelligent on every subject
That they sale like books, brooms, cauldrons,
Clothing, crystal balls, flying carpets, jewelry,
Stones, wands, and weapons each item has
Its own countries dialect
As well as its own allure.
Do you know about the magic stores that are
Hidden in an alley which sells magical objects.
They say it's a great place to pick and select
At your leisure.
They're intelligent on every subject.
The stores are open six days a week to the
Magical public
For your pleasure.
Do you know about the magic stores that are
Hidden in an alley which sells magical objects.
They're intelligent on every subject.
Connie was a cheerleader
bright white toothed smile
bouncing boobs
short skirt legs running long
through school boy fantasies
friday nights her stage
crisp November air her makeup
Robert was a loner
a stoner
bad clear down to the core
shriveled up inside
Salvation Army furniture
Batman comics
bologna sandwich supper
Connie was manicured lawns
gardens of flowers
white picket fences and stone pathways
Norman Rockwell dinners
lavender bath soap
silk pajamas
pink bed spread
Robert was a rundown trailer
on a filthy back lot
goddamn you f*****g punk
get the hell out morning breakfast
garage sale coffee table
stacked with beer cans and ash trays
overflowing with death
Connie had a secret
hidden touches
fatherly lust
make up hiding
violent bruises
don't tell your mother
if you want her safe
I can hurt her too
Robert had a secret
18 hour days
two jobs at garages
straight A's
never give up
never give in
blue eyes and crooked smile
whispering to the world to kiss his ass
Connie was the sharp
razor's edge that gleamed
like the holy grail
in her bathroom drawer
Robert was the strong will
the hard desire
the drive to move on
to something more
Connie was a cheerleader
Robert was not a quarterback
but they were each other's
Salvation
Could platinum coin deposit
In the U.S. Treasury's closet
Our debts enjoin?
A trillion-dollar coin
Might yield a government profit
Author's Note: Section 31 U.S.C. § 5112 of the United States Code authorizes the Treasury Department to "mint and issue platinum bullion coins" in any denominations the Secretary of the Treasury may choose. This privilege only extends to platinum coins. Thus, if the Treasury were to mint a few one-trillion dollar platinum coins, it could deposit such coins in the general fund instead of issuing debt (lol).
Seigniorage is the difference between the receipts from the Federal Reserve System from the sale of circulating coins at face value and the costs of minting and distributing the coins. Seigniorage is deposited periodically to the General Fund where it reduces the government's need to borrow.
Of course, this might create a wave of inflation. But we should all realize that the value of paper currency eventually tends to zero. In any event, the inflation we've experienced in 2022 is just a taste of what's to come since the politicians don't want to explain a depression to their voters. We're entering strange times.
Brother for sale.
I'll deliver him too.
I can send in the mail,
Wrapped in yellow or blue.
He's water potty-trained now,
But that can change in a day.
He'll be bundled with Oreos,
So he can eat on the way.
I can mail him by truck, car, or plane.
He's coming with stuff, his favorite toy train.
He's coming character-recommended, highly by me.
He's a pretty good brother, who is almost three.
We need him back when you get him trained.
We simply cannot seem to get through to his little brain.
That when he has to poop, hiding is no good.
Please train him to use the potty with solids, if you could.
Then send him back, to his crazy, loving home.
And this shall be the end of this tiny poem.
There's a part of you thats seldom seen
that's always been and always will.
It's still, it's sure, it doesn't want more,
It understands what kindness is for
and why everything must change
in this seemingly deranged unfolding
so that the love you are holding can be set free.
It understands me
which is more than I do
but I recognise and worship the divinity within you.
Godly but oddly grounded,
all fears unfounded, well rounded.
Every second welcomed regardless of content
or how a day's meant to be.
Please allow me to humbly greet you.
My head below yours says I am honoured to meet you.
No other way to treat you
and this divine line that winds its way through your being,
all knowing and all seeing
knows it flows through every soul
and bows it's head in turn below.
No judgement or scale
and nothing for sale.