Long Shop Poems
Long Shop Poems. Below are the most popular long Shop by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shop poems by poem length and keyword.
Carmena was born in Bolivia
but left that place at seventeen,
after three years of waiting for the chance
to live out an American dream.
When her folks finally got their green cards
they moved up into old Santa Fe,
Carmena finished out her high school years
picking up on all American ways.
She’d known some English before she had come,
but her vocab expanded real quick,
immersed in the tongue every day
her accent softened and became less thick.
This helped a lot in her father’s new shop,
he bought a gas station in a franchise,
Carmena waited on all walks of life,
and the experience opened her eyes.
She’d chat with truckers and travelers
from all over the fifty great states,
lefty Californians, southern good-ol’ boys,
northern Yankees and Texans hauling steaks.
Mid-westerners who were so crazy nice,
New Yorkers who always sounded pissed off,
good-natured rednecks looking for more beer,
even some Yoopers with their funny talk.
Learned more of her new home on that roadside
then she did in any public school,
what would divide and what would unite,
but the one thing that really stuck her as cool
was that Americans, the better ones,
made everything subservient to choice.
Culture and skin, ethnicity and faith,
you had the freedom to ignore and avoid.
These facts struck her as how things should be,
had not every person a claim to these rights?
Here force of law was meant to make free
people to be the driving force in their lives.
And best of all, she heard all sides of things,
good for thought, both the grease and gourmet,
when seven years passed, and she took that oath,
she became American in so many ways.
But then something happened she didn’t expect,
it came about in an election year,
talking with her friend Sue about the vote
she was greeted with anger and fear.
Carmena was confused,"Why the harsh look?
I was just sharing the thoughts on my mind.
I believe in gun rights, and low taxes,
My father’s shop has been having a time—”
Sue interrupted,”Do you hate yourself?!
Don’t you know that you’re a Hispanic?
You’re betraying your own kind, voting this way,
colored people should vote Democratic!”
Carmena was stunned, struggled to reply,
“But I see nothing good in their beliefs.”
Sue just fumed,”You’re a damn race-traitor,
or brain-washed by fascist enemies!”
CONCLUDES IN PART II
She said that this man, my grandfather,
held her head under the black pool water,
while up above, a German man leaned
out of his window, against the moss and brick
to scream violently: "Don't hurt that woman!
She is the most beautiful woman in the world!"
The tone of the man's voice, authoritative, cold
broke my grandfather's concentration and he
let her bob up to the surface, coughing, sputtering
in an almost drowned manner, while still maintaining a beauty uncommon to humans, as she stole a quick glance
to the heavens of heavens to acknowledge the saving
power of a stranger.
This is her story today, as she sits on three moth-eaten,
velvet pillows to make her tall enough to reach the kitchen table.
She has shrunk in her old age and is no longer "the most beautiful woman
in the world".
She sips her black coffee out of Russian demitasse cups with diamond emblems
until she reaches the grinds which have slept in warmth on the bottom,
to fool her, she thinks.
She nibbles her white toast with butter and honey and shivers in the air conditioning as royalty should.
When she has filled the remaining ten percent of her stomach (the other ninety percent was removed from the worry
of ulcers when technology was in it's infant stage), she continues her story.
It lasts all afternoon and twists and winds around the basic sub-plot that, somehow, her beauty and dignity was
acknowledged in the worst circumstances, and, with her infinite wisdom, the world was made a better place.
Her voice soaks into the wooden cabinets, and will remind me forever of strong, fresh-brewed coffee, and I think,
right at that moment as I look at my hands (which I know will resemble hers one day), that I miss my grandfather.
The most gentle man in the world, whose thoughts never amounted to more than wanting to garden well, or shape
the perfect pizza in his pizza shop.
This man, who set chairs on tables to clear the floor before he danced in pure Zorba the Greek manner, with a glint in
his innocent eyes.
This man, who looked at this woman, this fabricating, self-absorbed, once beautiful woman, with an adoration never
deserved.
I clean up the dishes, while still listening, and kiss her good bye on her forehead.
Jittery from stories caffeinated and old, I chose to walk the long way home, lightening my mood and shedding her
words along the way.
after years of working &
raising the kids, whom both adopted,
ended up with problems that came from
undisclosed heredity,
the two had put aside a
nest egg, as so many did
in their generation,
growing up with parents who
remembered the depression &
what it was like to have nothing---
hearing everyday that
“a penny saved is a penny earned,”
putting together a life for themselves
while taking care of their own parents
as they passed on
as people do, as we all will,
they thought that when illness started to show its face
in the latter years
that retirement & more time spent
nurturing each other back to health,
would be the most appropriate way of doing things &
so it went---
mother was the first to walk into the hospital
to get cut up &
upon returning home,
father had to take care of her, full time,
so he retired early---
at this time,
the economy was said to be doing “well,”
and nothing was being said of the atrocities to come,
so father, always trying to be fiscally sound,
invested a good portion of their savings,
thinking that over time, it would multiply,
like the broker assured him &
the two would be able to stay retired,
living off what they had saved,
as had been planned---
but father was next into the light blue gown &
being told there was cancer growing inside him,
the worry shifted just as mother was getting better,
to the new horror---
& while the two worked on keeping each other
emotionally sane, while their own bodies started to
give up on them,
the meltdown came,
like a tropical storm of immeasurable proportion
sweeping in from some angle that couldn’t be detected
by any formerly successful means &
the unplanned agony began.
the money lost by others with whom a working couple
had put all their trust,
could never be regained &
their bodies now exhausted by a life of work,
recovering & enduring illness,
would have the most difficult time trying to make it again
in the 21st century work force---
so as the stress came on full
the strain joined in &
as the strain & stress pummeled them both,
all that was left was the re-mortgaging of their house,
the last thing they wanted to give up,
that very vital shelter over both of their heads,
now being hocked in the system’s pawn shop,
allowing them nothing to pass on to their children,
allowing them to never stop agonizing over each passing day
wondering just when the ball will completely drop.
during talking to this young lady
i looked on her quiet fondly as a friend
still stunned when she kissed me
i stepped back with shock
yet looking at her in a softened heart
i felt for her looking into her eyes i said
stop sweetheart as i looked at her
inside i was crying
so long since i heard them words
i love you
putting both hands on her face
saying looking into her eyes
you are so very sweet
she never saw inside what them words meant
i saw in her eyes hurt
feeling so ashamed
i hugged her saying
never give your feelings away
so easily to a man you barely know
you began pleading
saying you knew me for ages
it was only in the space of shopping
i felt ever so bad
wishing the ground to swallow me
so much going on in one's head
finding it hard to cope
then you began telling me
that for months you had been watching me
as we spoke once a week on the rare occasion twice
always smiling sometimes
coming up behind me
playfully giving me a fright then laughing
all this time i saw you as a friend
during the conversation
she began telling me
each time i entered the shop
she got butterflies
i felt so sad heart touched
honestly did not know what to say
beyond flattered
at that moment i felt broken hearted
i did not want to hurt her
she began saying you are always so nice
i love speaking to you
waiting and hoping to see you each we
smiling lost for words
each time after shopping
always headed to her till
she always smiled beautiful
each time she saw me even
among'st a crowd
her look would single me out
at the time one never noticed
to wrapped up in everything else in my life
there was no room within
my heart that time
to let you in
in fact i love the company
inside emotion
i shut completely down
flattered she kissed me again
honestly it tasted beautiful
i stopped her
deep within the mind one was hurting
with shattered love deep inside
please darling i said
i do not want to hurt you
try to understand my is not right
never mentioning hospitals
making one feel heartless
you began promising me
the very world you live in
inside i could feel a crying emotion
my mind in bits and pieces
barely living walking around
blind to everyone in my own hurt
the scars were still attached to feelings
of emotion that was not dealt with yet
i was a million miles away in a different space
now i see a lot clearer this is on story i will write
continued angel 3
You’ve met me,
but you just don’t know it yet
The dream house that you want,
I once polar bear hibernated there ...
two winter moons ago
The summer fruit of relaxation
that you’re tasting now,
I planted it
two prior vineyard cycles
I’ve always been double moves ahead,
my checkered past
taught me keen ways
to escape poverty dread
The slum lord pitchfork
tossing that Ebenezer heavy eviction bale,
tried to do the Scrooge pinch
But me knew da Judas outcome of da sell
You’re a patsy-come-lately,
a puppet bought for sure foreswore
Tho’ a couple chiggers too twenty-something slow,
worms like you
got oasis left in the wilderness dust forty years ago
What you wanna see,
I already seen
I’m always two pillow turns ahead
in your dream
What you wanna do,
I’ve already done
Me always be two rabbit hops ahead
of your turtle run
Here’s the six-digit green lumber
you need to cellblock 8 learn
The lockup combination number
to make those tumblers turn
My moves are two steps ahead
Me be a r-Evolving, double smoking barrel —
twice-pulled trigger click hot lead
You’re a patient zero, broken wing sparrow:
double goose egg, game over dead
I’m always two giant steps ahead
Where I’m ultra solar at
is where you really orbital wanna be
Meesa is a quantum grasshopper high five,
and you’re a gravity locust low three
I live in your twin borrowed tomorrow,
two steps above your ire paygrade
Truth trimming lie bacon is how I get paid
Two floors down at prime usury sorrow,
open pawn shop roasting in shade ...
You’re a pet loan shark getting chum made
I’m always thinking two steps ahead,
delivering ancient sayings that was future said
Meesa gon make your puffy jaws red,
two steps backwards is where your hubris bled
Where me be perched,
is where you’re trying to DNA air flow
I’m four wind birthed,
you’re a deuce snake eye on a belly roll
Me two steps ahead,
just so you know
You’re frozen in place,
minus-two below
I’m living at the kiss end of the Snow White story,
and you ain’t even got a singularity event Black Hole clue
Me 9 generation Lives looking thru a supernova rearview,
your Seven Dwarves tardy situation is inert glory
Two slave wage fettered steps ahead,
is how it’s always gonna be
Eating my Thanksgiving meal on your Labor Day,
is so Easter morning worthy
The Christmas Cafe
I scratch my nails
against my head
and
ponder a while in thought,
but my soul turns bare
And Death twirls
his curled hair.
Taunting me
as my breaths
become caught.
Caught between
the living and the dead.
A cafe with dim lights,
like some sort of spiritual
dread.
Snow blankets the ground,
Raucous laughter is heard
As I see you cross the room
But don't say a single word.
Instead I conduct
A choir in my mind
And wonder if you'll come
To my own short demise.
But here in this place,
I swear to you it's safe
To whisper words of praise
to the left-behind days
Where you and I betrothed
We swore we'd never leave
And now that we're
Dying out in the cold
we can both pick
white lilies to grieve.
But you couldn't handle
the words and the ink.
And now that we're
a second out of synch,
Our very last winter,
for us, it crafts this;
A cafe caught in the middle
Of a wonderland bliss.
Where we can still meet our eyes
crossing over down the hall.
Where we can
Still
Pretend that once, we had it all.
But as I reach my gaze to you,
I seldom pass out of the blue.
You reach into your heart and pull
it from your chest to mix
with mine and the falling snow
And then, too late, you rise to go.
I pull you under blankets
Of death and grief and hell
And just before you go,
The door twinkles its last bell.
The shop is closing up, you see,
Except for its last ghost with me.
The pub empties
out into the street
The people socialize and scream
For they can still
ignite their dream
with our once burning heat
at the level of our true decree.
But none of that's found
in the cafe today.
And the door slowly closes
as you find your own way.
And the night starts to fall,
Gentle leaves flowing from trees
standing tall.
The branches are bare, and inside
there's decay.
But our souls still rot on
to live another day.
Just like our hearts,
As the beating won't start
But perhaps we can find some
Comfort
In knowing
That as we look out
at the cold winter snowing
That Christmas lights dim
And the faint choir hymn
twinkles gently on
underneath the same moon.
And perhaps the soul will at last
alight
As in different worlds, we
count the starlight.
Finally
Accepting
That we'll both be dead soon.
Rubber lover, Zipperella,
is not a brother or a fella.
He has false **** and kitten heels,
not a chest and ankles made of steel
His spiky rubber bag is old,
cleverly patched with a Marigold.
It’s been so long since he wore cotton,
and only zips, never a button
Zippy is a Tube commuter,
six foot tall in his Transmuters.
Lots of people stop and stare,
even more when he had pink hair.
Being a girl was such hard work,
every day another jerk!
Better to dye it back to brown,
play his fetish lifestyle down.
A little less attention is better,
when all he wants is bread n butter
Down to his local corner shop,
in skin tight leggings and a belly top.
He could blend if he wore a sweater,
or maybe brown corduroys would be better.
That’s what a woman would ask,
it had happened in ZIppy's past.
He’d had a wife who he'd loved dearly,
but she couldn't understand him...clearly.
Take off that dress, put on some trousers!
What about mother, think of the neighbors!
It went on like that for years,
lots of heartache, floods of tears.
Even though she was his lover,
he felt like they didn't know each other.
Then on a bight and sunny morning,
came the last, the ultimate warning,
‘Zippy, I want you as a man;
you’re turning me into a lesbian!’
He was forced to wisely choose,
the rubber-wear would surly loose.
He had made his vowels for life,
how could he just leave his (darling) wife?
The only decent thing to do,
was to be loyal, to be true.
But then depression set right in,
when all his beloved rubber was thrown in the bin!
Time stood still for a couple of years,
lots more heart ache, stress and fears.
For he missed rubber in his (now) sad life,
more than he would miss his nagging (dear) wife.
This could not go on forever,
he needed a friend not a jealous lover.
Maybe she didn't’t like his feminine side,
but Zippy loved dear Zipperella with pride.
So one sad day they said goodbye,
with no questioning or reasoning why.
It was how it was meant to be,
she was free, and so was SHE!
Alone again but not as much,
much more honest, much more in trust.
For Zipperella loves all things feminine,
now the woman he holds dearest lives within…him.
(Author Notes
fella: man
Marigold: washing up gloves
Tube: london underground
Transmuters: a brand of boots with frankenstein style heels with big studs)
I asked Eddy on this and he asked me who told me. I said one of the lads but I don’t want you hurting him. He was fine. I said I knew a bank robber when I was in the south before. They’re what I call alternative businessmen. They rob a bank and don’t have to be wage slaves. They know the risks and the cash is actually insured so is paid back to the bank.
There was in issue with a young Pakistani lad. Words were said as Eddy was close to a very pretty Asian lady who the lad also liked. There was a bit of pushing and shoving in the cake storage area. Later both said sorry and shook on it.
Eddy came back to work as he was fired due to an incident. This led to another display of his temper. He had a pal who had a Queen’s crown neck tattoo. They both had a row. They were ten or twenty yards apart and such was Eddy’s word that his mate took a step back! This was after he argued with the bakery manager, a woman who was like a bloke. She took it and gave it back.
Time moved on and I left the bakery. I worked briefly in Littlewoods in Shaw. And who did I see there? Eddy! My opening words to him were: “Where’s my guinea pig?”
It was cool to see Eddy there. I missed him. We chatted and I told him of the incident I saw with his pal. He said did I see it and I replied I did, all of it. It was funny looking back but Eddy could’ve hurt his pal seriously. I’m glad he didn’t.
We worked in the warehouse picking and packing orders. There was another incident with a young Pakistani guy again. Words were said and Eddy gripped him and let’s say told him off. The Pakistani reported the ex armed robber to the supervisors. The two were separated on different floors. Eddy went to the guy’s work area and ‘told him’ off again! The guy never said a bad word to Eddy ever again.
Eddy told me his dad owned a pub near where I used to live. He dad was a big fan of both Numan and Bowie, the superb 80s singers. His dad liked both the same not one over the other.
I wish I’d have spent more time talking to Eddy as he was the real deal. We civilians don’t get to meet real life gangsters very often, part of the underworld. I’m not talking about stealing cars or shop lifting. Eddy was the real deal. If he robs more banks I want him to remain free. I hope he’s fine and healthy right now. Did you know he also had an A Level in art? He was quite a guy.
***
The rain was pouring, thunder in the distance
Her tattered coat offered no resistance
I saw her walking, soaking wet
Filled with anger and regret
Cast aside from all she’s known
Living in a cardboard home
I had to know what caused her fate
What filled her heart with all this hate
I stopped the car and called her near
She looked at me with eyes of fear
I said, “I’d like to chat with you”
She said, “chatting’s all we’ll do”
She climbed inside, we drove away
Stopped at a coffee shop along the way
I asked what had happened in her life
Why she wasn’t someone’s wife
She said, “I was, I had it all
Husband, kids, shopped at the mall
But we lost our love, I began to stray
He took the kids and went away”
“I had no skills, never went to school
Looking back now, I was such a fool
Pretty soon, the house was gone
I was out on the street and all alone”
“Husband told the kids I was nothing but trash
So, I guess my family’s all in the past
Now, I wander around, stop at the kitchen
They give me some food and listen to my bitchin”
“They think I’m crazy and that’s okay
If they were in my shoes, they wouldn’t last a day
It’s a hard life out here, you get beat up and spit on
But sometimes, someone will toss you a bone”
“And they’ll tell you not to spend it all on booze
Hell, a drink or some food - it’s not hard to choose
You get used to eating the dumpster food
But when you get a buck or two, hot food’s so good”
I had bought her the special, she was eating it slow
Didn’t want to go out in the rain, I know
We talked a while longer, then I had to leave
I handed her a twenty, she tucked it in her sleeve
I asked the manager if she could stay for a while
He looked at her and gave me a smile
He said she could stay till the rain let up
And he walked over to fill up her coffee cup
I was walking past her, she grabbed my hand
She said, “It doesn’t take much to get where I am
It could just as easily be you sitting here”
I walked away fighting back a tear
It’s true what she said, just a paycheck away
A bad set of circumstances on any given day
Now I look at the homeless a whole different way
I don’t pass them by with nothing to say
I look in their eyes and I see their pain
I do what I can to help them regain
A little of the dignity, lost to the world
Before their life had become unfurled.
I have tried to teach people
that saving ten dollars per week
together, as a group of people
can create wealth
If you invest each week
and help it grow,
you could buy off the internet
and sell through garage sales,
watch television
you could go to
secondhand markets
and sell at auctions
You can buy equipment
and start your own cleaning service
thousand of people could add to my ideas
one hundred people saving ten dollars per week
Could be used to buy houses
one thousand dollars per week
fifty-two thousand dollars per year
the deposit every year for a house
the planet has six billion people
six billion people times ten dollars per week
is sixty billion times fifty-two
the money to build anything
Desalination plants
factories
anything you can imagine
granted there would be problems
people buy houses
sometimes tenants won't pay rent
people buy, franchises
and some lose thousands
We can all watch the news
and see the risks of small business
five of six small shops
shut down, across the road from us
I presume, they could have made a profit
but some shops, never have customers
with rents wages and running cost
going into business is hard
yet if people don't go into business
nobody would have jobs
the word on the street, people say
companies get away
with not paying tax
maybe that's the truth
but companies pay wages
and workers pay tax from those wages
So indirectly companies do pay tax
I watched a female manager
who owned a coffee shop saying
it's not fair, the wages a too high
I can't take time off I can't afford the costs
every day she worked and struggled
to make a profit, business is hard
but growing small business
is what builds your economy
Mr Bill Gates started micro soft
from his back yard
now it makes
thousands of dollars per second
Imagine what he could do
with an investment
of sixty billion dollars per week
But I can't afford ten dollars per week
well that's true when people get only
seventeen cents an hour
when people live in poverty
Watching their children die
ten dollars per week
would be more than they could afford
That why I suggested
Encouraging Industrialized nations
employees to become investors first
ten dollars per week is just half a pack of smokes
you spend more going out to the pictures