Roebuck Poems

Merry Mushroom Canister Set

In the 1970’s, merry mushroom canisters were offered by Sears Roebuck
Many of us put them into our wish lists, along with a sponge-holding duck later I learned that mushrooms meant pot, but at first I did not know
I cherished these canisters for their earthy whimsy; I truly loved them so….

My Childhood Christmas

The folded corners and wrinkled pages
of catalogs that were tattered and ripped
From the first of October until late in December
we drooled,
we fawned,
we lusted, 
we swooned and giggled
mutilating each page
until the pictures faded.

Sears and Roebuck, 
Monkey Wards 
JC Penny’s, 
Macy’s, Mattingly’s, K-mart.
Our wish list grew long
more than one sheet could hold
tears welled up with each toy crossed out.
Until the list was whittle down 
Though the likelihood of getting any was nill.

But still
That’s why we called it the book of wishes.
If wants and wishes were hugs and kisses
There would be no need 
to thumb through the pictures
and dream.
Perhaps imagination was the best Christmas gift

For Oscar On His 13th Birthday

His the archer’s bow, straight his arrowhead
  on foot and trail swift as the running deer,
and long his hair the eagle feathers spread
  in the buckskin war bonnet he does wear.
My boy the dreamcatcher, the hunter brave
  in buffalo horn and porcupine quills -
ghost of the warrior chief in the grave
  whose heart lies on the plains and in the hills.
Where beats a drum and burns a campfire -
  a child of the Great Spirit in the sky,
like the roebuck leaping farther, higher,
  chasing a dream in the wind and the rye.
You are the Indian bark, the sacred tree,
a totem from the depth and breadth of me.


               Written: March 2013

A Look Back, a Look Ahead

French was the international language
    Brittania ruled the waves
  Sears-Roebuck a retail behemoth
    American Indians still called braves

  China an enigma wrapped in a riddle
    The U.S. in a major depression
  Germany'd elected a bar-room brawler
    A dangerous, goose-stepping hessian...

  Looking back, it's quite surreal
    Looking ahead, hard to get a feel
  Don't know if it's all real or illusion ~
    Or ends from the fallout of nuclear fusion

Deer Dear

settling in forests
deer* and doe freely flourish...
soon, their antlers nailed

*Deuteronomy 14:5 The hart, and the roebuck, and the fallow deer, and the wild goat, and the pygarg, and the wild ox, and the chamois.

April 11, 2022
4th place, "Wild Animal Haiku" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin; judged on 4/18/2022.

Daybreak

Dawn breaks and soon the light dilutes the dark,
The lazy sun climbs high to make her mark.
Her slow awakening, lighting up the sky,
As tomtits flit and tweet their morning cry.

The crouching pheasant colours dawns first breath
And stealthily appears from night times death.
The wood mouse noses from his hidden hollow
As like the cock bird, knows, his time is borrowed.

The roebuck hiding deep in dawns damp hue,
Steps out, to graze, against a wall of blue.
The sun continues warming winters grasp
And bumbling badgers find repose at last.

The Christmas Stag

I am the stag of seven tines
The yule stag
a roebuck in the thicket 
I am the ever hunted messenger of life
5 days during the years end I run
5 days the fey door stands open
5 days pursued by grim death and his hounds
Hard upon my heels
Hasten ready the sun calls 
Quicken, race, a son is born
Bringing the yuletide season great cheer 
With bells on my antlers, they ring
Flying on Windsong delighting the little king
Flying cross the sunrise
Past a winter sea, I sail
Seeing the ship to see his nativity
Far behind us weep the willows still
Bent with ice as frozen tear,
And branches frail.
Passed the cottage bright with candle
Yellow flame against the night, nearby in a manger
lovely mother Jesus cradling
Joyful tears hitting ground
Prayers answered in holy child 
Angel guard against pale moonlight
Closer to the little king I stumble 
and bow my head to Mary's little baby,
Death stops, hounds halt their baying
All is quiet, grim death himself bows and turns. 
I bow again to the lord of all life 
Precious king of all peace and light
Crowned by a star, gold, frankincense, and myrrh,
All this moonlit night.

The Game

THE GAME


We would gather slowly
“toss” the bat, choose sides,
use the “least battered” ball,
the only bat we had.
The girls played too,
chosen because they
could play….often before
some of us boys.  We
knew they were better
so it wasn’t taken personal.
The kid who wore the
Sears and Roebuck “Husky”
jeans played right field.
He was slow, he didn’t
get one of the treasured
gloves.  He batted fourth,
cleanup hitter.
He could really hit.
The “infielders” got gloves.
The infield was an almost
grassless, rock strewn field.
The bases were scratched
into the dirt with the bat.
The “game” lasted forever.
As kids were called away,
“substitutes” would take
their place.  Younger,
less experienced little brothers
and sisters, earning their time,
learning the game, touching
the heartbeat of summer.
The game would “pause”
for lunch, be put on hold
at supper, would be thought about,
talked about, dreamt about,
until …….



2/11/2017

submitted to – THE NATIONAL PASTIME – poetry contest

Mary, Mary

Mary, Mary

Mary, Mary, where yall be
Behind the shed I see
Sitting on a bucket
Two shakes and blow
Snakes eyes rolls

Mary, Mary, where yall  be
Gosh darn, dang it
Wrestling with Billy
over a piece of watermelon
One lick to the eye
cheek swell , black eye

Mary, Mary, where yall  be
I havn’t got a lick of work out of yall
dern tootin,  when I gits yall ,
Yall find yourself in a heap of trouble
Yall britches won’t have
a Sears and  Roebuck book

© Eve Roper 4/21/2015

The Dive

Experiment, the worth of kings,
no bonafide adventuring
not impinge, glory, noticing,
the trial of "over" ~ SING, BUT SING!

And over, 'til the mode be right,
that last decision, still up tight.
I've felt it oft, all nerves on edge,
have gone too far, my reasons dredge!

It is Inventing, cant resign,
the pulse of difference is my rhyme,
I'll just dive in, for one more time,
then still dig in, this idea's mine!

What closer skill can Man divine,
than right to change, with purpose fine,
not to relinquish my own kind
but build with vision, some new find!

To heal some soul . . . . from mortal bind!


Working with Inventors from the Midwest, some Immigrants, some of the ideas we saw become developed were ~ The radial tire, the round swing, round hay bale,
vise-grip, portable phone, highway breakers, tarps for Semis, ethanol plants, water cleaning equipment, faux diamonds, negative ion air machines, compost ideas, turn signals for autos.  We worked on Patents in Omaha, Nebraska ~ Inventors from Denmark, etc.  Ideas built America, Corporations like Sears Roebuck, helped the little guy.  Let's get America back to those "ideals!"

Free Cee Keep Over Priced In Christmas

P OVER-PRICED IN CHRISTMAS

To hell with Hallmark and their bourgeois cards of greeting
Sent to wives from guilty husbands who are always cheating
Or to that teenage blonde who wiggles for older men only
Sent from a young teenage boy who she leaves lying lonely

To hell with Macy’s and their senile Santa in a cheap suit
To hell with their sales with which honesty has a major dispute
I have no tears for Sears and no bucks for Roebuck too
And to The Home Depot and Loews I say to both buck you

The commercials on television go on adfinitum
While commercialism and greed become an item
There’s fake snow and snowballs that never melt
While the Santa in Macy’s is made to tighten his belt

Wal-Mart and K-Mart both sell the same damned crap
But at Macy’s your little brat can sit on Senile Santa’s soiled lap
These are all places where compassion and Christmas spirit is defied
And I don’t think a really good Christmas sale is why our savior Jesus died
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE….~free cee!~

In Beryl's Wake

Wood Storks rock! They skewer 
the word purer with a white-
on-white the envy of any housewife's 
Monday wash, or laundry delivered home 
by women with baskets on their heads
after drying in the noonday sun 
in which only mad dogs and Englishmen go out, 
(or those with no Sears Roebuck 
connections).

Take heed, Ye hawkers of detergent 
wares, lascivious for new insignia. 
Send old trademarks to old obliv-ia, 
Take a winged design to fly away grime.  
And, while you're at it, add the color 
red for bloodshed in the marketplace, 
perfect hue for Madison Avenue.   

In tropic times, our storks, 
shelve safe haven from the branches 
on which no one lays laundry-- only their 
flawless selves.  They know a storm 
with a woman's name can put to shame 
all others,  and when Beryl's done 
and on the run, they return to bond in 
motherland, the moment seized: 
a genetic lust for oedipal trees.

The World of the One Percent

The World of the One Percent

By Elton Camp

The super rich is who these folks are
More wealthy than old Croesus by far

They reside in the most fabulous estate
Privacy protected by a guarded gate

A mansion with elevators & indoor pool
Where as kings and queens they rule

Sparkling clean and always kept that way
By staff:  butler, maids, cooks and the valet 

“The master is quite indisposed,” they say
To any who may attempt to visit that day

Breakfast in bed they can anytime enjoy
Where they is nothing around to annoy

Even doctors willingly pay them a house call
As do stylists, masseurs, barbers—one and all

Personal shoppers go out to buy their clothes
Unless a tailor comes—it’s sure one of those

For it is only poor folks, down on their luck
Who have go and shop at Sears & Roebuck

Since only the little people pay income tax
In carrying their fair load they are found lax

Certainly, no self indulgences do they spare
For the uncouth masses they have little care

Unless James brings around the limousine
It’s in a mere $200,000 car they are seen

A world of incredible privilege is theirs 
Where they relax without having any cares

This Poem Is Sure To Get Me Thrown Off This Room Forever But It Is Worth It

KEEP OVER-PRICED IN XMAS

to hell with hallmark and their bourgeois cards of greeting
purchased predomantly by husbands who are cheating
while their eyes are fixed on a teenage blonde who wiggles for older men only
as she leaves her high school fling on Christmas day feeling lost and lonely

to hell with macy's and their senile Santa in a cheap suit
to hell with their sales with which veracity has a dispute
i shed no tears for Sears and Roebuck too
and to The Home Depot and it's ilk I say "buck you"

there's fake snow and fake snowballs that will never melt
as Senile Santa loosens his belt and takes another belt
Walmart and K-Mart sell the same damned crap
but at Macy's your brat gets to sit on senile Santa's soiled lap

the ads for toys on television go on ad infinitum
while commercialism and greed become an item
these are all places where Christ and Christmas spirit is defied
and I don't think a really good sale is why my Savior Jesus died
          (c) 2011.....phree

Sweet Grandparents

They ask, "What's the sweetest thing that's happened to you"?
I would have to reply, "It started when I was two".
That is when I, Mother, sister and brother,
went to live with our Grandpa and Grandmother.

They both sacrificed, from that day forward,
working long, hard hours, always undeterred.
To give us a home and happy memories.
It couldn't have been better, for Mom and us three.

Mom worked evenings at the Sears and RoeBuck store.
Grandpa at the publishers, working on the printing floor.
Grandma changed jobs to the school cafeterias,
so when we were home from school, she could be near us.

Grandpa was our dad, in our hearts and minds.
Growing up with two Moms was a terrific time.
Yes, living with our Grandparents was a special world.
I grew up to be a very thankful girl.

What's the sweetest thing that has ever happened?
It started when I was two, and has never slackened



For the contest'Sweetheart"
Hosted by Tirzah Conway
Placement: 5th place

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