Seller Poems - Poems about Seller

The Flower Seller

The Flower Seller

Amelia wares un- cuticled painted nails, 

She hop scotches a pirate on one leg, 

Tip-toeing long sun cast morning shadows,

beneath billowing hand stitched, salty sails; 

Under an early Sun, fingers whir in a motion sweet, 

directing an imaginary rainbow of colours to run,

In the trodden silk grass; marked in herbs and fallen pears,

The Chicken Seller

I side-stepped the chicken seller
I am an observer in these parts
many, many years ago I knew a song
and worked these very streets, alive
singing, selling, when I was him
this one seems to be surviving, hmm…
but like I say, I'm just here now to observe

The Balloon Seller

Every day, the undercover soldier
Used to buy her big balloons
Red, blue, yellow, green, colourful and free
In those lazy afternoons

She let them fly with a smile on her face
Her laughter ringing around
He watched her do that every single day
And yet bought her balloons round

One day, he had to go for his duty
He gave her pink, new

Fake Goods

What you picked up at the junction 
Will end up serving no function,
Mine; The Bold Voice of Lord God’s seer,
Though the message might stab like spear…

Tears for the buyer of fake good, 
Who’d seen it and forgot to brood;
Our markets they infiltrate, 
More items we adulterate 

The products whose cost is dear:
Because they spellbind, no

Smiles Seller

will never be poor
                      who in this life,
                    lives selling smiles... !

Limerick 1, the Sausage Seller

Limerick 1 – The sausage seller

I used to know a sausage seller called Franz 
Who could never resist a dance
But whenever he was waltzing
Mice were assaulting 
And stealing his wurstchen 
Whenever he gave them the chance.

Top Seller

Once I said, “A great world this would be
if it somehow became excuse-free.”
We no longer could say,
“I will do that some day
if I get around to it. We’ll see!”

If we’re honest, we all will admit
there are times when we don’t want to quit
doing things we enjoy 
to do chores that annoy.
Others’ trust in us then

The News Seller

Callum is an old-fashioned man on the verge of becoming history’s memory

Ancient even in that he holds only one job but that is for privation of another 

Sort of a whiz kid at what he does and his curriculum vitae very straight forward

Has always been a paper boy since back in those days when news

Shady Seller

I will be a witness to this

To all this bad business 

Practice gets lost in the need for money

Quality drops when you question it they act funny

Saying they are right and the customer is the dummy

Are you going to stand or stay for it

Even though you were the one that paid for it

Work hard every

Ice Cream Seller

What's the point of an Ice Cream seller 
In the English Summer Weather
If I wanted a Flake in a soggy cone
On a freezing wet day
Id move to Alaska 
And feed it to a Seal
Or a Polar Bear
In exchange for a Fish
I could turn into a dish
To warm me up
Instead of making me colder
Than I already

The Best Seller

So many good stories inside and every last one is true
Oh! how my Lord Jesus died this from an insiders view
Daniele's new friend the lion or Lots wife turning to salt
Yeah, I know you're not buying and aren't one to exalt 

How 'bout Joseph's amazing journey no the other one
The one who was sold into

You Tough Seller

You
Love
Lord

A Best Seller

A Best Seller

This would make a wonderful song,
When in his arms you always belong
And a great guitar player he now is;
A beat or a note he will never miss.

First song he sang was about me
And how much I was meant to be
While waiting how my heart did beat,
Every time when we both would meet.

Now he

A Carpet Seller and Dali Lama

The Carpet Seller and Dali Lama 

The carpet seller in Cascais is tall wears kaftan and his ebony 
face looks as a relief of an Egyptian Farao…. Carries his carpets
 on his forearm (like an offering) and show to tourists who sit 
drinking cold beer at pavement cafes.  When they ask how much 
he

A Jasmine Garland Seller

A female tongue pushes me down from the swing of sleep.
Rain kids rouse the stink of railway track in the dawn.
A long chain of complaints tinkles on her lips.
Worries about her female children at home
rise up like the black smoke from the train.

His liquor reddened half opened eyes gaze
at the life-like-fan – its rotation makes

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