In the museum of my kitchen,
I excavate the strata of days,
coffee rings on the counter like tree rings,
each circle marking a morning survived.
The clock on the wall is a liar,
pretending its hands move forward
when really they spiral inward,
tightening like a fist around memory.
I find artifacts everywhere:
a receipt from three years ago,
a shopping list in handwriting
I recognize but can no longer claim as mine.
Time doesn't pass, it accumulates.
It settles like dust in corners,
builds up like plaque on teeth,
layers itself like sediment in stone.
Yesterday exists in geological time:
compressed, fossilized, permanent.
Tomorrow is still vapor, still forming
in the atmosphere above my head.
But today?
Today is the thin line
where excavation meets deposition,
where what I've been becomes
what I'm busy burying.
I am both archaeologist and artefact,
both the digger and the dug,
slowly revealing myself to myself
one careful brushstroke at a time.
It could be mistaken for a shopping list,
or a set of instructions
for assembling a bookshelf,
but you had to go and call it a poem!
Eventually you learn
by the daily application of ignorance and error,
to ride a poem as if it were a unicycle
even so, the larger the wheel
the greater the chance
of a slow-motion fender-bender.
Unless you want to be metaphorically crucified
or theoretically burnt at a stake
for God’s sake don’t give this thing that you do
any kind of definitive name.
Hinged or unhinged they are most often
just thoughts squiggling up to a surface
like worms after a heavy rain,
simply deconstructed word-worms,
but that’s okay
you already said that,
so now you can look cool
and kind of a deep thinker.
top of her shopping list
paracetamol
and a lottery ticket
Oh, can you hear that jingle
You can tell it by its smell
Your skin begins to tingle
And you feel like you're in hell
The "Benjamins" just bit you
Got that look of dull surprise
Your shopping list won't fit you
Cuz, everything fits your eyes
When passing by the store
All those bells begin to ring
Then you're thru the open door
And you'll try on anything
It's time for all consumers
To say hello to Barter
Put down those ugly bloomers
Might make you look much smarter
Oh, can't you hear him holler
He's a devil in disguise
But, what good is that dollar
When there's pennies on your eyes
It's goodbye to "Uncle Bens"
I can't say that I'll miss you
I just pray this madness ends
But, most just can't resist you
Ah dear angel, there’s no time without flesh
But only space where we are lost and formless
It would be nice of you to press refresh
Back into picture we’ll return from nothingness
You smile at me like you’ve no words to say
My shopping list completed, so I’ll go
While I’m alive I have to use at max each day
Until the evening, when you may let me know
What I forgot, what should be rearranged
You send a message that explains the time I waste
On things I didn’t start and anyway can’t change
But the delivery’s delayed, I have to wait…
They asked me, “Why do you love her?”
As if love could be taken apart and neatly categorized,
Like items on a shopping list.
They wanted me to speak on your eyes,
The way they draw me in and keep me lost.
They wanted me to speak on your smile,
The very smile that I would kill to see.
They wanted me to speak on your voice,
The sound that quiets the pandemonium within my head.
But the truth is, I never needed a reason to love you.
It’s simply a part of me,
Etched into my skin the day I was born.
From my eyes, love isn’t about reasons or checkboxes.
It isn’t about slotting perfectly into some predefined notion.
I don’t love you because you are beautiful.
I don’t love you because you are intelligent.
I don’t love you for what you give me or how you make me feel.
I love you because you awaken something within me.
With you, I don’t just exist, I thrive.
My world isn’t dead flowers and rain clouds anymore.
It’s perfect roses and daffodils.
It’s sunlight that shines peaceful rays down on my skin.
And that’s why I love you.
I came upon a centipede
whose family was in need -
sad news.
How, said I, can I assist?
Let's write a shopping list -
please choose.
There's just one thing
that, for us, you can bring -
that's shoes.
a shipmaster in love
The boat that left at sunset didn't have red sails
but fading sunlight painted grey sail red
even though the vessel was not going to China
not this year or any other year, the Oriental
wanted to know why he lost two wives
in, the short span of seven years
His third wife sees the boat disappear from
the safety of her verandah she doesn't like
a vessel moves and stays at home
She is secure, and pregnant, a feat his other wives
managed, hence that's why he sold them to
a bordello in Tashkent
the boat is a brigantine made of Canadian wood
the timber has the habit of groaning when
sails have no wind and days appear longer than
when a storm is brewing
The captain has a shopping list for his third wife
gave him, about buying figs in Sumatra and
coconuts in Congo, the captain smiles, his wife
she has never seen a map
"One More Monchielle Stanza"
This January day
I took a pleasant walk.
It’s sixty-one degrees.
I’m relishing this time
before the brutal freeze.
This January day
from my front porch I hear
young children play outside.
Jack Frost is coming soon.
His breath we can’t abide.
This January day
I’ll fill my shopping list,
for I won’t venture out
when highs are in the teens
and ice sheathes every route.
This January day
is much like all the rest
for those who have to work.
Ice storms, they can’t avoid;
their duties, they can’t shirk!
For Terry Flood,* since you insist,
Here, in rhyme’s my shopping list:
Orange juice and Starbuck’s (iced,
Even though it’s overpriced),
Bagels, Swiss and muenster cheese,
Whitefish salad, frozen peas,
Broccoli and salad greens,
Carrots, berries, nectarines,
Melons, muffins, chocolate treats,
Licorice or gummy sweets,
Ice cream, cookies, corn chips, bread,
Hummus, pesto, peppers (red),
Eggs and butter, IPA’s,
Pasta meant for many days,
Chicken, mushrooms, sometimes meat –
Think that makes my list complete.
(For omissions, I’m to blame
Since rhyme, not shopping, was my aim!)
*a fellow poet on Poetry Soup
She’d a shopping list in her bag
Long since lost in the mess
But she could remember it vaguely…
Dammit .... she’d just have to guess
She grabbed a trolley out of the garden
It squealed and it see-sawed
No wonder because one of the wheels
Went backward instead of forward
She shot in through the doorway
And breathed a deep breath in
Her total focus needed now
To avoid financial ruin
Starting off with a hiss and a roar
She was soon completely absorbed
At looking at expensive delights
None of which she could afford
So she dillied and she dallied
With choices designed to confuse
She was temporarily suckered in
By an offer to good to refuse
Finally finished, she staggered
Trolley piled up high and bulging
To the self-serve checkout queue
She had regrets about indulging
Wearily she scanned her goods
Then let out an almighty groan –
After all that bloody effort
She’d left her visa card at home
It has been two years
I didn't go shopping
My shopping list left blank
Compare with last time
I went everyday
Though I bought little
But the cheapest bargains
Just wandering about most of the time
Killing time
And adding pleasure
I saved a lot
During MCO
And now I wonder
What should I put on the list
Suddenly I got the answer
I want to buy happiness, health and safety
And just these
No materialistic
But only spiritual
These I never think of befòre
But only after many people
Lost their lives
Happiness and health
During the epidemic of Covid 19
Only then and only then
I wake up
To do good
And to learn to behave always
As I am lucky to have the chance
And so you too
Everywhere this man happened to go
He carried his case was always in tow
The contents of the case I'd like to know
Was it for work or is it just for show ?
I decided then I would do me some spying
Really curious what's inside I'm not lying
Just a bit of tact needs to be applying
Then I can find out without even trying
So I followed this man through every street
The contents of the case is nearly complete
Thank goodness I say as I have aching feet
The case now open out came a written sheet
Of course I was at a distance and couldn't see
What was written on the paper was baffling me
For I know it could be his shopping list for tea
Will have to leave it there and let this man be
Our fridge is full to bursting –
The food arrived today.
It’s always nice to see so much
Just waiting, on display.
The staples we rely on
Plus, of course, a little splurge –
Today it was a key lime pie
For which I had the urge.
The fruit and veggie bins are stuffed;
The shelves are crammed as well.
We’ve not forgotten anything,
As far as I can tell.
So now we can begin the job,
Which I cannot resist,
Of digging in, until it’s time
For our next shopping list.
*(a poem in Senryus)*
You don’t have to count,
when you lose a boyfriend, you
know. There was just one.
He was gone before
I knew it - he wasn’t, you know,
tied up or anything.
For a moment I
toy with saying, “Alexa, add
rope to my shopping list."
In High School boyfriends
come and go - it's like shopping
- where you return things.
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