Short Pocketbook Poems

The pocketbook
Thrown upon
The car seat
Hangs precariously
Unzipped  


First attempt at 
Gogyohka
Haven't a clue if correct...

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Coco Chanel gel
Fifty dollars = six ounces 
Sample last how long

Rub a little on 
Each morning just feel richer
Ackchu allergy

Too rich for my pocketbook anyway...

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A pocketbook of grins
deprived of rightful glory,
passion, and peace
unionized candles
like smeared lip stick
upon subconscious intellect
layered with finite faces

By Glenn McCrary

© 2012 Glenn McCrary (All rights reserved)...

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Incessant longings sail on my ocean of tears,

The thoughts of you lingering,

the loss of you sears the heart like the branding of an ox.



Reading back the memories, like reading  from the end

to the beginning of a pocketbook,

Pictures flitter beckoning the past, but alas,

You already have moved on....

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Balancing your pocketbook,
Umbrella and a bag
While the wet relentless rain
Accosts you is a drag.

Whipping wind is adding fuel
To metaphoric fire.
Wish that where you’re going
There would be a waiting dryer.

Nothing you can do when days
Are windy, wild and wet
Except to know that once you’re soaked,
No wetter can you get!...

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I see love
wetting a napkin
cleaning a frowning face

I see love
holding a pocketbook
outside the ladies dressing room

I see love
walking slowly
holding hands

I see love
hurrying to keep up
laughing

I see love weeping
the joy of a life together
seeping out

I see love
looking back at me

I know love
for I have been seen
                             …………loving

7/19/2021

I See Love – Poetry Contest...

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Living on mama’s dollar,
Living on papa’s dime,
Living in hard times,
Playing card games,
Paying no mind to squalor,
I get high on crime,
And when the pocketbook gets thin
I’m still a bawler,
Because I’m living on mama’s dollar
Living while papa’s doing time
In the 9 to 5
While I dispatch rhymes
And whine about paradigms
How do you expect me to survive,
When I’ve never been deprived

Humboldt State University, 2014...

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utterly bewildered 
I stood by the nightfall
of stilly midsummer
withering away
with my
westward companion

the glimmering light
of former fears
and penitent pocketbook
faded in a distance
and the imperious presage
of perfunctory morrow
drifted with driftwood
into the vast greenish seas

then the evening was renewed
with foliage flavor
willows and poplars
entwined and enthralled
and according to accordion
divine divers live in flatlands...

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I always have a notebook
That I tuck inside my bag.
If somehow I misplaced it,
That would really be a drag.

I use it for my daily writings
If I'm not at home;
No matter where I am, I'm thus
Prepared to write my poem.

To fit inside my pocketbook,
It must be small and light.
The pages must be lined, of course,
And I prefer them white.

It takes me months to use one up
And then I feel a thrill
As I start a fresh new notebook,
With its empty leaves to fill....

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Our car must wonder why the heck
It isn’t being used.
Cosmetics in my make-up drawer
Are equally confused.

My pocketbook forlornly sits,
Sure it’s been left behind.
My brand-new jumpsuit in the closet’s
Crowded and confined.

My MetroCard and cash are tucked
Inside my wallet’s folds,
Perplexed at never leaving,
Stuck inside their stuffy holds.

I must be going crazy
Thinking ‘bout these lifeless things
But when boredom is the way of life,
Some merriment it brings....

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Why do people pay big bucks
For something by Chanel?
I realize that they’re selling to 
A wealthy clientele…

But I really just don’t get it.
Every pocketbook or such
With that famous logo goes for
What most folks would say too much.

And by that, I’m talking thousands
Just to own, what seems to me,
Quite an ugly choice of purses
With a fancy pedigree.

Still, so many women want them
And I really wish I knew
What’s the root of their attraction,
For I haven’t got a clue....

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