Trolleys Poems | Examples

Grocery Woes

As so many shoppers
consistently doing all manner of wrong
fail to return their trolleys
from whence they came to where they belong
it really irks when I leave work
drive my hybrid to the supermarket
circle the car park for what seems hours
and can't find a place to park it
the question may seem odd to some
and yet I have to ask it
why don't those self-same lazy people
do to it what they'd do with a shopping basket

SIX WOMEN PATIENTS

   SIX WOMEN PATIENTS 

Six broken women lay down to rest
brown bodies all in a row
six long stories to tell with jest
six smiles with a million tears
race around ward releasing fears 
just so

Six windows uncurtained offers 
six sunny acacias buffered 
trolleys reel, pills and bottles steep
surgeon makes his rounds with a nod
six students in tow
asking six silly questions to know
just so

Six hard beds high, sigh-slept many
linen stiff as a new penny 
squishy meal of mieliepap mixed veggies
making six quite edgy
whose next for operation table no-one knows
they can though still touch their toes
just so

six sets of eyes close for night
dream of kids, chicken pie, golden flights
needles, nurses, morphine gone
no slips on escalator or hip joint pain
they reconnect their own wires, abiding fires
flowing into Aegian sea as African queens

awake back in ward, still here
wee patients not free, see ?
Matron says ‘Go pee’
just so

BE IN THE VALLEYS ON TROLLEYS

As some traditional leaders 
joining some politicians 
their people finding
screaming in deep valleys  
On the trolleys 
and no one to uplifting
them quickly.

Games Not Straight

Games not straight


Toffs on horses still killing foxes.
Boris parties while we put nans in boxes.          Chancellor won’t pay his rate.
I tell you now, the games not straight .

Palace pays millions to get rid.
Mum shops at food bank  to feed her kid.
This aint the thirties,check the date.
I tell you now the games not straight.

Multi Nationals won’t pay their fees.
Old age pensioners sit and freeze.
Patients on trolleys told to wait.
I tell you now the games not straight

Public Relations

Trolleys on a relay
In a supermarket
To lend you a helping hand 
To lighten up your burden
But to clear a paradox
PR goes all out to display
The organisation's heart and mind
With tolerance,understanding
Sincerity and genuineness
And to read the public reflections
To read the codes of their hearts
With great patience and perseverance
To see the well beings of 
The public,the organisation and the society
On a triple-win-win-situation
Discarding any selfishness,benefits making,mischieves
And any scandals of course

Corona the Mad Scamper

It is a mad scamper for food and grains,
These are often people with less brains,
Fill up their trolleys with things they don’t need,
store up their kitchens for generations to feed!

What is it now about this greed for toilet rolls?
Buying hundred at once for terminal goals!
The Virus starts from nose up to the lung,
It does nothing to influence human dung!

They don’t know a thing about hand sanitation,
They never washed their hands after ablution,
Now suddenly they want to be super clean,
But storing hundred hand sanitisers is obscene! 

Gran of eighty five is hovering in the store,
Limited pension allows for now and no more,
Two fruits, some bread, milk is all she wants,
But stores are empty thanks to their haunts!

This is a crisis like never seen in many years,
That has brought suffering, death and tears,
This is a test to bring your values to the fore,
To reach out and help humanity even more!

COVID 19 contest
Date written 20/03/2020

Paranoia In the Mall

Drinking black coffee, looking at real people go past
Sitting on my usual seat, as they morph into drones
Pushing shopping trolleys, in a semi-focused trance
Always one step ahead, we occupy alternate time zones

All shapes and sizes, yet behaving in a hive mind
I’m an aloof intruder, detached from their trudge,
the coffee tastes good, much better than my guilt
These people are programmed, I do not begrudge

Still so many go past, inexorably they just won’t stop
With Invisible purpose, that can never be fulfilled,
The collective has left me behind, no I bailed out
Observing my past life, a sham pariah who lost the will

This procession is for me, a paranoid induced outcast
Paid for my coffee, the show was completely free
I’ve had my fill, back into the dreaded shopping mall
Will I be able to blend in, ever try hide a Baobab tree 

By
David Kavanagh

The London Plane In Autumn

City-dweller, indifferent to its site,
It thrives where other trees give up the fight
Against the traffic fumes and air pollution;
Its attractive flaking bark, the solution.
With golden leaves, five-pointed just like maple,
This is the urban tree of choice, the staple.
Like Christmas baubles swinging in the breeze
The seed-heads hang uniquely from these trees.
Camouflage bark – an alien from Mars !
Amid the shopping trolleys and parked cars,
In Waitrose car park standing all alone,
Oblivious to this “No-parking” zone.
It stands with mottled cream, grey and olive uniform –
A benign militia on guard through sun and storm.

Saturday Downtown

Saturday Downtown

A sister and brother walking downtown, shops and shows and trolleys; smells of dimestore popcorn, caramel apples, warm nuts, candies, lunch counters, blue plate specials. 

Sheltered beneath the overhangs and awnings, they, sister and brother cling, walking cautiously, as if to touch a stranger might bruise and hurt; he, weak, sickly, leans on her, she supports him, with body, both arms, both hands. 

He's in a cheap pair of dark gabardines, a white starched cotton shirt stained here and there with rust; she's in a stiff dark dirty skirt, white blouse, funny little hat; both down at the heel.

Handsome though, but for the fear apparent on their face, the fear of touching, being touched, of being seen so pained, so poor; of not being seen at all.


2006 July 14

Unspoken Politics

What a sick monster of a man creeping 
around with no morals ramming sick agendas 
Inside twisted ideas down peoples throats
 
All the time smiling in his deeply disturbed soul 
paying his thirty pieces for the ferry man 
Your entry unto the devilish domain 

He disguises himself falsely as caring about people
when the suffering lie on trolleys unattended 
As the homeless keep rising 

Selling off state owned assets without consent 
from the nation he should be prosecuted 
under high treason of the state 

Face the life sentence appropriate to such crime 
Under the eighth ammendment our nations law 
was passed and still stands tall 

We are the land of saints and scholars 
A generation of God's seed 
We will not be involved in such a disgusting pact

One with blood as it's signature 
which has been addressed by this countries kin 
in the constitution clearly written as an unlawful act

He should be imprisoned to have such a biast mind 
closed to the reality of home truth against the living in God's holy book 
his only written words arc of his seed and covenant

A Racist Shopping Trolley

I’m a racist shopping trolley, 
I’m proud and happy and clean.
I don’t like hanging around with trolleys rescued from the river, 
Beaten up all rusty, and mouldy, and green.

I’m proud I look after my wheels,
Never crashing into shelves in the store.
I can’t stand those horrible trolleys that let themselves go,
Making folks fight an unwinnable war.

I’m a racist shopping trolley,
I’ve a bright red handle and red baby seat.
I can’t stand those blue handled trolleys, they look so different to me,
They can’t even try to look red, I know, I’m better, I am elite.

Owl

Owl
That’s me, night owl, 
Good looking, great big eyes, 
Dressed in a feathered coat,
Everybody loves to look at me,
But don’t underestimate me,
I’m the hunter, the stalker,
Watch out! I’ll catch you, eat you,
No escaping from my strong clutches,
Food is easy, swooping down, 
Yum, yum my evening meal,
Moonlight feasts, mammals, and insects.
Don’t have a chance with me,
I see everything and more,
Unlike you humans who have it so easy,
I’ve seen you driving cars,
Going into places called supermarkets,
Strolling around pushing trolleys,
Picking up your meat from shelves, 
Modern day people!
I see you from my woodland home,
Pulling up to your houses, 
Storing your food in cold places,
You didn't know! I was watching you,
Having very long vision, seeing from the darkness around,
I’m clever! I’m wise! May give you a clue, 
Reminding you! I’m here,
Just two hoots that’s me! Mysterious! Wise.

Out the Library Window

Water that ripples
Beside the shade that creeps
Over the friends that talk and laugh
About the day of work at worn desks
With tired legs
On a weary floor
That’s caressed feet and listened
To quiet commotion of rickety trolleys
That yearns for smooth planes
Like glass of a fish tank
Holding 	
Water that ripples 
Beside the shade that creeps.

Population Noise

Metropolis…
a cackling cacophony of confusion
energizing some and enrages others.
Concrete and steel giants,
loom forebodingly over the masses;
blocking out gifts of the sun.

The maze that tires me from constant searching; 
why am I here in this overcrowded and hopeless abyss?
The bang-clang trucks and trolleys, 
beat out their metronomic, one…two...beat 
and the drone of engines, 
sings a tired ballad of the modern world.

Cities are the lairs of bad-tempered dragons;
harboring too many precious trinkets.
Vulnerable souls are the noonday snacks,
devoured by cold-blooded sharks.

Tell

TELL

Alternative worldview as I sit on my throne, 
trolleys in the car park only purpose to exist. 
Tell me what is it like to be a pond? 
See a mirror in your smooth serene exterior, 
are you reeling inside under the surface like me? 
Danger of drying up in summer stagnant stinking water. 
Frozen solid two seasons later hard as stone. 
Are you me or am I you?
Fake personality, make believe, make up to hide 
what it’s all about. Smoke and mirrors conquer naked truth, any day.

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