#supplies - Hello Poetry

Better not to count on society or God -- Provide for supplies.

0

Mar 16, 2024

Mar 16, 2024 at 4:24 AM UTC

Zywa

[ Better not to count ]

Better not to count on society or God -- Provide for supplies.

3

I buy my paintings supplies from the only store in town ————————————————————————- <> I buy my paintings supplies from the only store in town, Jack’s on Bridge Street, the hardware *** toy *** anything-you-need store. I buy my painting supplies by special order, delivered by ferry,where they get crazed at the colors I select, Vermillion, Drunk-tank pink, and the marvelous, quite scandalous, ***** Gallant. My easel resides on my front porch, never moved, only when a wipe down is necessitated, or rain storm torrential makes it essential, to avoid warping wood. From the porch, I paint the view, from my house on the hill, overlooking the channel separating our tiny isle from the mainland is deemed magical amazing, for this same scene painted repeatedly, but differently, a thousand times, a thousand changing ways. Almost every home, only for the year rounders, has its own version, so my obituary, will be both in the town newspaper and forever before their eyes. I do not sell my paintings, the ones supplied, gifted by my island. Unasked, I notice that someone walks past my porch, my existence thus a daily-verification, in every season, but for the winter, but then, my presence is marked, publicized, nonetheless, duly reported, by Jack’s delivery boys.

0

Apr 20, 2020

Apr 20, 2020 at 10:37 AM UTC

island-poet

I buy my paintings supplies from the only store in town

I buy my paintings supplies from the only store in town ————————————————————————- <> I buy my paintings supplies from the only store in town, Jack’s on Bridge Street, the hardware *** toy *** anything-you-need store. I buy my painting supplies by special order, delivered by ferry,where they get crazed at the colors I select, Vermillion, Drunk-tank pink, and the marvelous, quite scandalous, ***** Gallant. My easel resides on my front porch, never moved, only when a wipe down is necessitated, or rain storm torrential makes it essential, to avoid warping wood. From the porch, I paint the view, from my house on the hill, overlooking the channel separating our tiny isle from the mainland is deemed magical amazing, for this same scene painted repeatedly, but differently, a thousand times, a thousand changing ways. Almost every home, only for the year rounders, has its own version, so my obituary, will be both in the town newspaper and forever before their eyes. I do not sell my paintings, the ones supplied, gifted by my island. Unasked, I notice that someone walks past my porch, my existence thus a daily-verification, in every season, but for the winter, but then, my presence is marked, publicized, nonetheless, duly reported, by Jack’s delivery boys.

13

Dear paperclip You never slip All day you hold Documents untold No one ever stops to thank The one who is of little rank But I shall stop and pay my dues To the one who is now my muse So thank you dearest friend For all the help that you lend.

0

Mar 26, 2020

Mar 26, 2020 at 2:31 PM UTC

Des-ire

Dear paperclip

Dear paperclip You never slip All day you hold Documents untold No one ever stops to thank The one who is of little rank But I shall stop and pay my dues To the one who is now my muse So thank you dearest friend For all the help that you lend.

10

I have to come out.. I won't offer lies.. there's something I just can't disguise, my tastes are different than other guys.. I'm simply in love with chicken *** pies! It started when I was quite small in size, when mom shopped for her weekly supplies. She worked all day and thought it'd be wise to make *** pies one of her regular buys. Loved 'em then, and this truth still applies- Don't give me fried chicken wings or thighs, don't serve a burger with greasy old fries, don't cook fancy foods and don't improvise.. There's one taste sensation I dearly prize! The best frozen meal you could ever devise! If you want to impress or want to surprise, just cook up a couple of chicken *** pies! Now that this poem has reached its demise, I'll pre-heat the oven and say my goodbyes.

0

Feb 3, 2020

Feb 3, 2020 at 10:00 AM UTC

skip-cope

Chicken *** Pies

I have to come out.. I won't offer lies.. there's something I just can't disguise, my tastes are different than other guys.. I'm simply in love with chicken *** pies! It started when I was quite small in size, when mom shopped for her weekly supplies. She worked all day and thought it'd be wise to make *** pies one of her regular buys. Loved 'em then, and this truth still applies- Don't give me fried chicken wings or thighs, don't serve a burger with greasy old fries, don't cook fancy foods and don't improvise.. There's one taste sensation I dearly prize! The best frozen meal you could ever devise! If you want to impress or want to surprise, just cook up a couple of chicken *** pies! Now that this poem has reached its demise, I'll pre-heat the oven and say my goodbyes.

18

A pack of wolves is Sometimes preferable To a pack of cigarettes Makes for a coup de grâce A merciful death And I’m fresh out of wolves

0

Jun 8, 2017

Jun 8, 2017 at 4:51 AM UTC

gabriel-burns

Grayed

A pack of wolves is Sometimes preferable To a pack of cigarettes Makes for a coup de grâce A merciful death And I’m fresh out of wolves

6