Saleswoman poems on Hello Poetry

unnamed Feb 2012

The Death of A Cosmetic Saleswoman in Six Parts

Her speech is like gold.
She smiles, sells veils in bulk.
Find bliss in these shrouds.

2.
I cannot save you
But I will make you perfect.
Drink deep from this cup.

3.
Plastic is our king.
Watch me move mountains with it.
Christ was made from me.

4.
Consume me, monster.
Loneliness to be no more.
He says, I'm sorry.

5.
He says, I love you.
Her heart is in the backyard.
The dogs live there now.

6.
Red runs down her arm.
I am a God, she murmurs.
Everything goes black.

ahmo Dec 2016

traveling vase saleswoman

my cerebellum is ever changing,
but in my head there are always vases breaking like a drunken father in an angry fit so that my isolation is never vacant;
my thought patterns are shattered, blood-stained glass.

a furious saleswoman is grasping my hairline at the forehead and pulling the skin off of my scalp from behind,
her friends tying my hands behind my back with rope that is much too tight,
ensuring helplessness over my tumultuous oblivion.

#sad #tired

Turn Off The Lights Jul 2017

Face-off

I created my own mask when I was 8 and crying in the back of a cab.
2. I had taken for granted the joy and happiness but my eyes were seeing through tears and for the very first time I could not breathe under the weight of the stone placed upon my heart and we were driving away and away
and away
3. When the plane took off I stopped crying
4. I do not remember the next 2 years
5. At age 13, I spent 3 years being bullied. During winter I would hold my forehead against the radiator until it burned and burned and I would tell my parents I wasn’t feeling well. They would let me stay home by myself and I would feel such relief at not having to see the people who hurt me. I would end my days in my room hugging my frame and reminding myself I am worth something.
6. At age 16 I took my bag full of my broken self-esteem and destroyed self-worth and left the continent to get a chance at mending myself.
7. It has been years but I still feel worthless sometimes.
8. When I come back to the place where it all took place I get mad. The adults who were supposed to protect me just looked at me down with pity and the family that should have been there for me did not understand that I was not being dramatic this time, Dad, and perhaps the saleswoman skills you praise me for were acquired while bargaining for my life you know nothing. I hid all the places where they broke me under a mask that fit so well over my face I do not know how to get it off. It fits so well you never realized it isn’t me, Dad, Mom, you know something is wrong. I see you staring with wariness when I get lost in thought, my hand creating waves in the wind from the open window of the backseat of your car, but you never say anything.
9. Even if you did speak to me, I wonder what I would be able to explain. I cannot even speak clearly to my psychiatrist.
10. I try. Isn’t it enough to try ?
11. The mask does not come off, not for you, not for him, not for anyone. Not even for myself. I wonder if I will ever see my real face again.

#mask #selfesteem

Green Eyed Blues Feb 2017

Life of a Saleswoman

It's a sellers market
And all I've got to sell is myself
I'll start with the tip of the top
And dye my mop
Move down to the brows
Make them small
Emotions leased
I'll make my lashes long and
My lips greased
Brush red on
Glowing cheeks

It's a sellers market
And all I've got to sell is myself
I'll start with the tip of the top
Make my I.Q. drop
Thoughts and opinions
On lock
Not one to be released
Laugh when I'm told
Give a smile and wink
Whatever I do
Promise not to think

It's a sellers market and the markets low
Cheap deceit
Given in truthful blows
Tried to leave
But what's left I don't know

kayla morrison Feb 2016

Coffee at Work

I stare at the brown ocean
Contained in a translucent cylinder.
White pebbles, the sugar coating bottom

Sweat drips down from the umbrella cap
Sitting out on my desk for hours.
A puddle forms, the ring of time.

I stare longingly at the
Beach towel colored straw
Orange-like the sun
With white stripes

The wing tipped tongue of the saleswoman
Flutters on about numbers
And percentages.

Those numbers, and doodles,
And my face
Reflect in the cylinder.

Bold black letters
are written on the side,
F/V 3C 3S.

Sonya Ki Tomlinson Feb 2019

Snow in the Sahara

The crystal ball is clouded in misty veils
but sometimes a soft wind
rattles, blowing the beaded curtains aside
and we glimpse the enigmatic, the mysterious

In one such revelatory dream:
I was dressed in a black crepe abhaya with
gold Kashmiri trim

My face shrouded in skeins of muslin cloth
there was a knock on the door,
shyly I peeked from behind my niqab

A group of friends gathered outside
encouraging me to go
out with them
Refusing, politely, I explained that I was
fasting for Ramadan.

As the dream faded, I later mentioned it
to a Muslim saleswoman whom we purchased
incense from.

Her eyes grew big as the crescent moon and star
Surprised and startled, excitely she revealed:

"We are celebrating Ramadan right now!"

#ecstatic #poetry #poems #inspirational #nature #god #love #mystical #sacred #sonya

matthew scott harris Sep 2020

Being proactive after getting hoodwinked

(alternatively titled: tardy duff fender of assertiveness,
especially after adjusting following insanity clause
affixed with rubber baby-buggy bumpers)

Methinks I nearly got snookered
courtesy CVS employee at store number 7569
(address: 1206 North Gravel Pike,
Zieglerville, Pennsylvania 19492)
September ninth, two thousand and twenty.

Saleswoman rattled off spiel
regarding CVS Carepass program
the missus immediately
became suspicious of aforementioned deal
every month five dollars
debited from checking account,
figurative highway robbery,
and/or outright steal.

The above trifling
unspectacular wrought scenario
an exception to rule,
whereby yours truly usually
spurred Manichean inner duel
witnessed by guns ablazing
trampling outspokenness
giving Isaac Bashevis Singers,
Gimpel the fool

run for his in dove viz hubble money
now forced into dire straits,
where chicks free yea
how **** sapiens cruel
nasty, short and brutish beastly species
devises sadomasochistic tool
hankering, and hungering to starve
think also about anonymous
innocent tortured soul (me, ha)

kept in solitary confinement,
with no chance of parole
a convict for life i.e. hard skool
of knocks alum deceived
hired, and lobotomized
slave driven human mule
donkey *** tee (hee hee hee),
and fed diet of worms
in tandem with thin gruel.

Far to often annals
constituting mein kampf,
I experienced oblivious naiveté
undergoing blitzkrieg linkedin
with scapegoat honorific,
now sortie give snort against
mine passivity harrumph!

Dan D. yankee from Schwenksville,
Pennsylvania didst doodle and dawdle
planting feather in figurative cap - yay
perceptive sixth sense analogous to xray,
yours truly more wise

to the insidious mean way
dominant nasty, short
and brutish human beasts
Machiavellian bullies instill fear
for egoistic personal gain oye vey

immediately judging me as prime target
oh my dog... early in grade school
threatening hateful taunts got underway
I attest suffering verbal abuse
persists even today

offtime couched within feigned concern,
yet sinister motives at heart stay
anger toward able, eager and ready
poetic tactics launched courtesy shipshape quay
zee reasonably rhyming literary barbs to portray,

how creative poetic technique can outweigh
Norse (er horse) sense
scrawled by Lake Woebegone
bachelor farmers' guardian angels
originally harkening from Norway
deported to Normandy Farms,

including me nonagenarian papa,
cuz they (you decide who)
started to trumpet melee
predicated when power of attorney
given to a girl named Amélie,
dime a dozen teller (of tall tales)
at Wells Fargo Bank.

Samm Marie Jul 2016

Used Scars Sell

I told you dear,
I sell scars, not cars
But I can see where the confusion
Comes from
After all
No one expects to love
A used scars saleswoman

— The End —