(with apologies to Lord Tennyson)
Half a loaf, half a loaf,
Half a loaf onward.
All in the belly at once,
Toasted and buttered.
“Downward the raisin bread,
Charge past the gums!” she said.
Into the belly, the crunch
Echoed and sputtered.
“Forward the Midnight Raid!
Slather the marmalade!”
(Not tho’ the sleeper knew
Someone had plundered.)
Pizza and pudding cup,
Hers not to pass ’em up.
Cookies? Another batch
Scavenged and down the hatch.
Mirror to right of her
Mirror to left of her
Mirror behind her,
Back to the cupboard.
“Diet begins at dawn,
After the gravy’s gone,”
Humbly she blubbered.
Mary Boren, 1998
So you’re ready to claim a conspicuous space
in the global economy’s happening place,
joining ranks with the flashy ga-zil-li-on-aires
who are lolling about, eating chocolate eclairs?
Hold your horses, stop the presses —
Online selling’s fraught with stresses …
demographics, trends, and traffic’s
sudden swerves. The pressure’s rising!
Buying’s decidedly wild and sporadic.
That dusty old stuff from your grandmother’s attic
won’t have what it takes to appeal to the nations
without some professional, slick presentations.
Camera ready? Check the lighting!
Featuring the most inviting
angles, shooting beads and bangles,
lock ‘n’ load and get to writing!
(How ya think yer gonna sell it
if ya dunno how to spell it?)
Eye-catching, eloquent product descriptions
send overworked brains into foaming conniptions!
The rigid demands of a steep learning curve
take perception and patience and vision and verve.
Auctions closing! Buyers dozing.
Gotta beat the competition!
Pack it snug and ship it free.
Handle with integrity.
Savvy shoppers know the rules.
eBay doesn’t suffer fools.
Whew! I’m jazzed, anticipating
steady sales and top dog rating!
Am I kidding? No, no, ma’am!
I’m a seller! Yes, I am!
Yes sir, yes sir, you can do it
too! Indeed, sir, you can do it!
(With apologies to Robert Frost.)
Whose shoes these are I’d like to know,
and whichaway’d that rascal go?
He left a soggy mess behind.
All dressed in black from head to toe,
he’d naught but mischief on his mind.
I saw him peekin’ through the blind
while I was gettin’ into bed.
When you investigate, you’ll find
he lost his sneakers when he fled
and tripped across the sprinkler head.
I watched the water spew and spew.
My garden’s trampled, roses dead —
there’s nothin’ left for you to do.
But if the fool comes sneakin’ through,
tonight, I’ll shoot his socks off too.
Tonight, I’ll shoot his socks off too.
Mary Boren, 2012
Image by hollykl Some rights reserved