Stopping Shoe Shopping

I’d rather chuckle than simply buckle.

My shoe collection needs a buff.

Girls never seem to have enough.

I’d love to go the extra mile,

Kick off the season, step in style.

The choice today is mighty fine.

It’s hard sometimes to toe the line.

Behold the sandals, clogs, and flats –

I’ll skip the matching handbags, hats.

Those pretty slippers, mocs, and mules,

Oh, how to stay within the rules!

Alas, I know that I must stop,

The other shoe is sure to drop.

My footwear flies me far and wide,

Attending meetings multiplied.

They race through corridor and street,

Or anywhere I must beat feet.

No loafer, I have miles to stroll.

Would be a shame to scuff my sole.

My sneakers have put up a fight,

But shoestring budget ties us tight.

Still, shopping’s not yet stopped, kaput –

The shoe is on the other foot.

His brand-new boxes still arrive,

Bright pairs that seldom see test drive.

I hope they charge not by the inch,

Although I aim not to be Grinch.

And I don’t mean to drive a wedge,

So pass the polish on the ledge.

I’ll brush and scrub and smooth and shine

To make old favorites mighty fine.

My Yankee hands can pinch a buck.

Just keep me from the shop. Good luck.

c2017 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image:

Adapted by this user from vintage artwork.

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

April A to Z Blog Challenge

National Poetry Writing Month / NaPoWriMo

Meme Express: “kick off”

Six-Word Saturday: See subtitle.

#atozchallenge

#napowrimo

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Reset in Motion

Friends sharing food can leave us renewed.

Reset in Motion

My girls and I just broke some bread.

I’ll share no secrets that were said,

Except to say

Without delay,

We’re mostly glad the past is dead.

We choose the chance to chill and chug,

To raise a glass and lift a mug.

No time for fools,

Such friends are jewels.

We cry and crow and simply shrug.

To look at loves and labors lost,

To try each truth and count the cost,

We for a song

Do come along

To clear our chests at any cost.

Still, must we count the years a bust,

If by the trip we’ve learned to trust?

Each painful stroll

And shifty soul

Once thus examined, blows as dust.

In voices raspy, whispered woes

As errant chords do decompose.

Sweet music drifts.

Each spirit lifts.

And troubles fly where Heaven-knows.

c2017 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Vintage/public domain photo

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

ABC Wednesday: “music”

Mad Kane Humor: “bust,” “bussed,” or “robust” (LIMERICK)

Meme Express: “for a song”

One Liner Wednesday: See subtitle.

Simply Snickers: “chance,” “chill,” and “chug”

Three Word Wednesday: “painful,” “raspy,” and “shifty”

Thursday Challenge: “motion”

Image/s:

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Tax against the wall

All present and accounted for? Maybe.

Tax Against the Wall

How can fiscals fly so fast?

Documenting, I’m aghast.

Confident? Put down that pen.

Push to shove? It’s “when” again.

Help! By papers I’m harassed.

Tax prep time! I have to focus;

Need a little hocus-pocus.

Easy money? That’s a joke.

Busted! Now I think I’m broke.

My accountant’s gonna choke.

Pounding buttons, hand to plow.

Look at me, subtracting now.

Number-crunching confidante?

Maybe I am part-savant.

Finished, but I don’t know how.

c2017 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Adapted by this user from public domain artwork.

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

Meme Express: “easy money”

Simply Snickers: “confidante” and “confident”

Six Word Saturday: See subtitle.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday: “how”

#SoCS

Feel free to follow on Twitter. Please visit my Amazon author page as well.