Peculiar Poetry

Poetry with and without reason and rhyme.
Strange is what I strive for.
Expect lyrics and limericks, free verse and format.
Be prepared for bubbly and boiled, terrifying and horrifying.
Keep an eye out for those that provoke your thoughts, and some that bear no thought at all.
Many written for class, and others without much of it.
Feel free. There are no boundaries. Just think.
Consider, Ponder, Wonder, Imagine.
Argue, Oppose, Debate, Defend.
Perhaps you will be offended.
That's good.
Think about that.
Learn more of what you think.
How you think.
Take what you can from what you hate.
I don't seek to preach.
I only speak my mind.
A mind most peculiar.

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14. The Everything Seller

There's this man from elsewhere 

An old and portly guy, 

Calls himself the Everything Seller 

Selling anything you could hope to buy. 

He always comes sometime around September

Just in time for the county fair, 

And no matter the traffic or weather 

We can count on finding him there. 

He sits at his booth by the Ferris Wheel 

Smiling a golden-toothed grin.

Around him swarms this light-hearted feel 

That inexplicably draws you in. 

Kids scamper up with their porcelain pigs

Adults' wallets holstered like guns, 

Beady eyes locked on apples and peaches and figs 

Right next to doughnuts and cinnamon buns. 

Your mouth waters at the delicious sight 

While your attention begins to wander, 

Finding books to your left, chairs and tables to your right 

And much more elsewhere and yonder. 

Customers hand him wads of cash 

Asking for what they desire, 

Then he hobbles on back to his wondrous stash 

Sifts through some baskets and bundles of wire, 

Sets aside a few lamps and a TV or two

And finally comes upon what he seeks,

With a triumphant gait he turns back to you 

That smile still tight at his cheeks. 

You'd like a new radio? He's got every kind. 

The latest fashion? I assure you he's got it. 

Any piece of furniture's not too hard to find—

You want a dresser, a desk, or a closet? 

Gemstones suspended on golden chains, 

Portraits of queens and kings, 

Both engraved and bejewled walking canes, 

And so many more incredible things! 

Some people say he's merely a con, 

Others name him a fraud, 

Trying and explain what the heck's going on 

With this man, most ancient and odd. 

But try as they might, and as far out as they get, 

I swear that what he does is true. 

He'll sell you ice cream, guitars, movie posters, and pets—

There's no limit to what he can do. 

Though, I remember one guy thrusting forward his money, 

Asking meekly, "Could you...sell me joy?"

The crowd laughed, but the man did not find it funny, 

And he spoke to him, "Listen here, boy. 

What you've asked me for, I'm afraid to say, 

Is something that I do not sell. 

But see me? I'm joyous every single day, 

And I assure you, you can be as well. 

I can sell you any trinket, whatsit, or doohickey 

And you can break, forget, or lose it. 

But joy's not a purchase; you must choose to be happy. 

Therefore, make the effort to choose it." 

The guy and the crowd were in awe of the man, 

Jaws dropped, and eyes open wide. 

Then his smile got bigger than any smile can, 

One he wouldn't dare try to hide. 

So families bore in armfuls all that they could get, 

And I admit, I learned something that day. 

Yet the hours ticked by, and the sun finally set, 

And the man set off on his merry way. 

I wished to tell him goodbye, but I was out of luck

As I watched him roll down the path, 

Every box, case, and crate packed into his truck, 

Not even staying for the fair's aftermath. 

So the Everything Seller set off homeward bound, 

His everything stacked in a pile. 

Yet nowhere in his trove could any "joy" be found—

Only in his golden-toothed smile. 

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