A poem by George Gollinger, Fairfield, California, a finalist in the annual “Supermarket Shopper Poetry Competition.”
Paula
Will you go to the market tonight, my dear heart?
I’ll go along with you to push your cart.
We will buy some cereal, some milk and some bread.
And maybe some apples that are nice big and red.
When we finish buying all this and all that.
We will get along home for a nice little chat.
We will talk a bit of our daily routine.
Over a nice little dish of chocolate ice cream.
Love, George
Here is a poem by Kimberly Baer of Johnstown, Pennsylvania, a finalist in the annual Supermarket Shopper Poetry Competition:
Sidetracked
I carefully write out my grocery list:
I’m sure there’s no product on sale that I’ve missed.
I include many coupons to keep the cost low,
Then send off my spouse who is eager to go.
But, sadly, Dear Hubby turns into a devil
Who is tempted by items at Husband eye level.
Our grocer knows men can quickly enticed
Into buying “cute” items at a not-so-cute price.
My struggle to save a few dollars is futile
When he marches home with imported egg noodles.
He charmingly grins and says, “I couldn’t resist!”
Why can’t he wear blinders and stick to my list?!
Judy Kennard of Houston, Texas, thought shopping would get easier when her two boys were grown. Now, she says it didn’t work out that way. . “I think a lot of people have had a similar experience and they can relate to my poem.” Here is Judy’s poem, “Aisles of Gray,” a second prize winner in the annual Supermarket Poetry Competition:
Aisle of Gray
How shopping has changed since I’ve gotten old.
There are thousands of new choices and the aisles are too cold.
I put on a sweater despite the summer heat.
While shivering and shaking, I try to select meat.
Low fat? No fat? Lite or lean?
What do these labels and warnings all mean?
My coupons expired? I can’t read the date.
The print is too small. Is it really too late? I’m baffled and puzzled, confused and depressed.
I thought things would get better, not be a test.
I thought without small kids screaming and yelling,
I could leisurely stroll, and see what they’re selling.
I’d have money to burn since my needs would be few.
The money I’d save by cooking for two!
My bill has not dropped – not one red cent.
Even with coupons, my money’s all spent.
And instead of the kids wailing to go,
There’s always my husband, tapping his toe.
“You don’t need that. We already have four.
There’s no room in the pantry. Don’t buy any more.
Let’s go home. I don’t like it in here.
Better yet, let’s go for a beer.”
Priorities have to be set, when all’s said and done,
