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Purses

By Marilyn (LaraOct7@aol.com)


Okay, Okay. So I put up a silly picture. Pumpkins, fodder, straw, PURSES, a black cat? lol

Forgive me, please, but we're into the fall season. We make a lot of changes in the fall. We tend to replace summer pastels with the colors of fall: red, gold, yellow, rust.

Do you change purses with the seasons? I don't, but perhaps you do.

Use this topic to stir your imagination. You need not write about YOUR purse. You need not write about the purses you've owned in the past. If you want, you might write about an unsual purse you once saw. Or you could write about your mother's pocketbook. Your grandmother's pocketbook. How about the time you saw an old lady use her pocketbook to smack a would-be mugger? Well, maybe you didn't see it, but it would make a good story. :)

Do what you will with this. Fiction or fact, we look forward to your entry.








 


Purses and Pumpkins

By Amy (Fabulousfilly@aol.com)


tis that time of year
you want to be of good cheer
take that purse out of the closet
put the white one in the cedar chest


carve the pumpkin
make it glad
make it sad
put the candle in


see the grin ?


ghosts and goblins waderin bout
all they do is twist and shout
flitting here
flitting there


all without a care


stuff that purse with food and candy
it will be just dandy
trick or treat
on our beat


kids are out
and about
wanting treats of course
but i am a horse


so they get carrots or apples you see
maybe a sugar cube, how can that be ?
well can you vision a horse
with a pumpkin purse?









 


Purses

By Sharon (Sunyskys1943@aol.com)


Trudging into the pumpkin patch
Seeking out the perfect one
Displayed there were fun bags of thatch
And a black cat on the run


A park bench to rest if you need
And corn stalks all in a row
Children raced about without heed
But missing was that old crow


I think he might have been there too
But the cat spoiled all his fun
With children racing to and fro
He flew off into the sun


Still it was a glorious day
for all who came to the patch
Sam found a pumpkin in his way
And Ma bought a bag of thatch


Little Sue wanted the black cat
But he was not in the sale
Owner gave her a kitten that
Had a fuzzy spotted tail









 


Green Tree Heights

By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)


Tim was off work. It was Saturday, and Mattie had a list. On the list was a trip to store to buy fall decorations. Mattie was the Martha Stewart of Green Tree Heights and must keep up with the neighborhood. That kind of chore was in Tim’s manly frame of reference, but as good husbands do world wide, he tried to satisfy.

He went to the closest Safeway and bought pumpkins, round, long and bumpy gourds, and they even had some grassy brooms, scarecrows and corn. In his confusion, he just got carried away, and Mattie’s imagination didn’t go as far as some. When he got home about noon, she just emptied the sacks and threw the contents around the corner of the fence. She liked the colors and was in love with Tim, so not much was said between them.

Mattie had made tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and they ate together in the quiet way Saturday couples do. "Wanna go out and sit in the yard?" Tim asked. "The weather’s nice, and maybe if we sit there we’ll think of something to do with those decorations."

So the two of them in their jeans and sneakers walked out to the old bench, cup of coffee in hand, and sat and looked at the scattered parts of the whole. Tim propped up a scarecrow and idly said "You know, Mattie, we’re so fortunate to be able to buy these basically useless, but nice colorful pleasures. I saw a bag lady in front of the store today. I wished I could help her."

About that time their six year old Prissy who had had a hot dog with her new friend and his new puppy, rode up on her trike. "What’s a bag lady, Daddy?"


"Well, guess Mom and I could get up some popcorn balls and lemonade. Go ahead." Tim felt so pious and pleased that Mattie went along. Then they went into the house and popped some corn, made lemonade, and finished up their Saturday chores.

Prissy had been in and out of the gate all afternoon. Mattie listened for her, but didn’t go to see what she was really doing when she came in the house, sweaty and ready to get ready for her party. The children had begun arriving when Mattie and Tim went out to meet them.

What they found were purses, piles of pretty purses. Pretty Prissy had told all the children they could come to her party only if they brought a bag for the bag lady. So many colors, so many shapes. Mattie and Tim went into convulsions of laughter! Then they sat the children down for their refreshments and began to tell them a story of an old lady who had become very poor and carried her belongings in bags in a cart.

They told the children if they could get up all those pretty bags, that they should take them home and tell their parents they wanted to trade them for food for bag ladies. So that is how Prissy learned that there were hungry people outside of Green Tree Heights.








 


Purses

By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)


One Halloween my cousin and his wife ...(The First one)...threw a Halloween party. I decided to go as a cleaning lady. I got an old house dress that had seen better days and I put several patches on it.

I added safety pins and made the hem all raggedy. I wore those thick cotton stockings but didn't pull them up all the way and they sagged and bagged. Tied them in knots instead of garters. I had a pair of old fuzzy house slippers and to that I added a very old hat of my Mom's. It was made of some light blue cottony material and had rhinestones all over the wide brim. I don't ever remember seeing my Mom wear it.

I carried a bucket and a string mop on one arm and on the other I had a small gold and rhinestone purse. Put some Black Jack chewing gun over my front teeth and caked up make up all over my face...

I was A Cleaning Lady!

Shortly after I got there a pirate and a little Bo-Peep and a perfect "Little Old Lady" came in. I absolutely LOVED the "Little Old Lady" outfit! It was a lavender dress with a white lace collar and a big old silver and gold pin on the lapel with a strand of little pearls around the wrinkled neck. The hair was blue white and had the "Mamie Eisenhower" hairdo...small pearl earrings and a pair of the "Orthopedic" comfort lace up shoes made it superb. And then there was the purse....! Black leathery, large rectangle with brass handles and looked as though you could carry a small car in it.

I laughed and I cooed and I screamed..."OH! What an amazing costume you have on! It's just perfect and everything is so...so...OLD LADY!"

Then my cousins wife introduced me to her grandmother...who...by the way....was NOT wearing a costume!

Although they divorced within a year of that party...I have not assumed it was my fault. (maybe)








 


Butterfly Bag

By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@msn.com)


In the window of Wolf’s shoe store,
There is displayed a butterfly bag for ladies to adore.


The canvas tote sports monarchs in all their glory.
The bag is for sale, but it carries an interesting story.


The bag was made by a blind lady with loving care.
Her work is so beautiful, there is nothing to compare.


Never having seen the objects of her artistic flair,
Makes one wonder how she makes them with such intricate care.


Running her hand over her Mother’s embroidered pillow cases,
She pictured the insects in her mind as she fingered the edges of delicate laces.


Soon she began to make her bags with the same tender care.
People came to the shoe store window to stop and stare.


Under the bag there stood a sign for all to see.
“You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”

-Eleanor Roosevelt









 


My Old Purse

By susi Taylor (Texaswishr@aol.com)


Drat! Where is it? I started to curse
there's too many pockets in this old purse!
no matter what I reach in for, large or small
I cannot find it, no, not at all
but I know it's in there, I just gotta dig
under the checkbook, a brush and comb, and a wig,
a bunch of safety pins, a pack of gum, and mints
a billfold, a credit card case and a box of flints
some things have been in here for years
a little picture album, kleenex for my tears,
powder, rouge, mascara and three lipsticks
a tape measure, a mirror and two chapsticks,
I've carried this old purse for, oh, so long
cracked leather with a shoulder strap, still strong,
One of these days I will empty it out and see
what all is in it. Nah, think I will just let it be.
Because you see, it is just part of me









 


Another Song

By Emiliano (Poeta48@aol.com)


Purses and pumpkins adorn
the grounds of a haunted house.
It looks like a range of presents
full of surprises for all,
yet a sentinel black cat
makes sure that nothing goes wrong
and the poet is delighted to complete
another song.....









 


That Purse

By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)


My head did ache as I came to,
Here I was lying on the floor.
As the birds did sing and cobwebs faded,
I remembered what had happened.


We argued over how much she spent,
We did not have money for the rent,
But she said the purse was heavy sent,
Thing was a big as a valise.


“Too much for that ugly thing,”
I had stated what I thought.
Then she swung it at me,
So now I am trying to sit up.


When she went to bed,
I snuck into our room and got that purse.
Took it to the kitchen table,
Dumped it out and strew everything.


Five rolls of pennies I did see,
No wonder she did kayo me.
I took the scissors and with vengeance,
Did cut that thing into little strips.


I felt real good after that, then
I did leave her a note.
“Gone to the loading docks to see,
If I can earn some rent money.”


I grabbed something to eat,
And then went to work.
Lucky I was, yes indeed for three trucks
I did help load or unload.


So with rent money in my pocket,
I came home to get ready for work.
She glared at me, said not a word,
As she did pack my lunch.


When I got home from work,
After I had paid the rent,
There on the kitchen table,
Sat a duplicate of that dang bag.


I said not a word, as supper I ate
And then I left.
Went down and worked most of the night,
And earned enough to pay for that dang purse.


Every time hence, when we do have an argument,
I look at that dang bag,
And wonder if those pennies
She still does have.









 


Conscience

By RickMack (rmrickmack@aol.com)


With my conscience, wrestling,
A fat purse lay in my hand.
Six hundred bucks nestling
Inside a wide rubber band.


I found it on the sidewalk,
Outside the National Bank.
I heard my conscience remark,
“Owner’s seeking you to thank.”


That’s a hefty wad of dough
To a guy who’s out of work.
There was no ID and so
I muttered, “Tough luck, poor jerk.”


Still my conscience persisted,
“Turn it in to a teller.”
My venal side resisted -
I’m not a trusting fella.


“Sure,” I silently replied,
“And I’ll be plumb out of luck -
The money will stay inside.
You think I’m such a dumb cluck?”


“But you’d feel benevolence,
Simply knowing you’d done right.”
Nonsense you get from conscience -
It really isn’t too bright.


“Look here,” to my better half,
“This calls for some common sense.
Sometimes you sure make me laugh,
You ridiculous conscience.”


“All this money is not yours,”
Said the nuisance in my head.
“I do urge that you please pause -
Think your actions through instead.”


“I’ve thought all that I intend,
My actions are very clear.
This conversation will end -
Purse and I will disappear.”


Then I saw her near the bank,
Her head swiveling around.
A small girl walked at her flank,
Eyes, too, focused on the ground.


“See,” the soft voice in my ear,
“A poor woman and her child
Are who lost that money here.”
The tot looked at me and smiled.


“Damn!” I nearly said out loud,
“Why haven’t I up and went,
And vanished into the crowd -
Ignored this dumb argument?”


Conscience rose to the moment,
My darn tongue serving it well.
Despite my inner torment,
From my lips these dumb words fell.


“Have you lost something, my dear?”
I looked the girl in the eye.
“Yes, my contact lens, I fear,”
Her mother said with a sigh.


Joining the search with the tot,
I said, “A small thing to find.”
Working toward the parking lot,
I left my conscience behind.









 


Purse

By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)


We were stationed at MCAS El Toro in California in draft section awaiting our shipping date to Korea. Having been raised in the sticks of Virginia and having never been west of New Orleans, California was the glitter and glamour capitol of the world, especially to a young guy raised in Montvale. Four of us who had just graduated from Aviation Electronics School in Memphis had volunteered for the Far East.

One Saturday morning, three of us hitchhiked down to TJ, Tijuana and we crossed the border with big eyes and the remembrances of all the wild stories.

I did not have much money, for a PFC in the Marine Corps did not get paid much, especially if he was married and they took most of his money to send to his wife. Anyway, we wandered along and into shops. I saw a brown rectangular hand-tooled purse and a pair of matching wedge-heeled shoes I wanted for my wife.

“Thirty five dollars for the bag and twenty five for shoes,” the man said. I laughed and shook my head. “I will make you a one time good deal, twenty-five dollars for the bag and twenty-two fifty for the shoes,” he proffered.

Now Gene Raxter was from California and had visited TJ many times and he said they like to haggle. Well I had like maybe twenty bucks, not enough to do much drinking, not enough to do a lot of eating and for dang sure not enough to buy the present I wanted for my wife. “Too high for me, thanks for the offer,” I said in my southern drawl and started to walk away.

“How much you give me, I make you a good offer, oh I have a wife and four children that I must feed and care for, you want my wife and my bambinos to starve,” he said as he gave me that sales pitch.

I pulled out my empty pocket and showed him, “Heck I am just a slick sleeve buck ass Marine private who had to hitch hike from Virginia out here and I am awaiting my shipment overseas,” I said as my buddies went into a cantina for a cold beer. “Do you know how much Uncle Sam pays me every two weeks?” I asked.

“Oh you Marines, you make lots of money,” he replied.

“Well I get fourteen dollars every payday, that is it, fourteen dollars,” I replied, “I will give you ten dollars for both, ten US dollars.”

“Oh no, I could not do that for I would lose money,” he said as it began to sprinkle rain which would drastically reduce his business. “For you, one time good deal, both for twenty-five dollars and oh will your wife love you when she sees this fine Mexican tooled leather. All of the other women will be so envious of her,” he said.

I laughed for I was beginning to have fun and when someone else came in, I would step aside and look at something else, when they left I would look at the bag and shoes, “Ten dollars, ten Yankee dollars,” I said.

“My bottom dollar, twenty-two fifty,” he said as his hand gestures would make most Italians look staid. I shook my head and walked off down the street with my buddies. We hit a few bars and sipped some suds and then I went back.

He came down to twenty dollars for both the purse and the shoes. Now it was a game to me because I knew I could not afford the seventeen fifty he would take. We haggled and I was off again. As dusk grew nigh, I went back one last time after having two or four beers and began to haggle again, he at twenty dollars and me at ten.

Finally he came down to fifteen and then to twelve fifty; while I remained at ten dollars. Finally Jim Glen said something to Gene and Jim looked at the man, “He pays ten dollars and we will give you two fifty more, so twelve fifty and we are going regardless.”

Well, we crossed the border and when I told the border patrolman that I had paid twelve fifty for the bag and shoes; he shook his head no, “Maybe twenty two fifty but never twelve fifty,” he said with a smile.

Gene laughed, “This damn Virginia Jew paid twelve fifty and he spent five hours haggling.” The man waved us through and we started toward the road back to El Toro, and hoped we could catch a ride; it was three in the morning.

My wife loved the shoes and bag I mailed to her, just before we went aboard ship, APA 17, the USS George Clymer,” sailing for Kobe.








 


Purses

By Jeanie (Mingo184@aol.com)


THE BLACK CAT SLINKED LIGHTLY WITH ITS PAW
WONDERING WHY THERE WAS SO MUCH STRAW
IT GAZED UPON THE MANY PUMPKINS THERE
AND SAW THE PURSES SET UP WITH CARE


PURSES...ALL COLORS AND SIZES
INSIDE MANY THINGS AND PRICES
THE COST TO BUY ALL THESE
AND LAY THEM ABOUT WITH GREAT EASE


THIS TIME OF YEAR IS COLORFUL
THE COMING HOLIDAYS WILL BE STRESSFUL
BUT A GARDEN OF PURSES AND STRAW
AND THE BLACK CAT WITH THE SOFT FURRY PAW


THEY MAKE ME SMILE
FOR JUST A LITTLE WHILE
BEFORE THE SNOW FALLS









 


Full Purses

By Mary (MusingByMary@aol.com)


If it weren't so funny
and such a runnin' joke;
at my many purses
some fun I would poke.


There're heavy as lead
crammed full of stuff;
especially Kleenex
and similar fluff.


My friends cannot hide
smiles 'n some even smirk;
when they see my purses
say, "You're a piece of work!"


'No wonder your shoulders
always seem ta sag;
why, mine would break off
after carrying THAT bag!'


So I smile sheepishly 'n
say, ole habits hard to break;
awww, get offa my back
bout my purse, pity's sake.


Guess someday I'll learn
tha skill of downsizin';
'til then it's FULL PURSES
is THAT so surprisin'?



Mary Carter Mizrany©
October 2, 2007











              

              

 

 

 

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