OnceWritten.com

[JAVAQUEEN2000]

Boys love cars but what about me?- POEM

Do they really care?
I roll my eyes as they speak about my baby.
My sweat,
My tears.
My accomplishments.

Look at them strutting like peacocks.
Pruning their feathers.
Crowing for the beauty with the best assets.
Fighting for affection.
I roll my eyes.

It’s my truck.
My 54 Ford F-100
My 350 short block with twin overhead cams.
My louvered hood, painted in candy apple red with gold metallic fleck.
I roll my eyes.

Black leather interior is molded to my body
The mahogany dash, begs for me to touch it.
True fire flames boast of speed.
Catch me if you can.
I roll my eyes.

I am just like them. I love cars.
I love the smell of burning rubber.
I love the jump off the starting line.
I love the triumphant sound of the muffler,.
I leave them behind.

Impressed with my accomplishments.
Try to impress me with your knowledge.
I’ll play.
I’ll question your carburetors, your manifolds , your blocks.
First hint of deceit and I’m gone.
I don’t have time to teach and train.

I have a 66 Impala waiting to be reborn and I am late for my manicure.
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Write On!

[RonPrice]

This One Would Be Popular....with the boys I used to teach at high school---and that is saying something, believe me!! Let me add a word from William Empson, a fine thinker about words and ideas. He wrote that: "if the poetry is sincere, you are writing it to find your own balance, even to cure yourself." I'd say Empson's words fit your motivation--or so it seems to me as a distant reader here in Australia(The Truest Poetry: An Essay on the Question 'What Is Literature?', Lawrence Lerner, Hamish Hamilton, London, 1960, p.111)--Ron Price, Tasmania
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married for 42 years, a teacher for 35 years and a Baha'i for 50 years