When General Meade met General Lee
At Gettysburg in 1863
Sons of the South battled Northern brothers
And neither side has ever recovered
Fifty-one thousand lives lost in three days
Of a summertime swelter, July haze
Souls rose not to heaven from bodies piled
On blood-soaked battlefields spanning 40 miles
An on-scene photographer moved fallen men
To snap better images with his lens
Hats off to Alex Gardner if you please
Today picture-takers’ cameras freeze
At a large bouldered site called Devil’s Den
Sharpshooter hid, killed unsuspecting men
Travelers at night on Pennsylvania roads
Claim they see soldiers, hear cannons explode
A century after the Revolution
United our states to wage war as one
Virginians were forced to choose blue or gray
Mason Dixon Line divided that way
If only Tom Jefferson’s wise notion
Had not been struck from the Declaration
Slavery, the impetus for war and hate
Would have been quashed before State versus State
Gettysburg might have been a peaceful farm
Where soldiers had never succumbed to harm
But restless spirits, faces pale and gaunt
Never retreat from their Gettysburg haunt
Our nation’s darkest hour plays out each night
And passersby still marvel at the sight
Where sons of the South battled Northern brothers
For neither side will ever recover
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009
As the waves forever kiss the shore
One shot leaves you wanting more
My heart and soul, strong and true
With all the love they hold for you
Sometimes my life leaves me bored
Like a swordsman with no sword
These are the times that I write
Memories can be hard to fight
I write out my heart and soul
Controlling my mind is my goal
Each new word released by my pen
Is another spiritual battle I win
The war rages on day by day
Through the poem prayers I pray
It's a war that I will forever win
Long as there is ink up in my pen
In prison I had quite a collection
Each one held it's own reflection
I saved them after they ran dry
Baptized with the tears I cry
I just couldn't seem to let them go
Little memories of my heart and soul
Sometimes I like to take them out
Little memories of what I'm about
What I'm about angel on my shoulder
Making this world a little less colder
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2007
I stood on a hill and screamed for peace...
Lost in the noise were friends that teased...
A mask that hides what's wrong and right...
Too many stones thrown that blinded my sight...
Wolves that prowled with a sheeps face and a devils soul...
Crept slowly in the dark where the truth was never told...
My cape is wrinkled and torn and bloodied from the day...
A battle well fought where being right lost its way...
Then left with a heart with blood still there to drain...
No need to ask the question, I'd do it all over again...
I don't write stories, I don't write make believe... I write what's in Me.... Michael
Copyright © Michael J. Falotico | Year Posted 2012
POW confined in a cage
Through Viet Cong jungles bullets raged
No sweat from his pores in unrelenting sun
Dehydration, famine, yet his needs were none
A tepid river so foul with blood’s scent
But the outcome of torture was not as meant
He tasted cool ice as his spirit soared
Freedom came fast once the war was ignored
Hovering o’er killing fields his soul’s eyes
Saw not the wounded, heard not their cries
Though his weak body lay crumpled below
Pain free he reveled on clouds, heaven’s snow
Through astral projection he’d been set free
Each day he survived, taking this journey
When rescued at last many months gone by
The US militia did not know why
GI Joe felt no hate, seemed so serene
And not one of his rescuers could glean
Why this soldier survived, what kept him sane
For they’d not escaped inside this man’s brain
The awareness he’d achieved spared his life
So he could return to his son and wife
Who’d prayed everyday that he would come home
Only to say they’d never been alone
Their spirits communed on another plane
And life as they’d known it would never be the same
*Entry for Caties Out-of-Body Experience Contest.
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009
In dead-man's land
red poppies grow,
Fertilised by blood,
sun and winter snow;
And on widows' weeds
streams of sadness flow,
Lost freedoms seeds
beneath ignorance goes
To no-man's land
where,there were but crows;
With Spring's new life
real peace they can know,
In the Morning Star's
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009
Blessed with ingenuity, he fought advancing tyranny
That stormed the sea in twenty-three great warships sailing furiously.
That day, October twenty-first, saw Admiral Nelson at his worst,
As cannons roared, while gunners cursed. The times were changed, the tides reversed.
Lord Nelson, as an admiral brave with all his fleet defied the grave,
His native land and king to save:-- his life for freedom's cause he gave.
In but a half a dozen hours he humbled Europe's finest pow'rs,
And toppled Tyranny's highest tow'rs; yet Vict'ry found him crowned with flow'rs,
And not a place the crown to lay, on him, nor all who died that day
In sending Britain's foes away, across the stormy seas of grey.
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2014
Nightmares, jungles, blood on hands
Unjust war in distant lands
Scars that no one else can see
Memories doing battle with his sanity
Off to war, a rich man’s fool
Rich man’s son was off to school
Some came home in boxes, statistics mount
Media smiles announcing body count
Working man’s sons without a voice
Off to war without a choice
Coming home to hate, the fire fanned
Misdirected Anger in his native land
Dismayed with the war, activists groups
Pointing blame at the drafted troops
So many dead through the bloody nights
Protecting rubber trees and oil rights
After the storm, there was no calm
Soldiers coming home from Vietnam.
Dedicate to Vietnam vets who served valiantly,
unappreciated at home
Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2011
One Toy Soldier
Little toy soldiers are all put away
Training is over for this time of day.
Where do these little boys go now to play?
Away from their home to die in the fray.
Little toy weapons are no longer there
But boxed in attics by mothers with care--
Where keepsakes still hold a lock of his hair--
While rockets and missles challenge his fare.
Little toy bad guys and little toy good
Haze in the distance when misunderstood.
Where fall the lilies on long crates of wood
And each gave their all--as good soldiers should...
Little toy soldiers are coming back home...
Mothers are weeping, laments all alone
Where flags lie folded--the gift of Shalom...
As the long box is lowered...'neath the loam
One little toy soldier is placed on the top
Remembering All--so that None be Forgot.
Copyright © Deborah Burch | Year Posted 2012
Blood surges through the deep gash in his armor
while the brave knight writhes in pain and cries in anguish.
The battle is over now and the knight drops hard to the ground
knowing that his life force is ebbing and his strength is waning.
With the battle finished the knight begins his final fight
with Death in his inevitable glory and result.
The knight’s blood now slows to a quiet trickle like blood tears
while key moments in his life flash before him lightening quick.
The knight finds his comfort in love of family and country;
this is a moment of solace as his body tightens in Death’s grip.
His blood now seeps into the ground itself and his breathing grows shallow,
and twilight moves to darkness in the knight’s final conscious thought.
The knight murmurs: fighting, war, and duty to my king have been my life,
but now I must take leave of this mortal coil.
With that Death takes the Knight’s mortal body and the hand of God carries
his heavenly soul to everlasting eternity.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (September 9, 2014) (Distich or Unrhymed Couplet)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014
They said that it would never come,
This war of hate, and not for some.
A sleepy hamlet, far from all,
But now it’s happened, god helps us all.
It’s not a year since they were wed,
But now he’s gone, she hopes not dead.
They are in love, for his touch she yearns,
A tight embrace, the longing burns.
The closeness only they can share,
You can see the magic in the air.
A knock then comes upon the door,
As her mind’s brought back to this wretched war.
Her heart now breaking, and is hoping no –
She had pleaded with him not to go.
Is that all to this that makes up life?
When all she wanted was to be his wife.
Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2008
Don’t go I heard her cry,
From a door that was kept ajar.
The message very poignant,
Knowing how many had gone before.
Then given that we make a choice,
So who are we to say?
Across our small blue planet,
Would this happen anyway.
Souls and there are many,
Sacrificed in freedoms name.
Lay on the battlefields altar,
To justify, another’s gain.
We all must share the burden,
For who is there to blame.
Given the point, from their perspective,
From our view, would be the same.
Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2008
Looking Back Long Ago
We were looking back long ago
While time went by seeming so slow
Distance between time kept spreading
Would do something they were dreading.
On a broad beach boots hit the sand
After seeing sight of a lonely land
On shore was sort of a light breeze
Enemy was on hills and up in trees.
Screeching and exploding sounded loud
Later that day heads were all bowed
Thanking God that they did survive
Being in one piece and remaining alive.
At Normandy we each dutifully performed
After the troops on shore had stormed
And only thing we saw that now remained
Was either blown to bits or blood-stained.
PVT Lester E. Deschler Died July 12th, 1944
in a tank explosion. He is now buried at
Normandy America Cemetery and Memorial.
Am unsure if he was an uncle or great-uncle
of Ms. Kelley Deschler a Poetry Soup lover.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
Make sure that you have signed peace petition at above website.
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2015
This evening I listen to a Rock 'n' Roll band
Their track is Civil War, as our world now expands
To us it's the same size but to others they despise
For the want of greed exists in their killer hungry eyes
Where do I start, to say of their evil spread
A different starvation leaving the world in evil dread
It's not our today's but our yesterdays years
That our history tells us, of our everlasting torn tears
Cambodia, the Lebannon, and Sri Lanka's Indian sun
Rebels who demand better at the end of a gun
Guaetamala and Peru with their Shining Path
Villagers in terror decrying it's ever last
Democracy is our power in it's controllable exist
Like the Shining above, how long will our future paths persist
Recent news in the Arabic World, has taken tyrants by surprise
For decades they have stolen with their torturing infidel lies
I could go deeper and deeper to describe these evils acts
In wanton blood spillage, to increase civil war torn facts
For this is the world we live in, it appears we determine to live
Maybe in our lifetime it will be on our doorstep, we open, our lives will sieve
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011
Peer pressure of the worst no matter who they are
They can be a boy or girl that they believe to become martyr's
Strapped to these young souls, is something they just don't understand
Yet the cowards who persuade them to miss, becoming a woman or a man
What, where, why or when, does this quest justify it's means
For it arises in the warped depraved, in twisted confused dreams
For in this book that they all crave about, this they cannot do
It's against their religion to request the suicide of you
For all their Cleric's whom they are, they sit and witness so
Not one has ever spoken out, to stop this exploding blow
Why is this I ask myself, for they fear the bullet of a gun
Because it's easier to suppress their young, terrorism has again begun
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011
In a whirlwind two friends started to quarrel over nothing
By the end of a long day it became something.
Fists, kicks, bricks and insults were in the heat,
The two friends were reluctant to accept defeat.
In the storm the fight came from nowhere,
But it was surely heading somewhere.
The two couldn’t see eye to eye for a resolution
And failed to reach for a solution.
Like lightning the dispute came in a flash
Their ship called friend went into a crash
They encountered a hardship in a fume
Saw no need to keep their friendship that was in a flame.
Within the flood the argument flowed to separate
Their much needed means to tolerate.
Their feelings were broken into shattered piece
That they could not assemble into one peace.
Copyright © Mpho Kgaswane | Year Posted 2016
In ancient times when knights were bold,
They dressed in armor, so we're told.
When they went out to face their foe,
Their armor protected them head to toe.
Christians we must do the same,
Or be struck down by Satan's aim.
His flaming arrows fly all around,
Intending to knock us to the ground.
So put on God's armor without delay,
We need His protection everyday.
For our struggle is not against what we can see,
But the powers of darkness are our enemy.
Stand firm then and dress with all haste,
Start with truth buckled 'round your waist.
Satan fights dirty by spreading lies,
But the belt of God's truth will make us wise.
Next is the Breastplate of Righteousness,
That God provides for all who are His.
It's the righteousness of Christ covering you,
That the evil one cannot stand up to.
Now cover your feet with the readiness of,
Sharing God's gospel of peace and love..
Take the Shield of Faith and keep it near,
To deflect Satan's arrows of confusion and fear.
Place the Helmet of Salvation firmly on your head,
It will keep Satan's lies from filling you with dread.
He wants to make you doubt your salvation is sure,
But the helmet will guard your mind and keep you secure.
Your armor is complete, but now you need a sword,
So take the Sword of the Spirit, the Word of the Lord.
God's Word is sufficient to defend or attack.
With God's Word in your heart you can hold Satan back.
With your armor in place and your Sword in your hand,
Be strong in the Lord and in His power stand.
And pray in the Spirit at all times and all ways,
Cause the enemy trembles when Saints start to pray!
Based on Ephesians 6:10-18
Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2011
Why mother, why must I sleep?
I promise to be nice, I promise not to weep.
All I want is to see the world with my eyes,
To hear people say their "hellos" and "goodbyes",
To drink water and to eat bread,
To rest only when I go to bed,
To help you with work and speak as I can,
To talk to women and smile at men,
To smell restaurant plates when lunch fills the air
but knowing that you still give me my share.
No my sweet daughter, slumber you must.
So I get my bread, and you your crust.
Dream of tomorrow with nonexistent sorrow,
Where the country you live you don't borrow.
Not to war, not to terror.
Where justice is not an error.
There's nothing in this world to see,
Dream of somebody else for you to be.
Now hush, don't nag, I need to beg.
Keep still or my chest will sag.
Your sleepy face will make them condole
so the portion promised me will be whole.
Drink this sweet milk, it has good flavor.
It will put you in your best behavior.
Don't judge me wrong, my present is gone.
But I hope this will change in days to come.
[War refugees in Lebanon often resort to begging for a living. Many begging mothers drug their babies in order to evoke pity from passers-by. It is far from me to judge their actions. I wrote this rather as eye-opener. The war in Syria is not over yet. The current generation is lost. But there's hope for the future.]
Copyright © Timoteo Neves | Year Posted 2016
Its the morning after the night before
As i leave my new wife, whom i lovingly adore
My orders came through, overseas i head
With my band of brothers, not knowing what's ahead
Married for days, whilst conflict takes him away
Holding sheets where we slept, my memory bouquet
At the bottom of our bed, there lies a virgin white rose
With a note beneath i am in momentary froze
I sit and stare as to what it might say
Knowing this is the day my love flies away
My darling Tinks i leave this white rose for you
Its pristine appearance describes my darling so true
It symbolises you, so innocent so pure
With your love in my heart, i will return i assure
Think of the day, from these distant lands from beyond
For the morning after the night before, we will respond
This virgin white rose, so bridal so pure
You and its safety i will secure, for you to return for our future
The day you come home, it shall lay on our bed
And we will continue our lives, as you have always said
I will go about my tomorrow's, thinking of you every day
And prey that this virgin white rose, never turns deathly grey
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010
What time is this
Where once we wait
Whilst questions stir up great debate
Upon this place a storm doth brew
Encroaching in on me and you
To make a stand or make a choice
Have a heart and have a voice
Be not thee fooled by lovely lies
Made to keep well in disguise
A truth thus far which few have seen
Veiled behind some wicked scene
Know what we are and why we’re here
Be not thee bound by useless fear
For power lies in focus held
In knowledge found and wisdom felt
Creative thought shall be the key
Unraveling untold mysteries
With hence unknown abilities
Bestowed with light we’ve yet to see
Transform a world of pain and hate
Into grandest dreams create
This time, this place
No more we wait
Through storms of violence, fear and hate
The very catalyst we need
To know the truth which sets us free
Copyright © Sara Ray | Year Posted 2009
Born American, sixth generation of great-grands all German,
not much liking sausage or sauerkraut, English speaking all the way,
except the Germany of my ancestry was fought over and broken
so I’m a bit of France, Germany, Poland, Hungary all the Holy
Roman empire, dissolved down, fought over, egotized, horrified
and remade Into some new state where English is as common as German.
We share a love of flowers in the face of cold and rain, I drink less beer
and wine, meet up somewhere, anywhere around the world on a beach.
From my parents and grandparents, I know to serve up too much food
seven sweets, seven sours and drink and whirl the night away to a band.
Hardworking sorts, unafraid of a little dirt, loving dirt, the turnover
and young sprout brought to fruit, wearing overalls and then washing up.
To sit before a pressed linen table cloth, served up on the finest china,
the cha in my father’s name, the uff da, and other exclamations.
The morning rosaries, the blessed churches where we give thanks for all good
and the setting aside of pride while we work together to make our food.
Sure there are aprons for cooking. Shorts for summertime. A dive into any pool.
What do I know of being German, not much, it's just somewhere in my roots.
Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013
He could fight and win battles, could this General Ulysses Grant!
Other of Lincoln's generals were continually sayin', "I can't!"
Though 'twas well-known that General Grant relished his schnapps,
Even soused he could concoct solid battle plans by studyin' his maps.
Becomin' frustrated with his other generals and their lack of action,
Abe suggested to an aide that if it would help them get some traction,
He'd like to know what Ulysses drank and where he got the stuff,
So he could send a barrel to every general to get him off his duff!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2014
Here's a bit of trivia from World War Two I'll bet you didn't know,
Concerning the war-time Prime Minister of Japan, Hideki Tojo of Tokyo.
After the war hapless Hideki was jailed in Tokyo's Sugamo Prison,
Where he was given a new set of dentures 'cause he was losing his'n.
A waggish American dentist, determined to make a lasting 'impression',
Etched on Tojo's choppers in Morse Code this immortal expression:
'REMEMBER PEARL HARBOR" - 'Twas America's stirring battle cry!
He eternally gnashes his teeth in perdition after he was hanged to die!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2014
With warmest regards and the saddest lament
I write this small note with the best of intent
The newspaper’s account of your husband’s death
Made me feel as if I was short of breath
As the son of a Veteran who twice went to war
I’ve often wondered, what my life would have had in store
If my father had not returned home one day
And I had to share my grief on public display
I was not born the first time he went away
And was just ten when he left again, somehow feeling betrayed
I didn’t quite understand why he had to leave
It took a while to learn not to grieve
I read that you have two little boys, just six and eight
I can’t imagine what you say to make their restless dreams abate
My mind used to play out my greatest fear
Misplacing his last tape recording, saying his coming home date was near
On return tapes to him, I played guitar and talked too
Trying to make him feel like he was home, even if untrue
I write this note to help me remember
That even though my father returned in December
Many that go off to war, do not
And sons, daughters, spouses and families are caught
In a process of grieving that abates only with time
It takes as long as it does, there is no magical chime
To help you and your sons with your journey that I feared most
Enclosed is a contribution to their foundation host
Not at all a fair trade, just to help provide for their well being
I know you remind them that their father’s love is all seeing
Copyright © Shawn Sackman | Year Posted 2009
Who can understand why war still exists where
there are clouds reflected in water here
History has proven its futility
even the breeze has a peaceful touch
The graves of the fallen state “they died for us”
Lizards bask on warm stones
where we could not imagine
the compassion of our enemies
Tiny finches twitter in the hedges
How the agony of dying haunts forever those who see
Bright red ti leaves, philodendrons and crosses
of comrades fallen
In dense shadows of shower trees
greatest jubilation comes
where Mynas squabble, good naturedly
Such a happy sound of morning
Another war is over”
If only peace could last forever.
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013
Democrats vs. Republicans
Where oh where to begin
If one takes a dive into their lives you would see how one side always wins
For the red light is on, and times have certainly changed
We live in a world that is selfish and becoming more deranged
A house divided cannot stand
America is in fragmented pieces but they don’t understand
Words are cheap when actions lie
I vote for the man who’s in the sky
For he never changes and he really cares
Not these greedy politicians who point and stare
America is about the people who work hard in this life
Yet all our government seems to do is feed on weakness and strife
I am pro restoration,
I am pro family unity,
Not superficial comments spoken into our hurting community
A bitter game
It’s such a shame
It’s time for us to give America back its glorious fame
Speak with conviction
Hold up our youth
Burn all the lies and tell them the truth
There’s a generation that’s growing on welfare and government loans
Independence is being broken down by control that is clearly shown
A father fracture has intruded
Many hearts and minds are polluted
Do they care about restoring the family unit as a whole?
Or are they leeches sucking out all our young people’s souls
Purity has been banned
As they raise up sworn hands
I can see the coiling snakes
Oh dear America we have made a terrible mistake
What really matters has been perverse
Like a woman under a tragic curse
Vote for vitality
Not the pagan’s visions of immorality
Vote for untainted officials
Not for men who can’t control their own missiles
Restore the innocence to our children in our music and on TV
Someone be the voice stating that in bondage how can you call yourself free
Another chance, might be our last
Look to the leaders of Americas past,
Discern their virtue and read their soul
Then you will know which way you should go
Take the blinders and finally see
That we are being held captive to a rise of insanity
While we still got power take a missive stand,
Our land was blessed because of the convictions of man.
By: Sabina Nicole
Written: For such a time as this
Copyright © Sabina Nicole | Year Posted 2012
I watch with fascination; Mother Nature on a great warpath.
Thunderous drums sound warning; soon to feel her rightful wrath.
Thousands of black horses running boldly across the sky.
Warriors branding spears of lightning, mounted with such pride.
Angry at the white eyes, they circle with such speed.
A deafening wind now gathers, neath their mighty steeds.
We set upon destroying her, but her power is unbound.
Her whirling fingers now reach down and pluck us from her ground.
Her tears now flood our ugliness and wash it out to sea.
So vivid is my vision, but too late we will believe.
Written June 27, 2014
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014
A letter was received from a far-off land,
please send us some aid if you possibly can.
Our fields are barren, our cattle long gone,
our farmers are now soldiers leaving wives at home.
Some of our families are homeless, dwellings destroyed,
by shells aimed at our villages, which we cannot avoid.
Our children are starving; they have no clothes to wear.
As for medical supplies, these are very scarce.
So please send at once the things we desperately need,
food, clothing, and medicine, this we beg and plead.
We must thank you for all that you have done,
and could you also send more ammo for our guns.
Copyright © Ken Duddle | Year Posted 2012
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death;
I look at this war and I’m exhausted, and so out of breath!
I look to my spirituality for an answer to appear.
I’ve seen fellow marines die and “death” is what I ultimately fear!
The days seem to never end, and this desert is extremely hot!
I’ve witnessed the death of my friend and I ask God, why he got shot?
Yesterday, our platoon leader took a hit; two bullets to the back!
I want my country to know that we do this ---- for her and hope we make it out of Iraq!
I think about my family and I miss their warm and tender essence.
I wonder if my girlfriend thinks of me… I can’t wait to feel her presence.
I hope death doesn’t come for me; that I make it out of this hell hole.
I pray God forgives me for defending country; that I do not lose my soul!!
Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2011
Greetings, ladies and gentlemen of the Associated Press.
As you know, our modern world is a chaotic hostile mess,
And we are being overwhelmed by garbage and pollution.
Hyper-Magnetic Technologies (HMTCH) has the dual solution!
Our new hypermagnetic ballistic launcher (HMBL) weapon
Is the latest greatest weapon of mass destruction.
Imagine, if you will, an ongoing heavy barrage
Made up of waste chemicals, and landfill garbage.
For eample, if problems continued with Iraq or Iran,
We could bury in refuse both Bagdad and Tehran.
Their population would give such an outcry
That their governments would fall or be compelled to comply.
Forget about ICBMs or future US invasions--
Garbage will be the ultimate ‘big stick’ for persuasion.
One ten ton HBML Launch
Would be the penultimate sucker punch.
Air Defense Artillery cannot shoot trash down.
All garbage launched will hit the target ground.
Invest now while our stock prices are still low;
We have the signed contacts. Watch your portfolios grow!
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2015
THE UN-BEETABLE BUG
Simplicity, elasticity, beauty in the thirties,
not like some sedans, ugly and beastly
This popular car and it's history from the past,
from it's World War two template, it sure did last
How many know why it's being came to be,
a car for the German people, to what you've seen
The Sixties starts the decade of the Summer of love,
unique form of the bug fits these times like a glove
Born in Germany in yellow, black, blue or white,
but see I desire the color red so alluringly bright
Won't you agree, it looks sexy, pretty and nice?
This models size and style sparkles to burst some spice
Its voluptuous rounds makes it friendly and sleek,
to busy roads and highways surely it can easily sneak
It may look slow but I tell you: you are wrong!
This small car runs like the shooting star song.
Alongside trucks or vans, it doesn't tremble a fear
as when I turn the key, horsepower shy with its gear.
Easy so easy, I can turn the wheels to any curves
soothing so soothing to my sometimes worried nerves
Many a design of automobiles will pass
but hey, my red Volkswagen still holds the class.
The "un-beetable" Beetle bug definitely hits a big shot
to a parking lot you can easily save her a spot
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Fraser | Year Posted 2015