Best Motored Poems

some-tin-can-tan-man 
playing in the sand
with paper tigers
  a bear with many tentacles
red everywhere
	in the skies
  clouds streaming down
hispeed downsload online power lines
  pavement-red trees ripe for slicing
 and many motored mobiles moving
i see these incessant seas of disease
in roving throes of twos...

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We were out on our yacht for the long weekend.
We boated in luxury until Monday did descend.
Lake Winnipesaukee provided a spectacular view.
My father-in-law Frank, and our two dogs made up our crew.

Our chow dog Molly particularly loved the boat.
She drew a cheering crowd when we...

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-
Windows thrown open on a sunny June morning  
Refreshing and uplighting like a sun flower's first captured vision
Breathe deep and absorb the sallowed air
A woodpecker knocks and signals that summer has sprouted at last

The window causes the wood pigeon to scare and swoop away...

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The bike was loaded and packed
The duffle bag strapped to the rack
The air was crisp when we started out at dawn
In the early morning hours we were gone 
Down the road with the wind on our faces
Off to visit some far off places 
Headed south...

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Now this is a little story of the caravan that rocked
Whether parked in roadside lay-bys, the locals were never shocked

They travelled from the Highlands and motored so far and wide
Exercising their freedom, oh my! that you couldn't hide

They lived just south of Ullapool, and further...

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Flashback to Fridays when I was a wanted guest
a common companion strolling the riverside
with more than just the moon willing to chat
where words resonated with hand-cut diamonds
lighting up my vision and your restful eyes
where missed lessons were backtracked 
and praise was left to pigeons hiding
in...

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We knaves had orders both explicit and dumb:
Scare the blazes out of a management bum.
Thunderstorm weather rocked wide Prince William Sound,
Feisty gales pouring rain all around.

My partner and I took our overseer
In a tiny smoker craft quite rough to steer.
Motoring south, mighty gusts drove us...

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Those wooden meant to for all season,
Blue painted motored boats beacon,
Us to calm green sea waters,
To sail on and that’s all that matters.

The calm green waters dolphin rides,
Deep inside when the tide subsides.
Eight pals and two sailors sailed on
On a boat with the rent haggled...

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In the brackish water of a tideland flat 
A delicious creature grows up and gets fat
Louisiana Brown shrimp is its name
Their excellent flavor has brought them fame

They call them Brownies and they’re caught by net
My first time shrimping, I’ll never forget
My friend Remy was of...

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He tossed the ball gently to his one and only son,
Taught him all the rules and he showed him how to run.
"Don't matter if you win or lose, I don't really care,
As long as you play the game and that you play it fair."

She wrote...

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I died many years ago, here, on this roofed bridge ...
Oh, how many years is no matter - they always pass like
Days to me now. You see, eternity makes such things
Moot - such considerations blow like smoke in the wind,

But there were not the motored...

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28th jan2012
By Sashi Prabhu(zeauoxian)
These wooden meant to for all season,
Blue painted motored boats beacon,
Us to calm green sea waters,
To sail on and that’s all that matters.

The calm green waters dolphin rides,
Deep inside when the tide subsides.
Eight pals and two sailors sailed on
On a boat with...

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If you’ve been to north New York,
or the western side of Vermont,
you might’ve head of a sea monster,
the vast Lake Champlain is his haunt.

The locals all call him ‘Champy,’
not to dissimilar to Loch Ness,
many folks claim they have seen Champ
rising up from the chilly depths.

Now...

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-On my way to Higher Learning-

On my way to higher learning
Thirst for knowledge hotly burning
holes into my soul left yearning.
Dazed once more by heedless turning,
causing me to dodge by swerving.
This time though I stopped, and cursing,
approached the latest jerk, unnerving
this moron with knuckles turning
car door...

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Once the “go to guy”
I linger, ever hopeful
Of a need to fill.
Long for the
Tickle
Of long grass
Crackle
of fallen leaves
Scent
of the garden.
I am older
my handle
slightly splintered
my tines
bent
several missing.
Mocked
by motored newcomers
I wait
knowing 
there are still times
that situations
will call for
The “go to guy”

John G. Lawless
©1/8/2023...

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