Best Tyres Poems
The scent of your soul
a caramalized breeze of fruit odours
reverbrating softly through my memory
Throwing me right back in ninth grade
where we sat side by side
Your right arm reaching slightly for my back
Your name resonates gently with my spirit
as thoughts of you dwell in my mind
Carrying me back to the shade
of purple grape orchids in evergreen woods
Our first kiss perched upon last autumn's twig
still lingers in early morn's bone-china cup
wafting its pungent aroma of dark roast coffee beans
and so the smell of rubber tyres against the wind
Such revoked moments of unknown danger and defiant fun
Other moments of beauty and snow angels
Of freedom and moonlights,sunrise and life
I can still recall the days,months,and years
till our footprints marked seperate paths
Ah,those days,those last hours,How can I forget?
Sweet as frosty vanilla and chocolate chips of an ice-cream parlour
Melting as spongy marshmallows and honey syrup
Fresh as the colour of every new dream which haunts me
llike an alluring glance of almond-shaped eyes
This afternoon,like other afternoons I walk to the library
which knows the musky sweat of your palm upon my own
That fragrance 's gone now,all that is left is the fading perfume
of forgotten petals between old books and dust
No one here except my silence ,and a rotten sliced apple
vacuum packed,lacking its cinnamon and even its spice.
Back home the mildewed strings of a guitar
await my fingertips to play once more
upon the worn out chords of my vacant heart
What will I play,what will I sing,a song which isn't ours?
Fermented wine I poured into a glass
Yearning to taste its purple grape for what it was
before all it was turned out bitter,acidic and sour
I wondered about where you might be,distant or not as far
Listening to my voice on once upon a record player
Or Wishing on a star ?
A repost (written : 10/15/2014
The scent of your soul
a caramelized breeze of fruit odours
reverberating softly through my memory
Throwing me right back into ninth grade
where we sat side by side
Your right arm reaching slightly for my back
Your name resonates gently with my spirit
as thoughts of you dwell in my mind
Carrying me back to the shade
of purple grape orchids in evergreen woods
Our first kiss perched upon last autumn's twig
still lingers in early morn's bone-china cup
wafting its pungent aroma of dark roast coffee beans
and so the smell of rubber tyres against the wind
Such revoked moments of unknown danger and defiant fun
Other moments,of beauty and snow angels
Of freedom and moonlights,sunrise and life
I can still recall the days,months,and years
till our footprints marked separate paths
Ah,those days,those last hours,How can I forget?
Sweet as frosty vanilla and chocolate chips of an ice cream parlour
Melting as spongy marshmallows and honey syrup
Fresh as the colour of your soul, which haunts me
like an alluring glance of almond-shaped eyes
This afternoon , like other afternoons I walk to the library
which knows the musky sweat of your palm upon my own
That fragrance 's gone now.All that is left is the fading perfume
of forgotten petals between old books and dust
No one here except my silence,and a rotten sliced apple
vacuum packed ,lacking its cinnamon and even its spice.
Back home,the mildewed strings of a guitar
await my fingertips to play once more
upon the worn out chords of my heart
What will I play,what will I sing ,a song which isn't ours ?
Fermented wine I poured into my glass
Yearning to taste its purple grape for what it was
before all it was turned bitter,acidic and sour
I wondered about where you might be ,distant or not as far
Listening to my voice on once upon a record player
Wishing on a star ?
Not for the contest
But thanks for the inspiration
Contest name-The Scent Of Your Soul
The scent of your soul
A caramelised breeze of fruit odours
reverberating softly through my memory
Throwing me right back in ninth grade
where we sat side by side
Your right arm reaching slightly for my back.
Thoughts of you dwell in my mind
and your name resonates gently with my spirit
carrying me back to the shade
of purple orchids in evergreen woods.
Our first kiss perched upon last autumn's twig
still lingers in early morn's bone-china cup
wafting its pungent aroma of dark roast coffee-beans
and so the smell of rubber tyres against the wind.
Such revoked moments of unknown danger
Of fearless dreams , and defiant fun.
Other moments of beauty and snow angels
Of freedom and moonlights ,sunrise and life.
I can still recall those weeks ,months ,years
till footprints marked separate paths
and our shared candles became the past.
Ah those lazy siestas, those days...those nights...
Sweet as frosty vanilla and chocolate chips of an ice -cream parlour
Melting as spongy marshmallows and honey syrup
Fresh as the linen of your shirt which haunts me
like an alluring glance of almond - shaped eyes.
This afternoon, like other afternoons, I walk to the library
that knows the musky sweat of your palm upon my own.
That fragrance 's gone now . All that is left is a fading perfume
of forgotten petals, between old books and dusty shelves.
Nobody here, except my silence and a rotten sliced apple ,
Vacuum- packed ,lacking both cinnamon and spice.
Back home, the mildewed strings of a guitar await my fingertips
to play once more ,upon the worn out chords of my heart
What willI play , What will I sing , a song that isn't ours ?
Fermented wine I pour into an empty glass
Yearning to taste the grape for what it was
before all it was turned bitter, acidic and sour.
Alone , I wonder where you might be
So far or not so distant ,listening to the mood in my voice
on once upon a record player, Wishing on a star ?
Matchstick Bikes
To tinkers and toilers
I salute,
From mending boilers
to weaving jute,
Man and boy
for generations,
I will unemploy
your occupations.
To brewers in sheds
I sink a few beers
To wet the heads
of our engineers,
From flat cloth caps
to matchstick men,
I will see the collapse
of pushers of pens.
To bakers, tailors
I wish you well,
To the soldiers and sailors
who fought and fell,
From doctors, nurses
to hobnail boots,
I will give your purses
to thieves in suits.
To the grieving docks
I drink a toast,
To tackle and blocks
and shipyard ghosts,
From warehouses, workshops
to fishing trawls,
I will flick my mop
in empty halls.
To union dues
I shake your hand,
To cleaning loos
and farming land,
From railway gauges
to industry,
I will turn the pages
of history.
To factory lines
I raise my glass,
'Neath abandoned mines
of times now past,
From overtime
to austerity,
I will frame the grime
for posterity.
To the silent mills
I tip my hat,
To what ever ills
and this and that,
From a steelworks spew
to a builders hole,
I will stand in a queue
to draw my dole.
To finance, the city
I bow in awe,
To show no pity,
to flout the law,
From sellers, buyers
to pickets and strikes
I will slash the tyres
of your matchstick bikes.
© RJVHorton2016
Terror has returned to the heart of Gotham City
Commissioner Gordon’s task sure isn’t pretty
Penguin, the Joker and Riddler are back on the scene
Stirring terror in our hearts, they sure are so mean
Wearing his mask and cape is our hero Bruce Wayne
With Batman around we hope peace will reign
Driving at the speed of light, you can hear the tyres squeal
When Batman is behind the wheel of the ‘Batmobile’
Batman doesn’t possess specific super powers
But he outwits the villains for many hours
Working together with is his faithful sidekick Robin
ZAP! KAPOW! Soon the villain’s heads are throbbing
Above the city buildings way up high
The Batman spotlight illuminates the sky
With the criminals locked up in jail, their job is done
They return to the ‘Batcave’ after a successful outcome
Contest: Comic Book Heroes .Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
24th May 2015
My alarm clock was set to go off at eight
When I lurched out of bed oh heck I was late
Forgot to move on the clock for an hour
I was late for work – no time for a shower
I dashed to get dressed at the speed of light
My son was laughing - he could see my plight
I ran to the bathroom to clean my teeth and face
My car keys were hiding, not in their usual place
Ran to the car in my receptionist attire
To my horror I found I had a flat tyre
Got out the jack and changed the spare wheel
Jumped in the car how the tyres did squeal
Drove to the office into the parking lot
But why it was empty – oh no I forgot….
Bank holiday the first week of May
BOTHERATION was all I could say
Drove home slowly, just like a snail
Just in time to open the mail
Then I did:
The washing and ironing,
cleaning and cooking,
(had a few chocolates when no one was looking)
the weeding and hoeing,
planted some seeds that needed sowing,
washed the car and mowed the lawn
then to the hairdresser to have my hair shorn,
sat down with a book and had a cup of tea -
need a bit of time relaxation for me,
Then I
washed and dried the dishes,
cleaned out and fed the kid’s goldfishes
bathed the kids and made them a snack
got in the shower and rubbed my aching back
adjusted the alarm for the right time in the morning
crawled into bed and then started snoring
Tomorrow when I go back into work
I won’t tell them my error or I’ll look a jerk!
05~11~15
Fictional write for Contest: Today I Accomplished
Sponsor Sara Kendrick
"This New Eden"
This eden
rolls gently over me
like Sunlight beams
the car lights shine
luminosity along
the road, the dark night
dims eventually and
morning arrives
This eden
rolls gently over me
life through pages
the antithesis of
a booker prize
don’t get all
literal on me
I’m in draft
it's messy
notes in the margins
left for heart
right for mind
the middle road
a highway of words
the body parched
the tyres all melting
sticky slow grips
the wheel shifting gears
up a notch or two
This eden
rolls gently over me
like Sunlight beams
they can’t see the
forest for the trees
the stings of bees kissing
velvet bookmarks silky
stretches of moist
long-necked fevers
I’ll park here for
a little while
the dark night
dims eventually,
morning arrives
this new eden
rolls gently over me
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Alone on a mountain top, she quietly sits.
Looking down below lies a dark pit.
On the other side runs a river next to a valley so green.
Pretty flowers everywhere, it’s the most beautiful scene
Overhead the birds are singing as they all fly by.
The setting of the sun adds a beautiful contrast to the colour of the sky.
Animals on the field playing around all so carefree.
This is the place she calls her own, a place to escape reality.
She closes her eyes for a minute, n the memories come flooding in.
Memories of her childhood days, life then was like a dream.
Climbing on the mango trees, making swings out of old tyres
Hide and seek in the garden and playing with toys made outta wires.
Sliding down the banks with old crates and cardboards.
Not missing an episode of star wars and playing with toy swords.
Running around bare feet n not worried about any cuts n bruises.
Having fun in all our games no matter who wins or loses.
Rushing home after school to catch her fav cartoons.
Sunday morning trips to the beach n been there till late in the afternoon.
Holidays and special occasions always celebrated with family and friends.
She opened her eyes n wished those days had never ended.
The sun had finally set, it was time for her to go.
But she will be back here soon, of that she sure knows.
For this is where she finds serenity, her place to be alone.
A place she feels free and far away from home.
She heads on back, an hour’s drive away.
She felt reluctant to leave, she wished she cud of stayed.
But she enjoys the long drive home as she passes a forest of trees
This is how she forgets about her pain by reliving the special memories. .
I welcome change
For I realize this life as a journey
Travelling insinuates progress
Progress means change
...of scenery, of events, of climate
Everyday I search
Treading one small step in front of yet another step
Travelling in a world of discovery and understanding
Today I see in me more than I did yesterday
The more I forge forward
The more I am enlightened
Hence the more I improve
I change and upgrade my goals out of newer acumen
I discard my old values like worn out tyres
Thankful to them for having brought me this far
For the journey to continue
I must swiftly replace the worn tyres of old values
With the newly retreaded ones
...of newer, higher, and better values
Yesterday, this day was only an imagination
Today it is a reality,
But since I have attained it, shall I stop travelling?
Nay, that is against Nature’s Law
This horizon has enabled me to perceive
... a far more beautiful end which I couldn’t yesterday perceive
Nor could I ever have perceived it any way had I not travelled this far
To it I feel drawn
To it I feel summoned with urgency
To it I must let my destiny flow
To it I must ensure my efforts guide me
For in it must be the clue for my next thrill
Such is the nature of travel
Such is the nature of humans
And I am only human
1969, two boys on the run
But on the run
To have much fun
Monday night, Boys Brigade
Where on this evening
A life will fade
The older by two years
Could ran very fast
The youngest in the race
Just couldn't last
Corner turned
I'll catch up you'll see
Where you are
I want to be
To reach that corner
I ran and ran
As I lifted my head
My brother hit by a van
As I reach the road
I hear screams above the brakes
Screeching tyres
As my world all breaks
My brother of nine
Dragged for fifty yards
Under a van
Body skinned and tarred
I stand there trembling
In fear and tears
Slow motion engulfs me
As I shuffle near
Panic sets as I turn and run
Past the corner
Where it all began
Running back to my father
Shouting Boom Booms dead
Images running through my head
My beloved brother
Who could run faster than thee
His life taken in front of me
To see what I seen
Just a boy of seven
Watching Angels take his brother to heaven
.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me.php
I’ll never forget that dark November night
Driving home on a moonless evening
One minute the road ahead seemed to be clear
Then you appeared from out of nowhere
I tried hard to stop, slammed on the breaks
But the road was wet and you went under the wheels
I could feel the tyres crushing your body …
There was no way you could have survived the impact
I pulled the car over and started shaking
Slowly opening the car door I walked to where you lay
Kneeling down beside you I could see you were dying
I stroked your battered face and begged for your forgiveness
Your lifeblood was draining away and your eyes flickered shut
Realising no one had witnessed the accident I had to act quickly
I scooped your lifeless body into the boot of my car
Somehow I managed to drive the few miles home
Then collapsed in tears in my husband’s arms
I kept repeating, there’s a body in the car, I didn’t mean to do it
There’s a body in the car, I didn’t mean to do it but no one saw
Trembling he went out to the car to see if what I was saying was the truth
Minutes later he came back
Come on; get your coat we need to bury the body in the garden
Grabbing the spade he carefully dug a hole
Together we placed the body of the young hedgehog to rest
Inspired by Shadow’s contest – I won’t be entering the contest, as premeditated killing is not a theme I feel comfortable writing about at the moment
31st July 2016
Motionless
It looked such a sorry sight
Standing in the shed
Covered in rust and dust
With just a trace of red
A vibrant red with a flash of black
Across the outside door
No sign of this embellishment
As the car sinks into the floor of the shed
A car that has lost its glory
Stands motionless and dead
This old car was my pride and joy
Many moons ago
It's going to be a wrench
To see this vehicle go
Even though the seats are worn
As are the tyres, gears and brakes
When the engine is turned on
A dreadful noise it makes
Smoke billows everywhere
The muffler has snuffed it
Mice have made their home in there
Which they must soon all exit
Broken windscreen, windows scratched
Doors all buckled and dented
Tattered stickers on the car
Air freshener that once was scented
I suppose it's true or so it's said
Everything has its day
This was my thinking
As the car was towed away
To the wreckers. a graveyard for most
One wonders if those worn-out cars
Become angels or ghosts
(* = i)
There’s a dimly lit house where a chicken sh*t mouse
Hides in a hole from the man and his spouse
He’s easy to please
Just leave him some cheese
And you won’t find a hole in your best Levi Strauss
But it’s easy to see when it’s fait accompli
And your new denim pants have a hole in one knee
To take care of that
They bought a big cat
Then somehow that one hole had turned into three
His wife bought those jeans so it started a row
She quipped why don’t you chase that mouse with a cow
They had quite a spat
Which frightened the cat
The mouse laughed and said so who’s chicken sh*t now?
*
Whoever said cats could catch mice were all liars
The man left the house and drove off - screeching tyres
He looked pretty grim
The house was still dim
That damned little mouse had chewed right though the wires
Your ear has to be
tuned to hear
the City's rhythms
buried below the noise
and be able to discern
a melody woven through
the dissonant chatter
as in the rumble and splash
of motorcar tyres moving
along streets slicked
with watery reflections
and in the jarring grind
of tram wheels,
screeching brakes
and warning bells
and in the cadence
of human voices
as heard in quiet
conversations and loud
yells - to feel
a sense of elation when
all the scattered notes
of a City come together
and you hear
its surprising song.
There were special places
where the mind could hide,
way up in the branches
of a tall tree, safe within
a ball of leaves,
halfway to heaven.
Or on a bike aimlessly riding
streets when the hypnotic
hum of tyres and the constant
rhythm broke through
and sent me
into a pleasant trance
as if the body was floating
free of the ground.
Then there were places
where you couldn't hide,
dark and musty hollows
they called holy places
populated with legions
of dead souls sniffling
their sorrows
in the candlelit air.
Dark cubicles carrying
the odor of sin,
the sour breath of absolution
filtering through
a curtained grill.
And all around, images
of pain plastered on walls
pressing a claim
for love under the threat
of everlasting fire
just for refusal.
It all sounds silly now,
the hellish props stacked away
in an unused corner
covered in ash.
Discarded remnants
of an ill informed past.
And yet at times, I am sure,
I can feel something small
still twitch on the end
of a severed nerve.
I call out. But nobody
seems to be there.