He blooms intimacy with her,
She got captivate and left unheard,
She kept on weeping and uttering
It led her to stress and discomfort,
He sat stable, greedy, needy of wanting more affection,
he didn't acquaint with her love,
Her notion lead on to put one's trust in faith and reliance,
She then executed her sense of awareness,
He wasn't interested in her, all he had a fancy for her anatomy and bodywork.
He framed her in his misdeed,
She insisted to stop and let her wannabe,
She grew stronger with no strings attached,
Her mortality got split into the illumination of Facts.
One fine day, a flame of inspiration gazed her intonation,
She reflected the melody of a light walker in preconception.
Her milestone of reaching heights were different patterns of rhythm and pauses,
All she flourished with a set of behavioural interventions and causes.
Categories:
bodywork, deep, emotions, fate, feelings,
Form: Rhyme
Envy
Look at this man
he has got a Mercedes. I have not got one
my heart aches I covet this car.
No matter how hard I try, I can not afford to buy one.
But I can take this man´s pleasure in his car away.
I hate this man and his bloody car.
Scrape the bodywork on this gleaming pride, accidentally
run into him, sorry my man, the breaks failed.
Do anything to he tires of his car and put it up for sale
my glee was boundless when the vehicle was sold.
But what do you know, he bought another Mercedes.
Categories:
bodywork, blessing, cinderella, creation,
Form: Blank verse
Power to the Plough.
She sits there all used up, a shadow of her past self. The remains of her bodywork, only survive.
Rusting, and decaying into an iron oxide heap. No more use, the old gal is turning into a junk yard art scape.
Mice make homes in her alcoves, spiders spin webs amongst her corroded remains.
The red Fergie has passed her sell by date, a relic from the past.
She had a full and busy life on the farm, powering the plough to turn the earth.
Sowing, planting and rolling the fields.
Reaping the rewards of the harvest, towing trailers of corn, grass, and hay bales in the summer sun. The farmers friend, rugged and dependable, out in all weathers.
After all that she is just a farm vehicle, a tool of the trade. Her days of powering the plough are over now.
Categories:
bodywork, seasons,
Form: Free verse
Hondo Died Yesterday
By Rick Rucker
“Hondo died yesterday,”
I heard the news, I said “No way!”
He seemed so big, and strong,
I was sure he would enjoy a life, very long,
Always there, with a joke,
Or a cigar to smoke,
In his eye, a devilish spark,
Or from his mouth, a wise remark,
With the ladies, an unrepentant flirt,
In a Tommy Bahama shirt,
Such was his fame,
We were all drawn to him, as moths to a flame!
When he was born, they broke the mold,
There couldn’t be two so bold,
It wouldn’t do to have more than one,
We couldn’t take so much fun!
I know I will miss him every day,
But most especially on a car show Sunday,
Someone else will man the mike,
No disrespect, but he will be like,
Comparing bodywork to Bondo,
No one else could be like Hondo!
Categories:
bodywork, death
Form: Couplet