The most relaxed woman I have ever met, and yet seems quite sane.
Watched her nap in the dining car while bandits were robbing the train.
She slept through gunfire, and barely stirred during her little sleep.
Did she hear the screaming? No. She slumbered and deep.
Is she okay? The detectives asked after they had questioned the rest.
Don’t know, I replied. Let’s give her the ultimate sure-fire mom test.
So, we got as quiet as this carload of strangers could ever get.
And that professional mother came up rapidly, with fire and spit.
Why is it so quiet? What is going on here? She demanded to know.
Surprised, for she had missed the entire bandit shooting show.
Something is off, she said. With many children, it is never this quiet.
Did not stop asking until we rewound the tape showing her the riot.
I knew something was wrong, she said. Next time wake me up, okay?
This woman was the mother of sixteen children, happy and gay.
She had raised them to be responsible and never start a fight or riot.
I learned a professional mother wakes when people get quiet.
Categories:
carload, mother, parents,
Form: Rhyme
Whirling leaves of gold and rust travel past me in an ethereal way
Enjoying the float of a gentle glide of morning autumn air.
Squirrel tails chase each other around an oak tree
Ends of toothy fat mouths that are excitedly chattering.
My soft sweater protects me from the brisk air of October.
A carload of young lads slows down to watch a pretty co-ed.
An unaware beauty clothed in a plaid skirt with a matching tam.
Homecoming is around the corner; I imagine her at a bonfire.
Flames kicking and popping, enticing romantic confessions.
Her embers turning gray and black in eager anticipation
The strength of this season oozing out of every corner
Shadows snickering, hoping for the smell of s’mores.
Categories:
carload, autumn,
Form: Verse
We were newlyweds married for only a week,
On our way to Houston, with our love at its peak.
On the way we stopped on the side of the road,
He had spied a cotton field and stopped with our full carload.
My husband said, “Go pick us a cotton ball to remember this day.”
So I picked the cotton ball in the field and we went on our way.
That ball of cotton was on our Christmas tree every year for 30 years,
Through the good times, the bad times, and some tears.
After the divorce I came across the cotton ball in my things,
A symbol of a love now gone, like my wedding ring.
What do you do with a cotton ball that epitomized our bliss?
With a sigh and a tear I tossed it … moving on, and did not reminisce.
5/20/16
Contest No 210 Any Form-Any Theme With Max 12 Lines
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Awarded 10th Place
Categories:
carload, break up, divorce, love,
Form: Rhyme
I say; Happy Birthday, to you today.
To someone special, in a loving way.
I dedicate this song to you.
And give my thanks, for all the time you shared.
I'll send a bouquet of flowers too.
Something special, while in love with you.
Petunias, Roses, maybe Daffodils.
Something special for the windowsills.
I say; Happy Birthday, to you today.
To someone special, in a loving way.
I dedicate this song to you.
And give my thanks, for all the time you shared.
I'll ice the cake, and bring the candles too.
Something special, from me to you..
I'll bring a carload of friends along.
Everybody will just join the fun.
We'll light the candles.
You can blow them out.
Everybody will just scream and shout.
And say; Happy Birthday, to you today.
To someone special, in a loving way......
Birthday Song By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1989,2014..
ALL rights reserved..
Categories:
carload, birthday, song, daffodils,
Form: Ballad
When I was young I had a bad temper.
As mean as a dog you could not make me whimper.
Fighting back then was more like a game.
Even when you fought you were friends just the same.
Something to do to test your skills.
To see who was best in this battle of wills.
A fisticuff thing that was all done in fun.
No one ever got so mad they went for a gun.
At football games there was much rivalry.
A fight maybe two then you would walk away and just let it be.
The idol back then had to be James Dean.
Them old pointed toed shoes with our hair slicked back that was making the
scene.
A nickel bottle of pop with two straws I can picture it all.
Cruising the town with a carload of kids oh what a ball.
I remember when telephones had letters instead of numbers in their prefixes.
Remember when you got sent to the principles office to get licks?
Remember when you just got am radio and 45s was a record?
Oh , Calgon take me back, what about the Bird is a Word?
Penny loafers, if you wanted to date you had to talk with the girl’s father,
Slipping in to the drive-in in the trunk of a car, a bar of candy was a nickel.
This has got to be continued
Categories:
carload, life, nostalgia, me,
Form: Narrative
Morning sunrise through the sleepy eyes of a young boy bringing
anticipation of sundown and a starlit night
while the chevy still slept in front of the house soon to be
treated to a sponge bath and turtle wax while an internal cleansing
prepared for the evenings adventure dollar a carload
and the carload is two
cruising to the row in the back and waiting for a show to start
that would never be seen
for you were the queen of the last row
of the drive in picture show
And I was the fresh prince of the back seat
of my Bel Air.
Categories:
carload, life,
Form: Free verse