Why did they name it a freeway to begin with
Honestly it doubles your chances of getting hit
Drunk drivers and those with road rage throwing fits
Constantly driving defensively to avoid a near miss
Are the ramp meter lights really controlling the traffic
It causes more confusion when an idiot drives past it
It's on this road that the impatient show themselves
Another reason the insurance comanies are high in their sells
People changing lanes like they're under the influence
Tailgaters are annoying and also drivers with no insurance
If an accident happens anywhere on the freeway
Artificial traffic builds from the nosey looking that way
Then when lanes aren't moving but yours starts to
Someone always dares to dash right in front of you
You also have those who try to cheat the carpool
Even break through the solid lines just to roll through
That freeway business can be too much for me
To avoid that madnes I rather take the street
While sharing the ride
and not a lot to see or do
seated side by side
in the Chunnel queue
with commuters driving home
I took a look at the view
carpool tunnel vision syndrome
The charts and graphs of doom are steep.
Our worries pile up in a heap -
Into our brains it starts to seep -
Indeed, we are in trouble deep.
Will he move fast or slowly creep,
As he, at bay, we hope to keep,
Yet, knowing he will grimly reap?
There will be no one left to weep.
No sir, you will not hear a peep.
The lucky ones die in their sleep.
Epilogue
Then God will gather up his sheep.
They’ll need to carpool in a jeep,
In a traffic jam: beep beep beep beep!
Oft’ the person remembered by a song.
Short trip to the base, in the come along.
Don’t know much about the driver,
(We were bound with military fiber…)
but the cool-cassette-high in the carpool.
(Solo was free, paid for the fuel)
A country song, so sad my heart thrums -
Kenny Rogers, his “Lucille”, marriage outcomes…
The lyrics of grim, delightfully illumined my brain.
True of Country magic and its complaining refrain.
I can hear the twang, though separated by years.
The refrain from the man broken, small & in tears.
Lucille’s conquest couldn’t get going aft’ the outburst.
Their time together, though kissed by whisky, cursed.
I think the driver was Glen. Don’t remember much,
but the lingering song - and the get along crutch.
7/3/2023
Ever heard of the beautiful Ohio?
The writer in me wants you to know -
River life has its anecdotes
My granny, a German immigrant,
mastered that river in dinghy boats
to attend a Lutheran church.
I've crossed its waves on a raft that floats.
The writer in me wants you to know -
My father conquered the Ohio
on a ferryboat two times a day.
Except... when April rains closed the floodwall.
Then his carpool drove seventy miles one way
to cross on the next nearest bridge
in not-so-nearby Owensville Bay.
The Ohio River changes its flow.
The writer in me wants you to know.
My grandpa walked it in the depth of winter's freeze;
my grandkids explore its fossils in summer's drought.
Swimming it upstream is not an easy breeze
but its muddy shores hold childhood treasure.
It's where we teens met with our main squeeze.
August 14, 2021
Sponsor Constance La France
Contest Name Your Favorite Rhyme Poem in August 2021
Kristin says he wasn’t good enough for me.
Kristin tells Andrew she loves him in front of me.
Kristin wishes Andrew was more thoughtful.
Kristin says nobody is ever enough, anyways.
Katie says I can do better.
Katie says Jackson is perfect for her.
Katie likes to fix things:
problems with no solution.
Anna doesn’t care about anything. Anna says I need to let go.
My friends from home agree, say it’s time to forget.
Kathryn says I need to love myself first. But
Kathryn says love isn’t real.
Lane says it’s going to be okay. I say it’s not.
Christy and Julie and Ansley and Bailey say nothing.
Carson says I talk about him too much.
Carson says I talk too much.
Everyone wants to tell me something
of their own but I just want
somebody to admit to me
the capital T
Truth.
That some small part of me
will always be the child
who cried on the first day of kindergarten
then pressed her white oval nose
tight to the car window
as she rounded out of the carpool lane.
The child who begged for more
when life promised it would hurt me.
So, you think gangs are cool,
Are you really that big a fool,
Did I not see you at a rally to make women your equal?
And did you not support a carpool,
To keep children safe from a possible ghoul.
What makes you think gangs will let any woman think they are equal,
Did you not hear about shots being fired at a car that was taking kids,
to school?
Might not a gang member have the potential to become a ghoul,
Now do you still think gangs are cool,
Or are you an even bigger fool.
So, what can you do to show you are no fool,
Without being shot by a ghoul,
If you have kids in school,
Tell them you think gangs are no longer cool,
When they bring drugs to school,
Which if imported could be funding terrorists,
Who are even less cool,
I am sure, there is even more you can do,
If you want women to be your equal,
Your children to be safe at school,
And you have not yet sold your soul.
Respect dead people and never sleep with them
Don't expect call backs from the dead
Smoking, drinking and deceased in trunks of cars
Are bad habits and probably against the law in Alabama
It is impolite to shoot dead people out of canons
Or drop them from airplanes way up high at midnight
Though they have no fear of flight or need of parachutes
The activities are rude so just don't do it
Dead people belong in cemeteries or in urns
Not meant to be refrigerated in home appliances
Or kept next to the milk and cheese for freshness
They are not good company but make great listeners
Carpool lanes move faster with more bodies in the car
When stopped for speeding dead people come in handy
Place one of them in the driver's seat to get the fine
They don't mind screaming cops or ticketing
Let them rest in peace with or without a seatbelt on
The safest place on Earth to sleep is in the cemetery
Dead people will never hurt you because they are dead
Fear the living because they are alive and kicking heads
Before the crack of dawn
Quickly washes, throws her clothes on
Hustles downstairs in a second or two
In a rush: Instant coffee will have to do
With love she makes breakfasts for her other four
Four lunches too, 'fore she hurries out the door
Sprints to catch the 6:30 bus on her way to school
Unlike other teachers, who drive or carpool
Each bus ride seventy-five minutes of stops and starts
Every one a fresh jolt to her mind and her heart
Yet she's smiling away, calm and serene
By 8:00, surveying her classroom's scene
*********
The teens straggle in, looking dead as doornails
Acting as if they'd just been sentenced to jail
The teacher smiles bravely and begins the class
Her students put their heads down, tone-deaf, so crass
I’m from toy cars and mismatched Barbie shoes.
I’m from bike races down the one road where no unpadded limb was safe.
I’m from a Sunday carpool and Tom Thumb slushies in Florala.
I’m from the twang of Conway Twitty,
the screams of Aerosmith and a hundred dances in between.
I am a child, finding joy in excitement!
I’m from dribbling chins and watermelon juice,
“Goodnight, sissy”, Band-Aids and kissing boo-boos.
I am a role model, finding strength in my fear.
I’m from bonfires, tailgates, and kissing goodbye. Barbeque at Jay’s and Christmas at the Hill.
I’m from standing on a milk crate to shoot pool and burning eyes in Walmart swimming pools.
I’m from Easy’s growl and Smokey’s purr.
I am passionate, finding love in freedom
I’m from jumping on a trampoline in torrential rain and the smell of roses
I’m from barefoot adventures, crawdad fishing, and “stay out of my pecan trees!”
I’m from 3 am Life with Ethan and 2 pm short cuts to Kayla’s
I am the hope I find in myself.
I’m from rivers, I am from oceans.
I am from pain and joy and tears of both,
I’m from love and belief in the power of unity.
I’m from toy cars and mismatched Barbie shoes.
i speak trouble yes
i speak trouble
late night rumble
very quiet mumble
summertime symptoms
slipped in subtle
suddenly i want to see
the warmth right before
the crunching of some autumn leaves
too hot at noon, makes the warmest evenings
writing on walls, illegal to draw
remind me of nights, all fear was small
bliss and inner peace
abundant as dinner treats
everyday i made away
with darker skin, and dirty feet
heart disease not bittersweet
park and freeze like little creeps
when passerby, might quantify
activities, helping secrets to keep
no such trouble yes
no such trouble
all the wonder, many lovers
i wrestled and played with shovels
pedestrian and landlord
i rummaged through the rubble
pasta without sauce, and gallons of tap water
vaporizing sacred flowers
that smell of exotic jungles
worries never entering
my vision like a tunnel
fleeting as a hummingbird
never ashamed to cuddle
never new a softer word
never cared for struggle
running free to paradise
cause my license priced had doubled
delighted to ride a bike
rain reason not to huddle
traveled all i sought to see
carpool or a shuttle
impermanence just a word
pouring down the funnel
I awoke in a kitchen
on a pillow of aprons;
my body covered with bruises
from a mob of angry patrons.
Then I came to in my bed
with all my ex-lovers
and their menstrual blood
absorbed by my covers.
Then I was asleep on the freeway,
alone in the carpool lane;
drove off a bridge in California
and woke up underwater in Maine.
Then I was alive in a coffin
snuggled with a teddy bear –
a knocking at my door,
but I pretended I wasn’t there.
Then I was back to the mirror
engraving my eyes with glass;
as the lights went out,
my ears started to laugh.
Then I was shivering on a pier
with a needle in my arm,
and my intestines unraveling
like a ball of yarn.
Then I was behind steel bars -
opposite a prison guard;
telling him your address,
and handing him a postcard.
Mother Earth is everything.
We must protect her, and keep her health.
So far we have done a poor job,
and her pain can be felt.
We are destroying our mother
With garbage and waste.
Now she needs our help,
And we must do so with haste.
There’s so much we can do,
Like reduce, reuse, and recycle.
Do not litter or carpool,
you can walk, or ride a bicycle.
Just remember, Earth is not ours,
It belongs to everything living.
This is not our world to destroy
It’s our only home, and we’ve been evil, and she’s been giving.
I practice with the boys
The dirty filthy boys
The cute funny boys
My new soccer team
I had to play
No matter what
I guess this hadn't
Occurred to me
I practice with the boys
The smelly annoying boys
The fast strong boys
They accept me
As one of them
Play, laugh, slide tackle
Together at practice
In a team huddle
I practice with the boys
The pushy uptight boys
The sweet friendly boys
We cram into cars
On cold nights
We carpool to games
We spend four nights a week
Together
I practice with the boys
The mean jerky boys
The nice hot boys
I get cold
They give me a jacket
I hurt myself
They carry me off the field
I get tired
They give me a shoulder to lean on
I play with the boys
The best friends I could ask for