Fiberglass Poems | Examples

Still Blinking III

First, remove the eyelids—
they hold too much fiberglass.
Grind streetlight into gunpowder,
cut it with gravel—snort the cocaine dusk.
Take the sidewalk like heretic communion,
metal-flake wine, asphalt host.

She blinks razors.
Stars break in her clavicle.
You don’t touch her—you calibrate.
Banana fingers, bruised and humming,
plucking vapor off the fencepost.
Storm-laced teeth.
Voice as hinge,
breath as cordless vacuum 
throat tightrope over a cheap
motel dirty sink.

We lit the penguin rodeo in her Glacial ribcage.
Called the roots collect.
Spoke in wire glyphs.
The cancer slept in our gums,
soft, radiant.
I opened her chest 
found an IPhone 
still blinking,
still ringing,
with no one left to answer.

Midnight Confessions

First, remove the eyelids—
they hold too much fiberglass.
Grind streetlight into gunpowder,
cut it with gravel—snort the cocaine dusk.
Take the sidewalk like heretic communion,
metal-flake wine, asphalt host.

She blinks razors.
Stars break in her clavicle.
You don’t touch her—you calibrate.
Banana fingers, bruised and humming,
plucking vapor off the fencepost.
Storm-laced teeth.
Voice as hinge,
breath as cordless vacuum 
throat tightrope over a cheap
motel dirty sink.

We lit the penguin rodeo in her Glacial ribcage.
Called the roots collect.
Spoke in wire glyphs.
The cancer slept in our gums,
soft, radiant.
I opened her chest 
found an IPhone 
still blinking,
still ringing,
with no one left to answer.

Gourmet food, rings ,pendants, and braclets

The bulbs sprouted
beneath the bright blue
umbrella sky. Line by
line they grew and grew
The lines bloomed into
a sweet fragrant place.

The groom shall
 keep his name
and a world shall stand to
greet him
his future bride
will walk the aisle
 then to meet him
there they'll stand
 in the blooming
field  to vow and kiss
and greet
they'll take thanks
and we'll all go there
to dine and dance
they'll leave for there 
honeymoon
when the opportunity
 creates a chance.

They hid behind the large fiberglass moulds stored in the
shed. she said they kissed there for hours.
They decided to marry that very day.

Highway Zeal

fiberglass flickers
in the field near a roadway~
i'm hoping it's love

Written: August 18, 2022

Awakening His Interest

Von Hess, she called to him as h walked
through the forest as if he were
walking through  jungle. his task was to
jack the side of the shipping container
and install the fiberglass holding tank
that he forgot to bring the day
we constructed the site.Zabada, she
said I heard you are only used to
 fill-in for others. He disappeared
beneath the container
doing his work: he stuck his head out
and told "her you have to start somewhere"!
She told him, this is meant to stroke your
ego, this is meant to make you understand,
 i have seen you at your best and there are fewer
than a handful better than you. conscious and
semi-consciousness you have ended bout 
afte bout victorious, mind you we
have spent time and money honing your craft,
 don't let these people straddle you over
 the harness, to acheive their own agenda! "i hear you 
Honey pass me the sealant!" moments later
she heard him grunt, he than scooted from under
the container and got up, ' all things in time, babe,let's
get some relish for the saucage,i'm hungry!"

War Crimes

The 90 year old
Could no longer bend or even lean
Over
His brother’s grave

Stands in the sun with his planted cane

At his elbow

Tells me
He hears his brother speak from the grass
“Bobby, where have you been all these years?”

Dad turns to me
Says when he was 13
And the Army telegram arrived at the house
And his mother and father tore it open
On the Roosevelt porch

He ran down Sutherland Street to downtown Ironwood
With shock if not even a grin
Wired across his face

Shouting from the Walnut-split sidewalks
“My brother’s been killed! My brother’s been killed!”

Haunted
By his youthful exuberance 
For all his old days thereafter

Thought he was responsible
For his mother losing her hair
Nest unraveled by a storm

For his father
Never using a razor again
Instead, each morning
Rubbing expressions clean in the sink
With his palms

For the only thing
Left standing
In this near-abandoned mining town

A fifty foot fiberglass statute
Of Chief Hiawatha
Gazing over the passage of centuries

Never lets go of any soul
No matter the crimes against humanity.

Corvette Dream

In the world of automobiles, this is a shining star.
Many call this America's only true sports car.
With a fiberglass body, and a big, powerful V-8,
zooming down any road would certainly be great
Presently, I have one very big personal regret:
With a hefty price tag, I can't afford one yet.

Bonnie Belle

Bonnie Belle was a dear charming lass
Drove a pink corvette made from fiberglass
Lived in a tiny little house next to an overpass
Precisely with a pair of scissors trimmed her grass

Figure chiseled like an hourglass
Dressed the part as if upper class
Drank her coffee from a demitasse
But much preferred her brandy by the glass

Kept her eye on life through a spy glass
Looking for that illusive ring of brass
Finding clues here and there in every crevasse
With far too little luck, alas



AP: Honorable Mention 2020

Submitted on February 27, 2018

She Told Me

I have just come back home
From the call center office
You called me many a time
It was of course a chime
Yes, talking to you certainly
As they are always of glee
Would indeed have been a respite
In these working hours tight
But the bloody headphone
Under which I’ve to groan
Has taken over both my ears
They must only him hear
What the audio will convey
Whether January or May
And the computer vision syndrome
Tells upon my chromosome
The monitor fills all my vision
I am forced into the fusion
Listening reading and writing
With myself I keep fighting
When you call me on a chat
It has obviously to fall flat
Hour after hour in a row
Damn helpless robotic bow
Over my fiberglass disgusting desk
A pitiable horrid statuesque
Have neither rain nor dew
I know I was rude to you 
Excuse me please if you can
Have now just returned
Ten hours of damn taxing job
Terribly troubles my peace

I sit at my pale window
The train departs anxiously
A melancholy engine in a shadow
Drops me off more lonely
_____________________________

Canoeing On Mars

Imagine that we are out boating on 
A lovely Sunday afternoon that floats
Our imaginations like wind swept clouds,
Rippling from horizon to horizon.
You are pillowed in the bow of our canoe,
A thin foam pad lifts you off wood ribbed bottom.
No smooth fiberglass for us, a bright
Umbrella protects you from the sun,
And a wine-rich picnic basket awaits us
As underwater green leaves dampen our motion
In the shallow but glass-smooth mountain lake,
That bends high breaking waves, ridges of buoyant rock
Like a telescope lens, magnifying, doubling our joy.
Craters marring our surface are more visible too,
So close are we now that your flaws seem 
Almost touchable in the fragrant breeze
As breathing its emotionally charged air
We clumsily explore the terraformed landscape,
Together, alone, here, Adam and Eve on Mars.

Brian Johnston
October 1, 2015

Front Door

Visit a place where you’ve not been before
And the first thing you face is the sturdy front door.
Of fiberglass, oak, tempered glass, even steel,
The entryway should have a certain appeal.

My country home door, though, was streaky with rust.
The paint was all puckered, the cracks filled with dust.
The glass in the windows no longer got clean;
My husband was tired of changing the screen.

So I finally gave in and we got a new door,
A portal to spiff up the entry décor.
It isn’t embellished, just simple and plain
But it’s neat, a condition I hope to maintain.

When visitors come, they may notice or not
For most likely, the old one was one they forgot
But I’ll welcome them all with the door opened wide
And embrace every one that I usher inside.

Sonnet of Trains

The trains of old, were dubbed the “iron horse”; 
newer trains were known as, “bullets”, of course.
Flying past with the speed of light;
they cross the world, both day and night.

Once coal and steam propelled these beasts;
today the beasts are fast, but weak.
Of tin and vinyl, these are made;
of fiberglass and plastic panes.

With electricity, they are now, propelled;
nevertheless, they do not run as well.
No personality, have these new trains;
they’re not pretty; just quite plain.

If only man could see the facts;
He’d not hesitate, to bring, the old trains back.

Nothing Personified

I have never thought of death.
Well, that's not true. Everyone
does at a time. A peopled perishing
 
if you will. We constitute it
with sickles or in a carriage
or call him soft names. Man
 
versus death; man conquers
this nothing by attaching arms,
ears, heart so it may feel its indifference
 
resonating like fingernails on fiberglass.
The great human figure, now
cyclical of its mortal fragility.
 
Were our endeavors false,
these simulacra, these apparitions
beset gaily on their creator?
 
Like a cement plant, are we
indebted to the dust made
by our hands, and fills our lungs?
 
All I know is
it's an inconceivable sadness to think
I have never thought of death.

Corvette

The most thrilling experience anyone can get
is speeding along in a convertible Corvette
This powerful four-wheeled machine is much better than good
when it’s got over four hundred horsepower under the hood.
Driving one of these gems is moving in first class
There is plenty of get up and go under that shell of fiberglass.
What a sweet time on a warm summer’s day
when I can zoom down an open highway.
Just my sweet attractive doll is riding beside me.
We move along at the speed limit so carefree.
You haven’t driven until you get inside a Corvette.
Chevrolet’s sporty model is the best one yet.
This baby displays her true colors when the flag’s unfurled.
There is nothing quite like her anywhere in the world.

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