I rode my first rice burner bike
beyond the wild blue yonder
going solo the only way to go
on a red 50cc Honda
as being part of a bike brotherhood
was never in my repertoire
and moving on in Hawaii
my next was a 650 Yamaha
my last tho' fairly fast
in fact still quite nifty
on the hills of San Francisco
was a black Suzuki 550
if a motorcycle means personal freedom
of the road stretching out ahead
why do so many feel the need
to ride in packs instead?
Her name is, Lucy
Her twin is Ricky
He is green with Envy
Because I’ve left him behind
There’s no ‘splainin’ to do
Nothing more to pursue
I just simply knew
All I could do was sigh
She purrs like a kitten
I was totally smitten
When my eyes
First upon her
Did lie
My thoughts preoccupied
By my diamond in the sky
Our twin stars aligned
Hers and mine
This union well-timed
We’ll ride the highlands and the low
Oh the places we’ll go
The curves and the bends
Wherever life sends
Us
To venture with flair and gusto
Together as one
At once I’m undone
I love Lucy
No more to see
Or say
Much finer than she was battling with death,
Nicer than when she had survivor’s breath
Returned to her hurt face the freshest health;
Like one who’d begun anew to test wealth…
Twenty-One Gun Salute to Mortician:
For Morticians I’d turn a musician
In all my songs rank one Perfect Magician;
I wouldn’t trouble the word ‘Beautician’…
Then, cash does motivate a last wonder:
Her husband had for this sold his Honda
To delay one’s commitment Real Blunder
In death you still tore loved one asunder…
When his father-in-law got him
into the poultry biz in Rhode Island
Joe had not fully contemplated that
first day to market when he
when he failed to truss and bag the birds
properly, a holy-moly cock-up so
when he tossed them into his ’02
Honda Accord LX to parlay
the beasties down 95 South RI,
they managed to wriggle free
the chickens did, got loose
from the burlap sack
the chickens did, flapping anarchy,
and mayhem, and bad policy about
the Aught-Deux’s upscale cabin,
the mad bastard capons pocking
fine leatherette and Boze while
Bad Chicken Farmer Joe flailed away,
fowl and feathers, feathers and fowl
flailing, clawing, at the faux cherry
wheel, finally rip-cording his failed way
down exit 8A for Quonset Point,
where, at the light, the cross-walkers froze
glaciating, mightily at the cockerel mayhem
unraveling inside a popular Midclass Sedan.
THE OLD HONDA
Truly I am happy
with my old jalopy
once it brought me trophy
in a vintage car race.
I bought it scarlet red
Now color has faded
showing rusty pale shade
dusty dull, no solace.
It’s my first car Honda.
Not for propaganda,
but my wife Miranda
looks at it with bright face.
Fifty years back me Philip
on our sweet honeymoon trip,
not gone on cruise in ship,
but drove Honda to rejoice.
07/20/19
'Favorite Poem in Rhyme from July 2019' Contest by Julia Ward
Me and Honda were made for each other
Vows that were uttered at the starting buzzer
A union unique
A 35 year streak
How loyal is that, this brand loyal lover
Past winters were extremely harsh
and driving my green Honda was tough;
it's certainly not a luxury car...
whenever I go, it gets me far.
Once it broke down in a parking lot
near Kennedy International Airport;
and I lost a good day's work
by making me feel like a real jerk!
The check light came on, it needed repairs immediately...
do you know how much it cost me?
Almost a thousands dollars, plus the headache it gave me!
But until now it has run perfectly!
I hate riding my green Honda in the evening breeze
when the pollen from the trees make me sneeze;
I should close my sunroof, roll up all windows...
but I wouldn't be racing with the warm wind like cowboys!
Written by Andrew Crisci
for Brown Carol's contest,
" My First Car "
Circus under rain
girgling rythematic breath
Rainbow underneath
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
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