Long Tires Poems
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Lawn Mower Facts
Briggs and Stratton is number one,
Grandpa use to say…
They will last until the cows come home.
Then he dreamed a bit…
The Deere, Oh John, he plows forever,
If you can afford one, that is.
Fixing things that did not run,
with magic hands, old and withered with time.
Still able to join nothing into something,
Spark and start the blades,
whirling and the grass goes down.
Piles of old tires behind the shed.
Decks without engines, gas tanks empty.
This was the land of possibilities.
Grandpa was always moving, forward.
Frames of things, welders to melt steel,
so hot you could feel.
Then…
Mini bikes, with stolen power, leaving the grass too long.
Pushing all the right buttons, changing all the right gears.
Faster and faster.
Grandpa was right. (as always)
Briggs, are wonderful for cutting the green,
but way better
for Kicking
the
dust
up…
instead of laying the grass down!
It sits there waiting
Never complaining
Like a devoted little puppy
Do we really appreciate
What life would be like
Without this friend so trusty
We take it for granted
This mechanical friend
Never showing appreciation
We should let it know
How we cherish it so
Our sole means of transportation
There once was a time
In years gone by
Long before the automobile
We walked, we rode
A bike or a horse
Now just sit there at the wheel
So treat this friend
Like one of the family
You will never ever go wrong
Her engine will purr
Her tires will sing
A happy little motoring song!
© Jack Ellison 2012
She heard the screeching of the tires
And she knew she had pulled right in front of this car.
She shut her eyes, waiting for the crash.
Her next thought was her best friend.
It was her birthday.
I am dying on Marianne’s birthday! Crap!
The crash never came.
She looked to her right.
The sports car had left his tires all over the road.
Smoke was coming out from under his car.
She could not see the driver.
His windows were too darkly tinted.
She continued through the intersection.
This was her fifth car wreck where she expected to be dead.
Her heart was beating fast.
Just like the other times.
Why can’t I die? She asked God.
I deserved to.
But the answer is yet to come.
"The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don't go back to sleep." Rumi
Clouds like rippling waves
Cover the eastern horizon
A nice cool breeze chills the air
There the sound of dove's coos upon
A distance hill, rustles up deep emotions
That murder of crows are being warned
By their very intelligent lookout
He hears the sound of danger
Truck's tires crunch going on its route
The clouds become wider spread
Adding a tenebrous feel to the scene
Only a small bloodshot eye
Through the clouds is seen
Desiring to see a sunrise cast its beauty
Sweeping all around
There is one disappointment
But joy in the cooler air I've found
Thank you God for this morning
I love the time alone with You
I could spend so many more hours
Thinking, praying and singing too
"Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Those who love with their heart and soul, there is no such thing as separation." Rumi
Go out in the pouring rain
And get lost in an ocean of emotion
Serenaded by the patter of rain
People scurry to and fro so unprepared
Tires screech on blacktop
As drivers without sense make their way
Cats flee to the sanctuary of porches
And dogs find their dog houses
But somewhere dances a rain princess
Who has finally found a home
She twirls and she loses herself
Drenched in the rain
And somewhere watches a boy
Too afraid of the rain to join her
Even though he yearns to join her
He dares not venture into the rain
But maybe if he had the gall to do so
He could be her rain prince
The way of the world is cruel
A lesson taught best by rainy days
He asked her to be his acquaintance
she smiled and spoke of the words
he used.
he said to her if my camp again to win
you over is successful then these words
might help to define or redefine what
is needed in our relationship to help in
those times of creativity.
She smiled again, than if i'm seeking offers
from others do you think these words would
put you over?
In all fairness anyone who preseeds me might have
a greater chance of soothing you into a relationship
what lacks perfection is often spoken into doubt
yet the togetherness of obligation respoils the need
of being as one. You are a babbler she said. foolish
Undefine it sounds intelligent but once I sift through
the definitions it might crumble beneath my feet..
Must one toil when the task is to love and be love
that the other might be loved in return?
Moments and moments she said each
more special than the other, might than I'll understand?
Often called rumination or overthinking, the chore
of doing tires. Numbering the days ahead might leave
you lonely, she told him. He answered saying only,
what wonders the night, might the two wish each others
company.Scherzo a light playful smirk she smiled with
a glaring glee. You enjoy working against yourself.
Juxtaposition
--------------------
She went out of way to be different and noticed.
I loved her walk and the way she allowed herself noticed.
" That plain sleeveless spaghetti strap: why do so many
sexy women love hawaiian beaches. I meet a gorgeous Gal
on the shores of Oahu. I applauded the designers
as much as this lovely woman." The Wow's for a Pretty Woman.
Old man, old school
Young man, new rules
Self-taught all out, times bout to expire
Now the youth today look lup to themselves riding the streets with flat tires
They think they have the way
To make it on their no plans, yet they stand
Young man can't stand
The advice and wisdom of the elder man
Young man thinks he can
To do it all out the palm of his hands
Old man reminded of the plans
His children have had now they have their heads in their hands
Watching them, Washington, all the politicians
Four leaf Glover, Sesame Street and Grover
And inclined to the beings of time
Better take the advice and wisdom of the elder man
No time to sway, sag, brag or play,
Only time left is to pray
The youth are the elders of tomorrow but what about today
if they don't choose the right way
then all mankind tomorrow will lose, hey
Old man glances young man chances
The choice is yours I have the cure
Let loose speak the truths and don't let anyone tell you after
Young man still thinks he can
I'm incline to believe in the righteous ways
The advice and wisdom of the elder man
08/20/15
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
from submitted entry "UNO Poetry to Bridge Generations Elder & Youth 2015"
I have loved him since I was young.
Through every cloud, he rose the sun.
His work was honest – one-on-one with land.
I loved this farmer and his callused hands!
Safe, strong arms would lift me to sit upon his tractor.
Picture boy and Grandpa - no memory could be happier.
Today, I took the inherited watch from my mantle.
Now the cherished timepiece accompanies my flight,
perhaps lending faith to my emotional plight.
Precious ticking in my pocket comforts my destination;
brings forth his presence and I will not try to stop it
for the watch soothes my driving desperation.
Steering, my feelings begin actively conceiving
wings in golden display soaring my car this day
thru prayer-filled air to timely see me there.
So many endless miles of thunder under my wheels.
Thoughts ever somber tumble various appeals.
I gasp down feelings he may leave before I show.
He stays in my heart’s eye while I consume highway
on burning, dedicated tires determined to fly
'cause Grandma phoned to say, Grandpa would soon die.
Spring is sprung.
Clouds of maple.
Skies of pine.
Red in green.
Serviceberry understory.
Spring is sprung.
Skunk cabbage spathe.
Black birch sap.
Poplar flowers.
Opossum tires.
Spring is sprung.
Blackbird wing.
Wasps won’t sting.
My father died.
Town meeting Monday.
Spring is sprung.
Sing cuccu!
There’s no down side.
Infinite willow.
Leaning oak.
Spring is sprung.
Budding flame.
Budding thumb.
Cat claw.
Bird yolk.
Spring is sprung.
Dandelion
Shoots. Arrowhead
Roots. Waterproof
Boots. Old bed young.
Spring is sprung.
Ring and wrong.
Thank and thought.
Seed and sawn.
Wait and walk.
Spring is sprung.
Grandpa's tractor coughs, sputters and comes alive, acrid smoke sharpening my senses... gears engaged, lurches forward, disturbing clouds of fungus midges bursting in the sun from the damp clumps of weeds near the barn.
Anise Hyssop, wild spires along the barn, fill the air with licorice smells as the rear wheels brush by.
Proceeding to the field, the tractor hiccups over clumps of soil, jarring memories of Grandpa's firm grip around my waist, riding along, teaching me secrets of the earth...
...a cycle finished, Grandma brought out to the field at lunchtime, a covered basket filled with cold chicken, potato salad, creamed cucumbers and half a fresh berry pie, lovingly prepared the day before, sharing smiles and my excited recollections of the morning...
...another couple hours and Grandpa tires a bit, so we ramble back to the barn, spying Grandma unclipping laundry from the clothesline, softly singing beautiful hymns of praise.
A Blessed Day, Indeed..