A doctor is just like a good mechanic but unless your body is broken down, there's no need to panic. Avoid unnecessary trips to a dealership, some diagnostic tests are only a rip. Be an advocate for your own health. You'll save some bucks and add to your wealth. Pay attention to fluids as they hold the key to maintaining the body's integrity. Strive to keep the engine clean, avoid dust and debris and eat mostly green. When feeling sluggish and unable to accelerate, replace those spark plugs, don't just wait. You want the blood to flow free, roto-rooter those arteries. Keep a constant awareness of your gait and just like tires, routinely rotate. Try to maintain an even tread with both your feet until your dead. At 30,60,90, come in for a test but don't tell the doc your mileage, just let him guess.
Must you mileage chalk up in free verse speed way
For Kim Patrice Nunez*, with hope
Must you mileage chalk up in free verse speed way
Let your wheels skid by letting loose grip on wheel
Free verse range’s for marksmen trained on rondolet*
Dipodic foot pantun villanelle dactyl
Cut their teeth on the slippery run-on-line
Roll their anaepest tongue round limerick rhyme
Do not a ballad begin with aubade fine
Nor drive straight past end-stopped line’s feminine rhyme
Such as painters’ coprophilia canvasses
Hide chance ironic hidden ghostly faces
Cubist abstract surrealist morasses
Whose apprenticeships lead to trumping aces
Far too many poets love the sound of words
Yet shirk bardic tasks speeding on twisted roads
* Nunez: Sorry, no tilde over the “n” on my Mac.
• rondolet: French pronunciation rhymes with “way”.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Where do you go
In the bumper starlight splashed
Pressed upon time with parking fines
What do you see
On your endless concrete journey
Carving out carcass of shopping spree
What happens now
When the gas lines drought
And distance becomes an issue
Will you charge off by feet
Will you occupy the space you screech
What happens when the road is cut?
There's a room where the
dead are sent.....
a room between heaven
and anarchy.
the room assigned to the living
has a higher power known as the
"SELECTOR"
The Selector assigns those who have died
to a room that connects them to one single
living person.
it's the experience and wisdom of the dead which are
assigned to us.
they are told to view our lives
our words
our movements.
They are our coughs sneezes,we are unable to yawn.
the day dream the long afternoon sleep
the feeling that you have been there before.
The thought of seeing you again fills me with dread
I know the day will come; it’s inevitable
Mileage on my heart, feels like a worn out retread
Recycled emotions are undesirable
I know the day will come; it’s inevitable
My spirits sink at the mere mention of your name
Recycled emotions are undesirable
There was once a time your face set my heart aflame
My spirits sink at the mere mention of your name
What happened to those days? You were my special man
There was once a time your face set my heart aflame
This point we’ve reached was surely not in our game plan
What happened to those days? You were my special man
Our spring turned to winter faster than I could blink
This point we’ve reached was surely not in our game plan
Stop the world, let me off; I’m standing on the brink
Our spring turned to winter faster than I could blink
Mileage on my heart, feels like a worn out retread
Stop the world, let me off; I’m standing on the brink
The thought of seeing you again fills me with dread
By Carolyn Devonshire
For Paula Swanson’s “Pantoum” contest
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