“I’m locked out of my sports car,” said Lee
to a cop while he stood helplessly.
“Man, your ragtop is DOWN,”
said the cop with a frown.
“Just reach in there and pull out your key!”
July 2, 2019 for
Tania Kitchin's Humorous Limerick Poetry Contest
Syllables per line: 9/9/6/6/9
Highway One California
Lovely and so cooling, was driving my
1956 Chevy Bel-Aire ragtop!
Its whitewall tires, its heavenly hubcaps.
Just stunningly gleaming!
That magnificent red and white convertible!
With joys, so profoundly thrilling!
June 2, 2019
7pm PST
_____
Dedicated to my parents, who gave me this
car on my birthday. Thanks, Mom and Dad for
letting me "Drive My Dream!"
A lmost always late (unless it’s for a movie);
N ight owl though I am, I love the sun.
D imples when I smile; to dance or drive a ragtop are two things I find groovy.
R ational and “real,” I tell it like it is to everyone.
E xuberant at carnivals or joking with someone;
A ware of all my flaws, and one of them is having too much fun!
D iligent and dedicated - words that well describe me.
I n things I love to do, I give my all.
E nglish is my forte. I’ve taught since 1983.
T hankfulness I feel, though now at 56, my bones could use an overhaul!
R egret I rarely feel. Most things I do - I know I’d do again.
I ntolerance, injustice and ignorance I hate to see.
C onscientious since a child I’ve always been.
H appy, kind, forgiving, and easy-going. Now you know more about me.
Written by Andrea Dietrich
for kristen bruni's contest:
"Love Me Why?"
My old love’s gone, and now a new love’s here
although with that old love she can’t compete!
She’s silver smooth from front - to tiny rear;
More practical than my old love, yet sweet!
And like my old love, she is always near.
She’s not as sporty, but she’s just as fleet.
And though I miss my honey “ragtop” girl,
I take my new love “Kia” for a whirl!
For The Ottava Rima Contest by Jared Pickett
Theme: New Love
Her dark hair, laced with silver strands,
cascaded once with sable glint,
then lost (with drifting of the sands
of time) the chasteness of its tint.
It still grows long, but she has kept
her dark hair laced with silver strands
pulled back, attractively upswept,
at times enwrapped in stylish bands.
She misses days of few demands,
the ragtop down, her locks wind-tossed.
Her dark hair laced with silver strands
reminds her now of all she's lost. . .
She combs it out in dying light
of dusk and dreams a lover's hands
were touching it this moon-streaked night -
her dark hair, laced with silver strands.
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