Short Motorist Poems

Texting whilst driving
Should not be a crime
I've got me a truck
That stops on a dime
I steer with my knees
Now isn't that cool?
Good God Almighty
Just look at that fool
Driving straight at me
And  texting away
We're going to crash
And ruin my day
Hold on a second
Life just isn't fair!
I'm ending this text
On a wing and a prayer . . . ....

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The darkness shatters with an array of color.  Brilliant
reds, oranges and yellows reaching out of the torches to
lick the blackness off the trees.  Animals running to 
escape searing messages from people who have since
hidden away.  Another few thousand acres destroyed
because the dried Autumn leaves were used as an
ashtray for a passing motorist....

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In life,

Avarice,

In the rise,

Even for a plate of rice!

A poor to rich,

A rich to more rich,

To enrich,

A walker to cyclist,

A cyclist to motorist,

To enlist,

Avarice,

In the rise,

Taking the Sky up wise,

In a home of some souls,

One to hold all,

In a soil of whole,

One to hold all,

Avarice in the rise like the night mice,

Over the trees where crows portion their,their piece,

Robbing Peters should not be the case!...

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Dame’s Rockets grow atop her grave:
Pinks, whites and purples flourish here
in this cemetery enclave
where no one has visit in years.
Her oblique, weatherworn headstone
stands aside a nearby roadside
hidden amid weeds, unbeknown
to motorist who pass where she lies.
An effortful deciphering
failed to clarify her birth year
Born April first [obscured] in spring
Died forgotten this much is clear
except for these fragrant bouquets
that perfume above her grave today....

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