Short Thunderbirds Poems

Child 2432
Mincemeat rabbit
JR7 4ST
Woodwork
Thunderbirds....

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The street is full of aimless passers,
Individually strategizing how life would be worth lived,
Thunderbirds then come to peck on delicious fruitful trees,
Having no idea about how it got yielded,
We kept wearing ourselves with those anxieties of life embedded, 
Couldn't quench our thirst with the pure fountain,
So knowledge in the authors book was stolen from our captain,
Due to the reason of being comprehensive to a mind....

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Grasp for the clutch, 
(clutching on automatic
chances)
clench my jaw –
am I clutch? 
no luck.

I gasp! (gassed) 
the gas-tank tanked.
Tired I try,
but floppy tires
blunder
like a drove
of drunken thunderbirds.

“Gear up guy! Get some get-go!”
I exhaust, idle 
and stammer,
grass spattered,
paint chips scattered,
brakes broke
and steering hammered -

destination
is going,
rear-view gone.

Turn my wheels (or my keys, at least).
Just don’t give me a brake....

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The furniture was rearranged,
to make sure there was space,
and suddenly the radiogram,
had moved to second place.

Now we would have Thunderbirds,
Star Trek and man on the moon,
Tomorrow’s World had landed,
right there in the living room.

And no-one in the family,
could really disagree,
with the magic or excitement,
of our black and white TV.

There was a note of caution though,
when mum to our surprise,
said, “don’t complain to me,
if you end up with square eyes…”.
...

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