You asked me for a poem today.
I raised the roof of my skull
like the hood of a jalopy,
I replaced the sparkplugs and
Revved my six cylinders, smoking
Choking an unbreathable cloud,
My tarnished shroud.
You asked me for a poem today,
And here I am full of meager
Moments where I once savored
Modest madness. Where I neglected
Love and paid up with hungry longing,
All my regrets for reckless crimes.
You ask me for a poem today.
Just one day, a poem!
But all poems are made somewhere in the stars,
Carrying ships of perfumes and refracted prisms,
They know no start or end,
They violate all clocks and calendars.
I won’t know when the words stop flowing.
You might catch it if they do.
Categories:
sparkplugs, imagery, inspiration, muse, poetry,
Form: Free verse
This engine needs a little tune-up
And the oil doesn't flow so well
The battery's probably low on juice
Check the sparkplugs -- Who can tell?
These wheels have covered a lot of ground
Over two-hundred thousand miles
And now that the frame's started to fall apart
~ All that works right is my smile
Categories:
sparkplugs, car, care, smile,
Form: Personification