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Bill Lindsay Poem
And so they sat, this learned three
in full pursuit of liberty,
the turkey, eagle and the dove
looked down upon them from above.
The declaration almost writ
they rubbed their chins a little bit;
looked heavenward, and there espied
their feathered friends, as one they cried:
The perfect symbol he would be
to represent our great country!
His visage shall our seal adorn
To celebrate our new land born!
But harmony became dissent
as three ways now their discourse went;
voicing long as they were able -
till three bird splats hit the table.
Silenced now, the conversation
at this triple defecation,
the trio must now make a pact:
clean up the table, and their act.
Full focused now, the case was laid
for each bird, compliments were paid,
pausing only, eyes a-goggle
at the turkey’s goofus gobble.
Despite their eloquential might
they could not make their choice take flight;
just as they made their virtues soar
another splat would hit the floor.
The birds, enjoying now this game
attempt to calibrate their aim;
to make their mark and thus complete
the declaration at their feet.
The Dove, descending from his perch
aghast at our trio’s besmirch;
peppering poop across their stage
like little stars across the page.
The turkey, not to be outdone
slicked back his crop and took a run;
with several rather clumsy wipes
he bathed the document with stripes.
The Eagle watched with some disdain
his adversaries stock now wane;
their lust for glory now long gone -
he knew he was the chosen one.
The Eagle may have won the day
his image is still used today;
but Dove and Turkey may still brag -
they made the stars and stripes your flag.
Copyright © Bill Lindsay | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Bill Lindsay Poem
It was many years ago now, before my wisdom teeth
had forced their way through my big mouth, they were still underneath.
I had an awesome job within the motor industry;
not building them, but selling: an ‘Executive’, was me.
We had more than one franchise and we covered quite a range,
no matter what your budget there were deals I could arrange,
I longed to sell expensive cars - each morning without fail,
but my role was with the Ford range, at the bottom of the scale.
One day as I was watching my boss prepping a Ferrari
I strode across to see it and then jumping in the car, he
asked if I could help him and he handed me the keys
‘We’ll store it with the Fords tonight, but tell nobody, please.’
The truth was that his showroom was as full as it could be,
but he couldn’t leave it parked outside – and mine had spaces free.
‘We’ll slide it in this evening after all the staff have gone,
and take it out at 8am, it won’t take very long."
As darkness came we pushed the sliding door of glass aside,
and moved the Fords around to make a bit more room inside.
Trying not to make a sound, as careful as could be,
we shoehorned the Ferrari ‘twixt Fiesta and Capri.
Early the next morning we came in through the side door
to huge relief, sat splendidly amidst the Fords, we saw
the red Ferrari Boxer: ‘Would I get a chance to drive?’
"Yes, but let’s just get it out before the staff arrive!"
‘Start her up, I’ll get the keys for the big sliding door’
I was dribbling like a baby when I heard its thunder roar;
In the rear view mirror, my boss passed me with the keys
I saw blue sky, the sun was up, the roof was down, ‘Oh, please,
Allow me, God, this one big chance to drive this gorgeous car
this could be the highlight of my whole life - and by far.'
As I slid her into gear my dear heart began to sing,
the boss slipped into his office as the phone began to ring.
I revved her up and moved the mirror, yes; the sky was blue
and eased the clutch up slowly as the world came into view;
then, suddenly, a wall of sound and my heart missed a beat
and showers rained on the Ferrari, purring in the street.
My ears were ringing as I prayed this shower of rain to pass
but I wasn’t getting wet; which meant this shower was of glass!
The boss, keys still in hand as my foot firmly held the brake
popped his head around his door and did a classic double-take.
He shook his head as if to cast aside the grisly scene,
was I in Heaven or in hell, or somewhere in between?
The glass, still falling, peppered the new Boxer’s scarlet hood;
the boss, confused, still jingling the keys, transfixed, he stood.
My poor heart beating fit to burst as now the thunder waned
and I wondered how much more of my career now remained.
What seemed like hours passed before he slowly made his way
toward the dead Ferrari, ( forty grand’s worth, might I say )
He stood before me, looking at the car, the keys, the door,
he frowned, he smiled, he tapped his brow and then he frowned some more.
His mouth flew open and I waited for the curse to come
and though his fingers wagged, he now appeared to be dumb.
A few more seconds passed before a smile grew on his face
and I grinned inanely in the hope of saving me some grace.
I wound the window down, his mood had cooled - I had a hunch
‘They weren’t the right keys after all, I’d taken the wrong bunch’
'It’s not your fault, he quipped,' still kicking shards of glass aside,
'and how were you to know I hadn’t pulled the door aside?
It’s down to me, last night I hid the keys beneath the mat
and of all the things I’ve ever done - I wish I had done that!'
Epilogue:
We contacted the customer, explained that there had been a delay with the paperwork and delivered it a week later, after extensive and expensive repairs had been carried out. Some weeks later, however, the car was returned, completely burned out – the insurance company deciding that a foreign body had somehow entered into the wiring harness ...
Bill Lindsay
Written October 2015
For Trashed #3 Contest - Sponsor, Broken Wings.
Copyright © Bill Lindsay | Year Posted 2015
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