Poetry competition CLOSED 29th May 2017 6:24am
WINNER
Anonymous
Anonymous
RUNNERS-UP:
RevolutionAL
and Gahddess_Worship
Road Trip
http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f248/jadepandora/wild_flowers_and_lava_mts%20nm__by_sharphotography%2000.png
HITCH HIKE
She walks by the edge of a road that winds
Through low hills on either side, carpeted
With dappled wild flowers, thinning as they
Begin to spoil and die from spring's riot.
The heat of day is tempered aloft by
Cotton ball clouds, a still-life vista of
Impressionism, giving respite to
The hitch hiker who turns to face the sound
That approaches in the thin breathless air,
Of an old junkyard pickup skidding on
Gravel and creaks as it idles, waiting.
In a rocking motion the door hinge pops,
Swinging wide; a rusting invitation.
A black Labrador drops low to the floor,
Its yellow eyes glare, its tail wags slowly.
A shadowy figure of the driver
Sharply barks a pitched command 'Cutter, GIT!'.
Alert, without hesitation, the dog
Jumps behind the seat not making a sound.
The young woman squints behind her Ray-bans,
Too wary to chance it alone, afoot.
She thinks 'I'm a white girl, he's got a dog.
He's bound to protect me when it gets dark.'
Assured by her thoughts she pulls herself in.
The engine growls & roars, the tires spin,
Sending the beast barreling down the road
Toward the horizon as the driver howls.
She leans out the window, hanging on tight,
The dog 'neath her arm, her hair stretched back tight
Off her ears and neck, flowing into the
Face of the Labrador's hitch hiker's head.
His ears and tongue warp in the dry fierce gale
Of speed cutting rapidly through the fringe
Blurred vision's flight to the intangible,
Comes the night of an unwise decision.
And over the horizon of earth's curve,
They all disappear just before the girl...
Image: south New Mexico by Sharphotography
HITCH HIKE
She walks by the edge of a road that winds
Through low hills on either side, carpeted
With dappled wild flowers, thinning as they
Begin to spoil and die from spring's riot.
The heat of day is tempered aloft by
Cotton ball clouds, a still-life vista of
Impressionism, giving respite to
The hitch hiker who turns to face the sound
That approaches in the thin breathless air,
Of an old junkyard pickup skidding on
Gravel and creaks as it idles, waiting.
In a rocking motion the door hinge pops,
Swinging wide; a rusting invitation.
A black Labrador drops low to the floor,
Its yellow eyes glare, its tail wags slowly.
A shadowy figure of the driver
Sharply barks a pitched command 'Cutter, GIT!'.
Alert, without hesitation, the dog
Jumps behind the seat not making a sound.
The young woman squints behind her Ray-bans,
Too wary to chance it alone, afoot.
She thinks 'I'm a white girl, he's got a dog.
He's bound to protect me when it gets dark.'
Assured by her thoughts she pulls herself in.
The engine growls & roars, the tires spin,
Sending the beast barreling down the road
Toward the horizon as the driver howls.
She leans out the window, hanging on tight,
The dog 'neath her arm, her hair stretched back tight
Off her ears and neck, flowing into the
Face of the Labrador's hitch hiker's head.
His ears and tongue warp in the dry fierce gale
Of speed cutting rapidly through the fringe
Blurred vision's flight to the intangible,
Comes the night of an unwise decision.
And over the horizon of earth's curve,
They all disappear just before the girl...
Image: south New Mexico by Sharphotography
Anonymous
he said; love is for fools, and he ain't no fool
He was a rare breed, a lethal combination of scientist and litterateur
with an air of arrogance challenging the emotional equilibrium of
everything understood.
The question hung, motionless beneath the thick humid air
before I realized the answer had rolled from my tongue
brushing against my teeth with a hiss. Yes!
There was no other mono syllable which shucked the world with
possibilities like a fresh oyster offering a salty kiss.
The car was packed with sleeping bags, a cooler full of beer
a ceramic blue hookah; ashes crusted around the rings.
He reeked of cheap booze and a weeks' old sweat
the scent of women he had bedded, smelling like rubber:
burned, acrid, pungent; with miles of dust around his neck.
The Overseas Hwy was narrow and old, abridging islands
like pearls on a string. We cruised carelessly to warm winds
the gigantic sun: a centerpiece.
Drinking whiskey, singing off key to Waits' Yesterday is here.
My mind adrift, my body squiffed, I tossed my bare feet on his knees.
He pretended not to care, with weight of the world in his absent stare.
We reached Stark Island by midnight pulled by the bank and watched
ghosts of Mangroves oscillate with the breeze, swooned with secrets
buried deep.
The hookah lit, we sat side by side plumes of sweet apple tobacco
flirted with the sapphire night.
'Do you think the wetlands can shelter one more secret
from a thief?'
I searched his face in the smokescreen the only clue was a smirk,
escaping from his sunburned lips.
I knew I would fall in love and wear his bitterness on my skin;
he was everything I despised from The High Lands to Florida Keys.
He was a rare breed, a lethal combination of scientist and litterateur
with an air of arrogance challenging the emotional equilibrium of
everything understood.
The question hung, motionless beneath the thick humid air
before I realized the answer had rolled from my tongue
brushing against my teeth with a hiss. Yes!
There was no other mono syllable which shucked the world with
possibilities like a fresh oyster offering a salty kiss.
The car was packed with sleeping bags, a cooler full of beer
a ceramic blue hookah; ashes crusted around the rings.
He reeked of cheap booze and a weeks' old sweat
the scent of women he had bedded, smelling like rubber:
burned, acrid, pungent; with miles of dust around his neck.
The Overseas Hwy was narrow and old, abridging islands
like pearls on a string. We cruised carelessly to warm winds
the gigantic sun: a centerpiece.
Drinking whiskey, singing off key to Waits' Yesterday is here.
My mind adrift, my body squiffed, I tossed my bare feet on his knees.
He pretended not to care, with weight of the world in his absent stare.
We reached Stark Island by midnight pulled by the bank and watched
ghosts of Mangroves oscillate with the breeze, swooned with secrets
buried deep.
The hookah lit, we sat side by side plumes of sweet apple tobacco
flirted with the sapphire night.
'Do you think the wetlands can shelter one more secret
from a thief?'
I searched his face in the smokescreen the only clue was a smirk,
escaping from his sunburned lips.
I knew I would fall in love and wear his bitterness on my skin;
he was everything I despised from The High Lands to Florida Keys.
Driven By Distraction
En route
Santander to Bilbao
three happy amigos
grateful for the car ride
vintage Citroën DS purrs
mejor que montar en autobús
that ashtray on wheels
where thick gray smoke obscures
sign reading “No Fumar”
posted adjacent del conductor
cigarette dangling from his lips
Lush green paisaje cantabriana
racing into view
window frame by window frame
a la izquierda playa tras playa
adorned, no doubt, with bikini clad
hermosas españolas
pangs of California yearning
beckoning come home
sólo un segundo de tristeza
by Spanish paradise captivated anew
Outskirts of Bilbao arriving
“have you seen euskara written?”
asks the man behind the wheel
“just count the letters on that sign”
soon to be ironic fifteen character name
a Basque towing company
occupants turn to look
CRASH!!! language lesson over
old Citroën metal punishes
brand new Citroën metal
dazed humans emerge unscathed
ensuing epithetic volley
needs no translation
Back on the road relieved
sturdy French carriage
dented not defeated
comme une danseuse de cancan
gusty wind lifts the hood (bonnet for some)
driver in literal blind panic
soothed by level headed passenger
steers to safety
thoughts of imminent death abate
love for Spain, though strong
does not extend to lying under its soil
En route
Bilbao to Santander
wondering if bus windows open
(Unattributed image found at http://4travel.jp/travelogue/10500614)
HAPPY WHERE I AM
Happy where I am
Sitting still and looking out
While the world moved fast backwards
With a smile, I am glad
To leave them all behind
Happy where I am
Sitting still but not stagnant
While the world moved fast backwards
Steadily, I move forward
To a future far beyond
Happy where I am
Sitting still while riding
While the world moved fast backwards
The wind blows away my hair, sorrows and pain
Wherever my journey takes me...
I will be,
Happy where I am
©All Rights Reserved
@OxyDup2016
Written by OxyMoronicMe
(G.L.)
Go To Page
http://i1036.photobucket.com/albums/a450/geoff_collins2/233739_zpsuovqginq.jpg
CROSSROADS
(a broken sonnet)
her face appears, in dashboard cellphone ring
these silly dreams I've had from days before,
I know "ain't no thing but a chicken wing"
the miles from her to me and nothing more.
"went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees..."
my "delta blues" Pandora station set
with Clapton wailing Robert Johnson's tune,
400 miles of Highway 5 regret,
of my escape and not a day too soon
"went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees..."
my car is clocking 90 miles per,
the crazy speed and road and guitar sound,
to kill my virus brain in music's blur
with all of this, I won't be "sinking down"
"asked the Lord above for mercy, save me if you please."
To L.A. Woman, Mojo Risin's charm,
I seek my way into her lovin' arms.
CROSSROADS
(a broken sonnet)
her face appears, in dashboard cellphone ring
these silly dreams I've had from days before,
I know "ain't no thing but a chicken wing"
the miles from her to me and nothing more.
"went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees..."
my "delta blues" Pandora station set
with Clapton wailing Robert Johnson's tune,
400 miles of Highway 5 regret,
of my escape and not a day too soon
"went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees..."
my car is clocking 90 miles per,
the crazy speed and road and guitar sound,
to kill my virus brain in music's blur
with all of this, I won't be "sinking down"
"asked the Lord above for mercy, save me if you please."
To L.A. Woman, Mojo Risin's charm,
I seek my way into her lovin' arms.
http://i1036.photobucket.com/albums/a450/geoff_collins2/ff3db7a3-fbbf-4859-ac50-2099e3945984_zpspyybnu5t.jpg
40 Miles Out of Gallop
(A Modern Sonnet)
"a friend of mine said I should write a poem about a picture I took on a trip to see my family last summer. I titled the picture - Rain in the High Desert, 40 Miles East of Gallop, New Mexico... so I titled the poem - 40 Miles Out of Gallop. And it goes something like this..."
One hundred miles since I hung-up the phone,
Her echoed voice still whispers in my ear.
And me, between my once and future homes,
With only rain and truckers left out here.
She’s been with me through every twisted turn,
It's only storm and desert with me now.
My love for her adds speed to my return,
As every love song croons her name somehow.
With darkling sky, like night has had its way,
In flashes, lighting captures desert’s face.
But west horizon’s edge still holds the day
In fading shrines to Sixty-Six’s grace.
I race the forty miles still left to go,
Rain and night, to Gallop, New Mexico.
40 Miles Out of Gallop
(A Modern Sonnet)
"a friend of mine said I should write a poem about a picture I took on a trip to see my family last summer. I titled the picture - Rain in the High Desert, 40 Miles East of Gallop, New Mexico... so I titled the poem - 40 Miles Out of Gallop. And it goes something like this..."
One hundred miles since I hung-up the phone,
Her echoed voice still whispers in my ear.
And me, between my once and future homes,
With only rain and truckers left out here.
She’s been with me through every twisted turn,
It's only storm and desert with me now.
My love for her adds speed to my return,
As every love song croons her name somehow.
With darkling sky, like night has had its way,
In flashes, lighting captures desert’s face.
But west horizon’s edge still holds the day
In fading shrines to Sixty-Six’s grace.
I race the forty miles still left to go,
Rain and night, to Gallop, New Mexico.
Well-wishers always
look you in the eye
when
you see them at your
stops:
gas stations,
diners,
country stores with souvenirs.
In that glimpse you can see them for what they are.
Fellow passengers on this
road of life,
but there’s something
sedentary
about them.
You know the road
intimately.
You sup on asphalt——to them it’s only an acquaintance.
Its curves are more familiar
to you than the woman
in your bed.
The midnight serpent sparkles
in a way, the stars
could only dream.
Every passing mile
marker waves you on, cheering…
smiling its green smile.
Exit, ¾ of a mile.
For food.
Or a restroom, or even a warm bed,
but always only temporary.
The road,
she awaits,
she beckons you.
She is your one true love,
you'll always return to her.
look you in the eye
when
you see them at your
stops:
gas stations,
diners,
country stores with souvenirs.
In that glimpse you can see them for what they are.
Fellow passengers on this
road of life,
but there’s something
sedentary
about them.
You know the road
intimately.
You sup on asphalt——to them it’s only an acquaintance.
Its curves are more familiar
to you than the woman
in your bed.
The midnight serpent sparkles
in a way, the stars
could only dream.
Every passing mile
marker waves you on, cheering…
smiling its green smile.
Exit, ¾ of a mile.
For food.
Or a restroom, or even a warm bed,
but always only temporary.
The road,
she awaits,
she beckons you.
She is your one true love,
you'll always return to her.
When the Sun is Rising
It was two in the morning,
Cars and trucks were flipped on their side,
Then our too tires began to slide,
We were in the aftermath of a snow storm.
But our little niece reassured us we weren’t going to die…
By then everything was down to a crawl,
Temperatures dipped to who knows how low,
Lights from emergency vehicles were everywhere,
So we took our time driving carefully and really s l o w
But at that rate we lost about four hours,
In the next town there was more snow and sleet,
And yet the locals drove around like whatever,
It was my first time driving in snow that deep.
By the time we got out to the open desert,
The skies were clear and the air was cold,
The road was straight and into the distance,
And for almost a full day we just rolled.
We had driven at night so our babies could sleep,
So that during the day they would enjoy the scene,
It was family trip and it was our first,
But I was hopped up on sugar and caffeine.
After the family gathering we ventured up to the mountains,
To capture picturesque stunning landscapes and sights,
But with twelve people in a van the drive in the snow is no joke,
Up narrow roads and steep drops as I drove quietly in fright.
And coming down the mountain was just worse.
But on the way back home we took a different route,
Why drive and strive to find out what the suspense is?
So we went a longer way out, through a small dark road,
Through a little town called Truth and Consequences.
And the drive through the desert at night,
It’s quite the sight especially when the sun is rising,
The colors and hues make for stunning views,
The simple things in creation we found mesmerizing.
But what I enjoyed most about that long drive,
Were the conversations we had in whatever they were,
The stories grandma told about days of old,
The cherished moments we got to share with her.
My road trip was more than an adventure or a destination,
It was the quality time spent becoming closer as a family,
Making memories that last forever, wherever we went,
As long as we did it together, excited and happily.
It was two in the morning,
Cars and trucks were flipped on their side,
Then our too tires began to slide,
We were in the aftermath of a snow storm.
But our little niece reassured us we weren’t going to die…
By then everything was down to a crawl,
Temperatures dipped to who knows how low,
Lights from emergency vehicles were everywhere,
So we took our time driving carefully and really s l o w
But at that rate we lost about four hours,
In the next town there was more snow and sleet,
And yet the locals drove around like whatever,
It was my first time driving in snow that deep.
By the time we got out to the open desert,
The skies were clear and the air was cold,
The road was straight and into the distance,
And for almost a full day we just rolled.
We had driven at night so our babies could sleep,
So that during the day they would enjoy the scene,
It was family trip and it was our first,
But I was hopped up on sugar and caffeine.
After the family gathering we ventured up to the mountains,
To capture picturesque stunning landscapes and sights,
But with twelve people in a van the drive in the snow is no joke,
Up narrow roads and steep drops as I drove quietly in fright.
And coming down the mountain was just worse.
But on the way back home we took a different route,
Why drive and strive to find out what the suspense is?
So we went a longer way out, through a small dark road,
Through a little town called Truth and Consequences.
And the drive through the desert at night,
It’s quite the sight especially when the sun is rising,
The colors and hues make for stunning views,
The simple things in creation we found mesmerizing.
But what I enjoyed most about that long drive,
Were the conversations we had in whatever they were,
The stories grandma told about days of old,
The cherished moments we got to share with her.
My road trip was more than an adventure or a destination,
It was the quality time spent becoming closer as a family,
Making memories that last forever, wherever we went,
As long as we did it together, excited and happily.
