Thursday, July 1, 2010

Jalopy



Jalopy
poem By James E. Magyary

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Fourth of July unfolds,

run up a pole,

freed in a flap.



The sun promenades

along its dazzling archway.

This dirt backroad scrawls

through a torn nowhere.



Flair!

cracks the air,

salutations gunned

from a reddened engine,

white smoke shot

towards royal-blue sky.



Backseat bouncing and side

to side rocking

chatters me like a china

cup in the jitterbugged

hand. I'm

bone dice in her shaker;



she's Destiny with a lead foot.

Barreling around curves and bends,

changes and then straight-aways,

I plead "driver, driver-lady,

please keep your foot away from that brake."

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Above is one of my favorite all-time poems about a hair-raising ride on The Fourth of July. This is a mix of comedic delight, outstanding sonics and imaginative flair. Written by a very clever guy , whom I adore and admire so dearly, this graces my blogsite with style and poetry at its very best.