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The Car

The car 'stutters' its response to cold ignition,

hesitant and sleep heavy,

lurching into some sort of limp wakefulness,

but resistant to movement.

The driver mutters obscenities to the dash board,

cold breath full of impatience,

attacking the innocent air with impotent steam,

filling the car with sharp spite.

The passenger prays silently for a miracle,

then quietly speaking, gently coaxing,

well worn words of compliant encouragement to both-

car starts, driver glowers , passenger sighs .

 

◄ Empty

Beware the Flowers ►

Comments

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alan barlow

Fri 27th Mar 2009 01:43

i reaaly like the way i can relate to the car each day and the car almost takes on a human trait the way you have "penned" the piece and i enjoyed the ditty like ending of the last line too

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Jeff Dawson

Mon 9th Mar 2009 23:23

Hi Sian, some great lines here, nice one. Have read some of your others, really enjoyed. I'm just catching up with stuff and wanted to comment, best wishes Jeff X

<Deleted User> (5763)

Sun 1st Mar 2009 20:03

I love that '...innocent air with impotent steam'.
but come on, I bet you have let rip really loud just once -on your own?

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Noetic-fret!

Sun 1st Mar 2009 12:16

Hi sian, so many a metaphor can be applied to this. I must admit i did wish for more when i got to the end. But thats what makes the poem nice. And keeps me coming back to your work, hanging on the edge waiting for the next words.
Mike

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