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Poet's Corner

Christy L. Klahn

"Ode to my Olds"

Chugging and glugging,
She's way past empty.
Poor old thing isn't riding on fumes,
She's choking on them.
At this rate, she'll end up in the car tombs!

About 1,000 miles ago,
I made a mental note that the oil change
Was a couple hundred miles past due.
Oops! I just went the wrong way,
And I think that was a tire I just blew.

She seats six, but she's barely
Holding me because of all the trash
And dirty dishes and laundry in here.
I was a designated driver the other night,
And the frat boys made her smell like beer!

The strawberry-scented, tree-looking thingy
That hangs from my rear-view mirror
Now smells like stale gum,
And the year from my hanging graduation tassel
Fell off when I about hit an old, dirty bum.

She's not quite a humptymobile
Because I haven't put in really huge speakers
That would completely fill up my trunk,
But she cruises smoothly like
The Titanic before it hit the iceberg and sunk.

She might only have one blinker
And be missing a hubcap because the stupid
Pep Boy guys didn't have the right key for my wheel lock,
But she certainly gets me from there to here,
And I do love her a whole lot!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Heart Over Mind"

The emotions and feelings of the heart
Overpower the keenness of the mind.
Often, without realizing the part,
To his own emotion, man is inclined.

Anger rushes forth from instant demand.
Hope always flickers while one is living.
Love and hate are always found hand in hand;
Though one is stronger, both must be giving.

Then man, after acting without a thought,
Does scold himself for being so heart-strong,
And wishes the former moment bought
To replace the words that he feels were wrong.

But mankind shall forever have this plight,
So long as the heart does give the soul flight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Emotions"

Emotions emotions.
They flood in...
They flow back.
Embarrassment turning my cheeks crimson.
Anger clenches my fists.
My nails make crescent moon blood marks on my palms.
A tear rolls down my flushed cheek.
Not even unclenching my fists,
I quickly wipe the weakness away.
A clown catches my eye.
He's being stupid, and it's refreshing.
My fingers drop.
A smile splits the plaster.
A saline drop adds flavor to my tongue.
I forget for an instant to wipe it away.
But you come again,
And so does negativity.
I want to slap your perfect face,
But hateful self-control plays with my mind.
So you laugh and dance
That trickish dance of yours.
I fall back among the shadows.
Exhaustion now...
And I fall to the floor in a heap.
I scream out long and hard
I hold my legs to my chest
While rocking,
Rocking.
Carelessness with the torrents of rain
Playing on the cracked plaster.
When I was little,
The plaster was smooth
And pale
And beautiful!
But that's when I was little.
You were little too.
And we were thin and wiry.
So now that the thin's gone,
You're sleek.
Not like a cat though,
Because cats are worthy animals.
Sleek like a paper cutting through a finger.
Quick and painless at first,
But the lemon juice of life
Is your venom.
Seeping back in.
The occasional blow on that cut is...
Happiness.
Oh! But a kiss on the cut!
How grand!
Soft lips and cool moisture against it
Soothes the pain of it.
But the germs of that hopeful kiss
Infect.
And a bandaid of my skin is stretched
Thinly over it.
Scars, so many now from
Pulling my skin so taunt that
My soul can be seen through its permeable state.
These scars made by you and you and...
YOU.
Because there wasn't enough skin to cover the first cut
On the lid of my Pandora's Box.
Hope first leaked out.
The rest of the emotions are still there,
But pain is the key to the lid,
And that key is worn down from constant use.