Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson


April 14, 2009 - NaPoWriMo - Day 14

I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month, where the goal is to write one poem a day for 30 days. During the month of April, I will be using the writing prompts at ReadWritePoem.org and posting the results.

Day fourteen prompt (road trip)

Care to take a road trip? The concept for today’s poem is to write about cars and driving, although of course you might really be writing about something else.

Do you ever see a face in the grill of a car? Or do the brake lights of a car ahead look like an alien’s blinking stare? Think of the animated movie Cars that came out a few years ago. If you were a car, what kind would you be? A Rolls Royce? A Saab? What about a 1970 Cadillac convertible? You could write a love poem between two cars, or go on a road trip. Think of a specific highway, the kind of car you’d drive, who would be in the passenger seat, the places you’d see along the way. Maybe you’d like to write a political poem about cars and the environment, or cars and the economy. Whatever fuels your imagination.

Now, buckle up and write a poem!


Rainy Day Car Scenes

A girl with a cream-colored hat
pulls it over her ears. Swoosh-
swoosh of wipers. The woman
at the bus stop
who talks to herself, today wears
a turquoise poncho. As I roll
down these streets, under gray
skies, tail lights glow like jewels.

Cars with no headlights blend
into the charcoal road. A trolley clangs
as all directions stop. All these metal
boxes full of patient
and impatient people. On good days,
driving is like a dance, gliding
to a Vienna Waltz, or twirling
in a fierce Paso Doble. On
country roads, a square dance,
do-si-do your partner at
the four-way stop.

                                        Sometimes,
we're just lined up at rehearsal
barres, waiting for the music,
stretching. Noticing how rain drops
take on taillight color, like little
ruby chips. Or glancing at a motorcycle
cutting between stopped cars.
Or a man with his umbrella turned
inside-out, like a broken
flower. Sometimes I feel like
that SUV with "wash me"
written in finger oil, the dust
already wiped clean by rain.

 

I actually dictated this into my Sony Digital Voice Recorder while driving around on errands this afternoon. Then I came home, transcribed it, broke it into lines, and tweaked it a bit.

Moral:
We spend a lot of time, in cars, not thinking about being in a car.

Copyright 2009 by Alyce Wilson

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