Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click hereHi guys. I find writing poetry is like a person getting up and slowly stretching their muscles after being inactive. It makes the body come alive.
The mental stretching for the mind is, for me, the effect of writing poetry. Normally it "warms up" my brain and leaves me refreshed and ready to get back to the novels I hear calling for me to finish them.
Sadly, the dozens of poems I've written over the years are scattered on the numerous hard drives of a dozen desk tops and laptops. Or possibly secreted away in the little boxes of "treasures" by lovely recipients over the decades; given as presents for birthdays, valentines or other special occasions. One can only hope.
Most of the hard drives no longer exist. They either seized up, were wiped, lost or stolen, or went to the big computer re-cycling heaven; lost forever in the mists of time and memory.
Here is one I wrote about facing an on-coming birthday.
LS
BIRTHDAY TURN
What does one do with a faithful old vehicle?
That continues to strain and stride
Even as it grinds and grunts with each lunge
Getting slower and slower.
The body is rusting, corrosion set in,
Metal fatigue striking and seizing the engine itself
The gaskets, seals and hoses perishing in full sight
Brakes not even necessary for the pace is slight.
The first turn was full of fun and energy
Unlimited energy, memory reminds
But awkward and embarrassing
Learning to control the wheel.
Second turn, the miles flew by
Strength and knowledge and achievements galore
Quick-sand bogging down the chassis
The weight of life filling the seats to overflowing.
Curiosity sent the beast off-road
Clearly it was never intended for such a task
The trail grew wild and faint
A new garage required for the mud covered frame.
Third turn preparation came to naught
Road trip plans shelved as parts were scarce and breaking
Pedal to the metal didn't occur as desired
What is happening to my favourite vehicle?
Forth turn upon me, no drifting required
Finally the road is straight, the horizon beckons
Cruising two up in my favourite vehicle, speed no longer a priority
Heat, air and gas abounds, being all we want heading into the sunset.
Life is good.