Whizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!

Snow Driving
by GC SMITH

Slippin' not grippin'
doin' the deep snow glide
while cars come at you
in an out of control slide

Unless you have ABS
don't slam on the brakes
that'll worsen the slide
pump for a straight ride

They say steer into it
to counteract the slide
but that's durn old advice
for a rear wheel drive

Doin' the 360 dance
on the Pennsylvania Pike
more fun than a polka
provided you live

I remember way back
before stabilty control
snow driving was an art
surely lotsa fun

We'd slip, we'd slide
with the old man's car
and hope to get home
with the fenders intact

Sometimes we made it
with nary a scratch
somtimes we came home
with fenders detached

We'd suffer the wrath
of our Pater's fury
then go snow drivin' again
soon as we got the chance

'cause there's no fun like
a three sixty slide
on a narrow mountain road
with the car swinging wide

Adrenilin pumps
anticipatin' sore lumps
and bruises-contusions
when the spin is arrested

It's wild-it's wooley
the apex of fun
daring the odds
with a slip, slidin' run

But now that I'm mature
I'm down here in the south
safely esconsed
in my own warm house

Out there

Bafflegarb
by GC SMITH

A discombobulated aardvark
with a beaver felt wysiwyg
played on his whangdoodle
while patrons noshed
Weiner schnitzel

Background glockenspiel,
didgeridoos and labradoodle
wails brought forth
sniggers from skedaddlin'
Shih-tzus

Babushka babes bamboozled
bandicoots while
bassoonists played
collywobble riffs
to sombrero fallout

Shiver

It seemed so real
By GC SMITH

Who
could imagine
the anguished feeling
when upon first light
one comes to find that
the formally tight screw
is now
loose

Worse,
the box of drivers
slot, phillips, torex
was loaned
to the idiot brother-in-law
who tossed
and lost
them

But wait
sun peeks
from the east,
and I awake
to find
the nightmare
is chimera,
a mere fevre dream

Off to see...

The Yellow Brick Road
By GC SMITH

Seven decades
of
looking
hearing
seeing
reading
thinking
and still
I ain’t learned
a thing
except perhaps
that
I
have had
and
am still having
fun
on this great
ADVENTURE
life

Skinny Kid

Lightweight
By GC SMITH

At two hundred and twenty today
this unHogan Hulk knew another time
way back in the way back when
he wrestled at a paltry ninety-eight

Tough monkey that he was at fourteen
he practiced hard each and every day
and once a week eliminated all comers
except that damn hardened skinny senior

He never made it to interschool competition
the skinny bastard senior saw to that
but, still, he got a lot from trying
before he switched off to other things

Looking back some fifty seven years
it’s nigh impossible to recollect
that wiry freckled fourteen year old
taking on all comers at a lightweight ninety-eight

Published in wrestling poetry collection, editor Russ Bowden.