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
Poetry, prose, and other stuff meant for the reader's enjoyment. Web page at: Click here. My novels are White Lightning, The Carbon Steel Caress, In Good Faith, and Mudbug Tales; A Novel in Flashes, wit' recipes. My poetry book is A Southern Boy's Meanderings. CLICKY My webpage:
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
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
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
Sunday, December 13, 2009
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
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
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Off to see...
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
Friday, December 4, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Gettin' the Job Done
TOOLS
By GC SMITH
Tools, one needs good ones in the workshop
but no less they are must haves for the kitchen
one can’t make a table without saws and hammers
or good knives and pots and pans for a pasta-fazoole
Nothing compares to my kitchen knives
Wusthof brand of finest Soligen steel
they make short work of cooking tasks
slicing, dicing, paring, chopping, carving
Then there are my Lodge cast iron pots
and sauté pans first class all clad stainless
a great big stewpot for making yummy stuff
and odd and end pots and pans for this and that
Me I live with tools for all my work
woodworking stuff for building projects
U.S and metric tools for my boat and truck
and kitchen tools that I cannot live without
In the wood shop measure twice, cut once
in the garage lay out parts most carefully
in the kitchen toss in spices by the fistful
but always make sure you have the tools you need
By GC SMITH
Tools, one needs good ones in the workshop
but no less they are must haves for the kitchen
one can’t make a table without saws and hammers
or good knives and pots and pans for a pasta-fazoole
Nothing compares to my kitchen knives
Wusthof brand of finest Soligen steel
they make short work of cooking tasks
slicing, dicing, paring, chopping, carving
Then there are my Lodge cast iron pots
and sauté pans first class all clad stainless
a great big stewpot for making yummy stuff
and odd and end pots and pans for this and that
Me I live with tools for all my work
woodworking stuff for building projects
U.S and metric tools for my boat and truck
and kitchen tools that I cannot live without
In the wood shop measure twice, cut once
in the garage lay out parts most carefully
in the kitchen toss in spices by the fistful
but always make sure you have the tools you need
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Of Time and Tide
Someday, When Day is Done
By GC SMITH
Pour the good whiskey,
tap a barrel of beer,
lay out a spread of
baked meats and breads
Shove my box in a corner,
dance on until dawn;
know I'm doing fine
as I wander the cosmos
Listen to old boy's stories
and tell some of your own;
there no baloney to make up
'cause we did it together
Relax dear and enjoy
this gathering of folk
here ‘cause they're friends
who came for a last word
I've lived me a full life
but now day is done,
don't give way to sadness
remember all that we had
The kids that we raised,
the houses that we built
the time spent together
both at work and at play
Take out our sea skiff
and scatter my ashes
in the estuarine marshes
that I loved so much
I've lived and I've loved.
I've enjoyed every day.
so please go on forward,
just remember our fun
By GC SMITH
Pour the good whiskey,
tap a barrel of beer,
lay out a spread of
baked meats and breads
Shove my box in a corner,
dance on until dawn;
know I'm doing fine
as I wander the cosmos
Listen to old boy's stories
and tell some of your own;
there no baloney to make up
'cause we did it together
Relax dear and enjoy
this gathering of folk
here ‘cause they're friends
who came for a last word
I've lived me a full life
but now day is done,
don't give way to sadness
remember all that we had
The kids that we raised,
the houses that we built
the time spent together
both at work and at play
Take out our sea skiff
and scatter my ashes
in the estuarine marshes
that I loved so much
I've lived and I've loved.
I've enjoyed every day.
so please go on forward,
just remember our fun
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