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Literature Text
Driving home, just after sunset;
my eyes on the road,
but my mind in retrospect.
Jim Croce is singing on the radio;
words I've heard a thousand times
but they don't feel timeworn in the least.
It takes me back, moves me to the right,
and I can hear him make the engine roar.
It wasn't much; just an old Jeep;
with four wheel drive
and vinyl bucket seats.
Jim Croce singing on the radio,
and I crooning words I didn't know
with childish confidence.
Grinning in old sunglasses
while Dad made the engine roar.
Driving away, just after sunset;
my eyes looking in the rear view mirror.
my eyes on the road,
but my mind in retrospect.
Jim Croce is singing on the radio;
words I've heard a thousand times
but they don't feel timeworn in the least.
It takes me back, moves me to the right,
and I can hear him make the engine roar.
It wasn't much; just an old Jeep;
with four wheel drive
and vinyl bucket seats.
Jim Croce singing on the radio,
and I crooning words I didn't know
with childish confidence.
Grinning in old sunglasses
while Dad made the engine roar.
Driving away, just after sunset;
my eyes looking in the rear view mirror.
Literature
Who Am I - Blingie
Who am I?
I am a person. A brother. A son. A friend.
I like pasta. I go to school. I get good grades.
I go into town. I hang out. I want to get a job.
I like watching TV, playing video games, reading.
I don't like swimming, skateboarding or public speaking.
I get sick. I like to sleep in. I'm terrible at exams.
I support my friends. They support me.
I can be happy. Sad. Excited. Bored.
I like renting movies and eating pizzas on a Friday night.
I play piano. I watch Monty Python.
I spill things on my shirt. I have a weird taste in music.
Gay is not who I am. It does not define my personality.
Gay is not what I am. It does not chan
Literature
As If
If you can hold your drink when all about you
are losing theirs and aiming it at you,
if you can drive your car when all men doubt you,
but make allowance for the coppers too;
or need to pee but not be tired by waiting,
or after peeing don’t forget your flies;
on politics or football start debating
and yet don’t look too good nor talk too wise.
If you can drink and not make drink your master;
if you can talk – and not make sense your aim;
if you can still stand up although you’re plastered
and shout at passing women dirty names;
if you can bear to hear the truth tomorrow
of how you acted like a total fool
and
Literature
The Fuguist
Jonah hated Mars. He hated everything about it. Every minute he spent there he was plagued by a vague feeling of unrest: Mars was not quite foreign, not quite familiar, an endless mirage or coma dream. Maybe he was dead, and maybe this was purgatory. Sometimes he considered praying at night, asking for forgiveness, just in case, for whatever sin might have banished him there, but then he looked out over the barren, forsaken wasteland and thought his time was much better spent sleeping, or walking.
But he hated how soft the ground was, how little clouds of dust exploded under his soles with every step, and how he could turn around and see his
Suggested Collections
This is a piece which has special significance to me due to the subject matter it encompasses. The basic idea for this poem came to me a while ago when I was driving home from work a couple weeks ago. "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" by Jim Croce came on my radio, and I couldn't help but think about all the times I had driven around with my father as a child listening to that same song. Those memories are very special to me, as even though I see/talk to my Dad every day, there is something about driving around in his old Jeep that I cannot define, and I luckily cannot forget.
The Preview picture is one that my father took in 1986 shortly after he purchased the Jeep. The picture quality isn't great, but that can be blamed on this picture hanging on the garage wall for a decade.
-gh
The Preview picture is one that my father took in 1986 shortly after he purchased the Jeep. The picture quality isn't great, but that can be blamed on this picture hanging on the garage wall for a decade.
-gh
© 2007 - 2024 ghbatt
Comments82
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How sweet. 