(Poem 341 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Gifts and necessities
fill every inch of the car
blending possessions
one step in the process
that is part and parcel of
two lives becoming one
from Texas to Canada
Michigan in between
mother’s heart rests easy
when she sees her boy
turned man open the car
door for his wife
and drive away
to start his new life
@Home Studio – 341st poem of the year
Runner ups for the Car Jenga photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 318 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
My dream car
was a 1971 Baby Blue
Volkswagen Beetle
with the engine in the back
and a bonnet for storage.
A Canadian guy named Dana
introduced me to his car
and I fell in love—
with the car,
not Dana.
Although, Dana was cute,
reminiscent of Bill
from Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure,
but was much too old
for me to have a crush
on because I was maybe twelve.
That handsome car,
however,
was a respectable fourteen,
and I was smitten.
I begged my father
to let me have one
when I turned sixteen,
but he broke my heart
and declared bugs
deathtraps,
forbidding me from ever
even riding in one.
My cousin,
the son of my father’s twin brother,
blood of my blood,
he got a bug,
my love forever unrequited.
@Home Studio – 318th poem of the year
(Poem 135 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Photographs taken by Rebekah J. Marshall 5/3/24
What in the world
kind of space-age
contraption is this?
Not found on a
movie set or at a
Comicon convention,
a float in a parade
or on display in a
futuristic museum.
No, just sitting pretty
in an HEB parking
lot like it’s waiting
for its alien pilot
to finish grocery
shopping and climb
back in before lifting
off to start the long
flight home to Venus.
@Home Studio – 135th poem of the year
rebekahjmarshall 