Poetry Madness: Diary Of A Mad Poet

Careful Things by Randy Hall

Poetry Madness:  Diary Of A Mad Poet

Sometimes you just wake up mad. Most call it “Waking up on the wrong side of the bed” and when those days happen, we usually just stick our middle fingers up at the world and say “I don’t give a fuck”. There is usually no cheering us up on those days; everything around us becomes our enemy and we just act in a rotten mood. This type of “madness” known as our anger, attitude, and meanness also has its place in poetry. It’s an emotion that triggers the heart and mind to release some words.  Below is a poem written by Randy Hall in response to this Flexwriters Of Poetry Challenge Posted on April 11^th 2011

Careful Things by Randy Hall

It wasnt its fault it was a Honda motorcycle
any more than it’s my fault that I’m American
Like me it was once new and smooth-shiny even
but time is relentless in burning and re shaping
Unlike me it couldn’t get angry, it would just quit
vacum lock or something mysterious like that
and start when it was ready – not when I’m ready

We were riding down a freeway one cold morning
when it decided it didn’t want to do this anymore
I had places to go, things to do, I wanted to do this
I am the human being, I am in control – MIND ME!
I kicked it in the muffler and the muffler responded
by falling off— I kicked it some more and yelled
angrily testing its metal with boot and wry curse

That stubborn Honda decided it wouldn’t start
and I would teach it a lesson in minding manners
the muffler was cool enough to pick up and swing
WHAP! BANG! CLANG! CRASH! KRINKLE!
And I would learn a lesson in human humility
all the drivers passing by laughing and honking
as I commited motorcide in the emergency lane

I left it there on the side of the road – abandoned
broken and dishevled, a stubborn mule beaten
to death, a victim of my ignorance and anger
And I would miss it in the coming years, the speed,
the wind, the thrum of its engine, its companionship
It taught ME humility and how to walk again, to care
even for the things that — care for us- IF we care for them

Tags: Flexwriters, Poetry, Randy Hall

This entry was posted on September 30, 2011 at 1:43 am and is filed under Featured Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.