Harris Tobias Hot Rod Race

Hot Rod Race 

by Harris Tobias 

I marveled at the beauty of a 1940 Ford
Customized and gleaming and lovingly restored
It left two streaks of rubber when the gas pedal was floored I wish I was on board 

The 57 Chevy was a beautiful machine
Chromed and painted like in some magazine
When the driver revved the engine he made 500 horses scream Like something from a dream 

Next on the line and snarling was a 1930’s Dodge
Beautifully refurbished in some high tech garage
She was bored and stroked and boosted and fully turbocharged With an engine overly large 

The smoke and noise was deafening as they waited for the flag This battle was the reason fans had come to see them drag There can only be one winner, only one team gets to brag
All other ego’s sag 

The starting line presented a tense and smokey scene Waiting for the starting lights to switch from red to green When suddenly the world became one overwhelming scream The sound was so extreme 

First off the line the custom Dodge grabbed an early lead The Ford and Chevy left behind but were gaining speed The three drivers might as well have been a separate breed From physics they were freed 

The souped up Ford and Chevy were gaining fast
The Dodge’s lead was crumbling, it was too good to last Then the Dodge’s engine gave a lurch and then a blast Two cars roared right past 

It looked as though the engine in the Dodge had thrown a rod You could call it rotten luck or perhaps an act of God
But in a high performance race a breakdown’s not so odd
The Dodge had blown its wad 

Now the race was between the Ford and Chevrolet
Neck and neck and side by side neither car was giving way
The Ford then with a mighty thrust filled the Chevy with dismay Close but no hooray 

For the Ford the race must have seemed a nasty joke
It was the Chevy by a whisker, so close that no one spoke It should have been the Dodge but its veeblefetzer broke Racing’s all luck and smoke 

Some say a race is won by a driver’s skill
Some say when a race is lost that it is God’s will But in this world of racing it’s simply kill or be killed The loser pays the bill 

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Laura Zucca-Scott

Grey Skies

A storm is brewing.

In my mind I see

a kaleidoscope of colors.

A sunrise burns fiercely

defying the merciless night.

 

I wish I could share with you

a moment in time

where the pain ends  

and life triumphs

with the brightest glow.

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Charlotte Ozment Debuts

Giving birth to a rough precision

Sometimes no matter how fast

I want my thoughts to fly

it just doesn’t seem the distance

between the moment of concept

and the transmission 

between hemispheres 

will ever be achieved.

I feel like I’m thinking through

assorted gravities,

my synapses ground to matter,

every signal stalling

in conundrums left out to dry.

I don’t want to wear down 

those same easy patterns, 

clusters directing energy via rote.

And what does logic have to do

with anything of worth?

Let me simply cogitate, release,

and allow my sparks 

to ignite your atmosphere 

in a brilliance blindingly abstract

and unprecise. Then, then we can share

the beginnings of a guess and clue.

 

Charlotte’s work has appeared in many unique publications such as “Aphelion”, “Bindweed“, “Five2One”, “Full of Crow”, “Gyroscope Review”, “Poetry Repairs“, “Postcard Poems and Prose Magazine”, “Scarlet Leaf Review”, “Star*Line”, “Vox Poetica” and “Wilderness House Review”.

 

 

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Dr. Ralph Monday

Evening  

 

I watch the Twilight Zone New Year’s Eve

marathon, the aliens disguised as humans,

the beautiful android women, the demonic

children.

 

They fill the TV space for us,

being human, to know that those

Tessla waves radiate out into the galaxy’s

center where from that same radius

mirrors the chill, habitable sounds

of our interior spaces, the

 

Jezebel’s heart who sits at the window, year in

& year out, mourning the snow where no tracks are

left by her lover, just a row of

pendulum swinging tongues

beyond the town where the beer-bellied

screen watchers sink back into

commercials &

 

I hear words grieving

the echoes, the

belated candles buried

within their mouths, for

 

space is dark, coldness between the

stars enormous. No working out of

complicated details can mute the

distances that cannot be closed.

 

Better for the Jezebel to robe in

rose hues for the party & after the

disattiring completed to dream of strange

things in her attic bed.

 

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Bobbie Troy

A Friend

(For Verna)

a friend

is someone who smiles

when you meet

who listens to your challenges

and triumphs

who gives willingly

and without demand

who leaves you feeling warmer

after a conversation

or a hug

or a kiss

a friend is someone

who is there

when you need them

and when you don’t

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Nancy Scott-McBride

IRONY

I chip my teeth on the things you say.

I bark my shins on the things you do.

I tear my heart on the things you feel.

I love you.

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Harris Tobias

Three Margaritas

I was wandering the streets of El Paso

Looking for somewhere to think

I was angry and hurt

She was a tease and a flirt

I decided I needed a drink

I spied a rundown cantina

Inside it was dingy and drab

I felt like a fool

As I pulled up a stool

The bartender asked what I’d have

A margarita I answered

It was her name and her fault

It was a bad time

So tequila and lime

Some Cointreau and plenty of salt

I just had my first margarita

I’m not sure it’s easing my pain

Maybe another

Will help me recover

And I’ll start feeling happy again

The bartender was a young woman

She pointed to my empty glass

I smiled she poured

While I casually ignored

Her perfectly beautiful ass

Another margarita I asked her

A little stronger this time

Sure thing she said mister

As she poured the heavenly mixture

Oh lovely tequila and lime

I drank my second margarita

I’m certain I’m feeling less pain

Maybe another

Will help me recover

And I’ll start feeling human again

By now I could feel my mood lifting

I was suddenly feeling less tense

Margarita I was sure

Was both the cause and the cure

By now it was making more sense

One more my dear girl I ordered

Your drinks have made me exalt

Please hold the lime and no Cointreau this time

And I’m sure I don’t need any more salt

Just pour me a shot of tequila

And leave the bottle right here

More sips of the nectar

And I’m sure to forget her

I’ve forgotten already, so there

I just had my third margarita

So by now I am feeling no pain

After three margaritas

I love all señoritas

And I am feeling my old self again

Some stories

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