Creative Writing About Cars
model_citizen
01-11-2009, 09:35 PM
I just finished a poem and would have loved someplace to post it on here for people to read, but I just didn't know where to go. You need a place for things like this:
Feel But Don't Touch
The white line as I cornered around the sharpest hairpen turns;
That was what I saw as I imagined the drive.
The rubber being left behind on the pavement as it burns;
That was the scent that lingered behind.
The roar of the exhaust and the whine of the gearbox telling me to shift;
That was what I heard as I accelerated.
The science pushing me into the seatback and the downforce of lift:
Forces I had not time to comprehend.
The dry thirst for more exhileration was a taste I craved,
Noticable only by the cracks in my lips,
As they puckered at each and every press of the clutch.
The turns sharpened so I tighten my grip.
These were the feelings aroused inside as I entered the pits.
I had gained a pass and wanted to explore.
The closer I came to the infinite power of horses,
Was a step closer to a disappointing tour.
On every gleaming coat of paint partitioned from me by a chain,
Were signs that read "Do Not Touch" in plain print.
The words were simply stated and quite clear,
But I knew exactly what those words meant.
My eyes lit up not from the roar of engines or red tach lights,
But instead from the camera flashes behind each line,
That kept me from my dream just behind the wheel.
It was then that I knew the dream wasn't mine.
*G* model_citizen 2008
Feel But Don't Touch
The white line as I cornered around the sharpest hairpen turns;
That was what I saw as I imagined the drive.
The rubber being left behind on the pavement as it burns;
That was the scent that lingered behind.
The roar of the exhaust and the whine of the gearbox telling me to shift;
That was what I heard as I accelerated.
The science pushing me into the seatback and the downforce of lift:
Forces I had not time to comprehend.
The dry thirst for more exhileration was a taste I craved,
Noticable only by the cracks in my lips,
As they puckered at each and every press of the clutch.
The turns sharpened so I tighten my grip.
These were the feelings aroused inside as I entered the pits.
I had gained a pass and wanted to explore.
The closer I came to the infinite power of horses,
Was a step closer to a disappointing tour.
On every gleaming coat of paint partitioned from me by a chain,
Were signs that read "Do Not Touch" in plain print.
The words were simply stated and quite clear,
But I knew exactly what those words meant.
My eyes lit up not from the roar of engines or red tach lights,
But instead from the camera flashes behind each line,
That kept me from my dream just behind the wheel.
It was then that I knew the dream wasn't mine.
*G* model_citizen 2008
mhilez
10-05-2009, 07:52 AM
very nice poem,keep it up.
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