Accident

This is a little poem I wrote recently. I was in the car with my Dad and he was trying to get us somewhere on time. He was driving a little too fast, and our little rental car didn't seem like it would hold well if we crashed. Needless to say I spent the entire car ride thinking about what would happen if we got in an accident. Accident. Isn't it a lovely word? On one hand it is a car crash and on the other it is an unfortunate mishap. Anyway, this poem has a 3 syllable title, then alternates six and nine syllable stanzas. Each stanza gets longer by one line. It was an interesting format I made up for this little poem.

Accident
My father is angry.

Our compact car rattles in the wind;
I feel the metal stripping away.

The petal to the floor;
Zooming down the highway,
Cutting all the corners.

I see the cars before us approach,
Yet my father does not hesitate:
He swerves our car never dropping speed;
Always eighty miles per hour.

I cling to anything—
Whatever is at hand:
Water bottle, cell phone;
My heart slows, my breath held,
My gaze fixed straight ahead.

I think about if I would feel pain,
If my head through the windshield would hurt,
If I would hear the crunch and the screams,
Or if my ears would ring with silence;
I imagine the dislocation,
The pain of the seatbelt on my chest.

Heavy metal on me,
My legs are immobile,
My gaze still fixed ahead,
I feel nothing at all,
I taste blood in my mouth;
I wait for the impact,
But it never arrives.

Duality - A year later

So it has been a year since I last posted a poem on this little gem. I guess you could say life got in the way. I have only recently returned to poetry--its short yet simple expression embracing me once again. ((I guess I have become more artsy too?)) Anyway. This poem is more based around syllables and rhythm than a specific idea.

Duality
The rain falls silently in the busy city:
Dripping, soaking, darkening the masses' spirits.
Ominous clouds over head on a sunny day;
Waiting for the rainbow to cover the sky.
No end is in sight; no beginning to recall.

A glint, a glimmer, a reflection of the sky:
The mirror of the soul, the eye of the likeness,
Never looking past the outside of the structure.
We are trapped inside by our fears and our regrets;
Looking out at the structures's reflective surface.

We see ourselves, we see the rain: falling, crashing.
Wishing and waiting for the sun to reappear;
Hope brought by a double rainbow is redemption,
And nothing to do but simply wait.
The rain falls silently in here; the dark clouds loom.