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Posts Tagged ‘car’

JUNIOR PROM

Junior Prom night, so long ago . . .
Me and my beau
Ribbons and tie
Both of us shy

My first dance gown, heavenly blue
His suit was new
Rosebuds and lace
A blushing face

A borrowed car with top rolled down
Long drive to town
Full moon, bright gold
His hand to hold

A wish upon a falling star . . .
Luck from afar
Night of romance
Thrills from a glance

Two young lovers, a lovely sight
Dancing all night
Part of the past
That went so fast

2/20/90 Phyllis DeWitt -VanVleck

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Tonight is prom night for some of our local schools and, while I wrote this poem about a birthday, it holds even more truth for prom night.  Be safe out there and don’t drink and drive.  No mother ever wants to get that call from the police.

 

     WHY ME, MOM

 

It was his birthday party.

They were first to arrive.

He told his girl he’d promised Mom

He would not drink and drive.

 

So soda was their drink of choice

Just that, and nothing more

And when the party ended

They headed for the door.

 

They climbed into his old blue car

And watched his friends depart.

He noticed some were staggering,

Bringing fear to his sad heart.

 

“I’m glad I listened to you, Mom.”

He whispered ‘neath his breath,

Because my friends are drunk tonight,

And could be facing death.”

 

“I kept my promise to you, Mom.”

He spoke aloud with pride.

Then drove away to meet his fate,

His girlfriend at his side.

 

Then sometime later, on a curve,

He saw a drunken friend.

They met head-on in violence,

Just slightly ‘round the bend.

 

Near the crash, upon the ground,

The injured totaled five.

Someone heard him whisper, “Mom,

I did not drink and drive.”

 

His blood now stains the highway red,

And in his labored breath,

The lad called to his Mother,

That ‘twas HE who now faced death.

 

“Oh, Mom, why am I lying here

In such horrendous pain,

As blood flows freely from my wounds

And mixes with the rain?”

 

“My drunken friend is walking ‘round.

I can’t help wonder why?

And now he’s looking down at me,

Too drunk to even cry.”

  

“Oh no, dear God, it cannot be!

I just heard someone say,

‘This boy is hurt so badly,

He won’t see light of day’!”

 

“Why is it me that dies, Mom?

I’m not the one to blame.

I was not drunken at the wheel,

A good friend wears that shame.”

 

“Come quickly, Mom, I need you,

To kiss before I die.

I kept my promise to you, Mom.

Yet this is my goodbye.”

 

“Write on my stone, Here Lies a boy

Taken in his prime,

By the thoughtless act of a good friend,

Drunk driving just one time.

 

2/27/97       Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

 

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    CHRISTMAS PAST

 

If I could journey back in time

To Christmas of my past,

I’d gather up the happiness

And hold it very fast.

 

We didn’t have a lot back then,

But we were unaware

That others had more than us,

For we had much to share.

 

Each Christmas was a busy time

With many things to do,

And I look back in fondness,

Remembering just a few:

 

Making stars and paper chains

To compliment our tree,

Checking out our window panes

For frost etched tracery,

 

Hanging bread and suet balls

On branches that were bare,

Watching snowflakes coat the trees

As birds sought shelter there,

 

Running out,, all bundled up,

Enjoying winter’s gifts,

Snow-angels made by each of us,

And sliding down big drifts.

 

We’d all go in, after fun,

And have a special treat –

Hot cocoa near the old wood stove,

While warming hands and feet.

 

Beautiful carols filled the air,

Prompting us to sing.

There were gifts in colored tissue,

Tied with cotton string.

 

Mama’s words as she kissed us

And hugged us very tight,

“You’ve all been such good children,

Santa will come tonight.”

 

Then snuggling down under quilts,

Listening for Santa’s sleigh,

And drifting off in dream-filled sleep

‘Til early Christmas day.

 

Awaking to threadbare stockings,

Stirring children’s joy …

Filled with oranges, candy, and nuts,

And a small ten-cent toy.

 

Under the tree, for Sis and I,

Were dolls that Mama dressed.

Each piece of clothing sewn by hand,

Then each piece neatly pressed.

 

Big brother received a nice game

And strings for his guitar.

Little brother got marbles

And a cast iron car.

 

We could ask for no improvement

Of such heart-warming joy,

For we were more than satisfied

With candy and a toy.

 

If I could paint such memories

To help make them last,

I’d view them with a little smile

Each time that I walked past.

 

 

12/18/89      Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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ed-phy-w-by-carThis is a photo of my brother, Edward (on the left) and myself, the girl on the right.   This poem is very close to the true story  of his NOT teaching me how to drive. 

 
WHY I NEVER LEARNED TO DRIVE
(And Probably Never Will)

I never learned to drive a car
And often wondered why
No one took the time to teach
This girl, once young and shy

Could it be that awful story
My brother used to tell
About the day he tried to teach . . .
Comparing it to Hell

First I hit the chicken coop
With quite a thunderous clap
And both of us then ended up
With chickens in our lap

While fighting clouds of feathers
I backed into a tree
I didn’t do much damage then
But Ed was mad at me

And then I hit the garden fence
In panic, as I slid
I just said, “They never should
Have put it where they did”

In backing up I spun the tires
And spumes of dust arose
Then as I freed the tires, I braked
And poor Ed bumped his nose

The cow was watching all that time
With look of such surprise
Until I almost hit her rump
Then terror filled her eyes

Ed jerked the wheel just in time
By now, his eyes were wide
As I drove onto the hilltop
And down the other side

Ed jammed his foot onto the brake
And stopped upon a dime
For traffic on the highway there
Was busy at that time

He told me to get out, right then
And walk back up the hill
While he mopped his bloody nose
And spoke with such a chill

He never took me out again
And it made me rather sad
Because no one else would either . . .
But I think the cow was glad

Phyllis VanVleck . . . 9/25/01

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