Another writing excercise
Well, here's the latest in my string of new poems. This was actually a combination of two writing exercises. I wanted to write a sonnet, but I also decided to make it about a garbage truck, an excercise my brother suggested to me some time ago.
Collections
A rumble and a grumble as the light
First brushes past the roofs and through the yards
It trundles down the road, its headlamps bright.
A tarnished metal pail 'waits its regard.
The rust-marred cab, with paint as chipped and torn
As summer's blacktop after winter's ice,
it pulls a rig so battered and careworn
it seems half broken, yet it will suffice
To gather up the refuse of the street,
Till every alley's empty, corner's clear,
Of cans and wrappers, plastic and lost sheets
from torn newspapers, grey and stained with beer.
A thousand bags a day its riders see
But at your stop they're only taking three.
Collections
A rumble and a grumble as the light
First brushes past the roofs and through the yards
It trundles down the road, its headlamps bright.
A tarnished metal pail 'waits its regard.
The rust-marred cab, with paint as chipped and torn
As summer's blacktop after winter's ice,
it pulls a rig so battered and careworn
it seems half broken, yet it will suffice
To gather up the refuse of the street,
Till every alley's empty, corner's clear,
Of cans and wrappers, plastic and lost sheets
from torn newspapers, grey and stained with beer.
A thousand bags a day its riders see
But at your stop they're only taking three.