Hot Rod

Reads: 478  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This was a piece that I wrote for a school assignment. It includes descriptive language and a central event.

Submitted: November 01, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 01, 2012

A A A

A A A


I touch cold metal;

Candy apple red paint,

Strikes from a skilled hand.

I touch hot exhaust;

Stacks for fuel injection,

Hidden go-fast goodies beneath.

I touch wide rubber;

Still warm from racing.

Hoosiers and CalTracs keep it straight.

I hear engines roar;

Gate to quarter mile,

Running full throttle or nothing.

I hear crowds scream;

Two cars line up,

Staging burnouts for better traction.

I hear my heart;

Pounding beneath the pressure,

Green light go, hit first hard,

Second and third come too fast, miss my shift,

My world, lost, as I blow-up my Hot Rod.


© Copyright 2019 Over Red. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: