A simple cover that tells a tale
As old as time itself.
It gives a message loud and clear....
'Take me down from the shelf!'
The tiny silhouette reveals
A pig-tail pulling man!
And that word 'Xenophobia'
Has been said since time began.
*
(In the fifties, here in Australia,
There was an awful fear
That the Yellow Hoards would get us
If we ever let them near.
Yet now the Chinese are welcomed;
It's the Muslems who are viewed
With a certain amount of suspicion,
And their actions misconstrued.)
*
See the gun which demonstrates
That violence is involved!
As though a simple bullet
Can get any problem solved.
The lettering is wayward,
As though by thoughts disturbed,
And we are all reminded
That some instincts should be curbed.
*
In the days of the caveman,
When tribe fought tribe for food,
Anyone who was 'other'
Was considered to intrude.
But surely we've grown past that!
The world has grown so small,
That 'the other' lives next-door to us,
Or, maybe, down the hall.
This cover sends a message
That urges us to say
How foolish pig-tail-pulling is!
Read this book today!
*
----------------------------------------------------------------
THE TRIUMPH!
A car is a car is a car!
(Pinched from someone else's verse!)
To me they all look just the same,
Except, maybe, for a hearse!
When evolution formed my brain
It left an aching void,
Where recognising cars should be;
A fact I can't avoid!
I cannot tell a Chevrolet
From a Ford or a Toyota!
When car-spotting genes were once doled out
I missed out on my quota!
A Packard is a mystery.
Likewise with a De Soto!
They all look just alike, I fear,
Even in a photo!
They're all tin boxes set on wheels,
Zooming along the highway.
Why is it that all the rest of you
Don't seem to see them my way?
Malcolm, my husband, shades his eyes
To see a distant blur;
'Here comes Rosy Smith!' he says
And, sure enough, it's her!
And all he's seen in the distance
Is a vaguely car-like shape.
I find this so amazing
That I can only gape!
And it's not a male or female thing,
I've friends who make that clear.
In the car-park they see Maudie's car,
And say ' Maudie's already here!'
I don't even recall the colours,
The shapes are a mystery!
As for badges and things like that,
They're all the same to me.
Take number-plates. Now there's a thought;
It's easy to memorise them.
Except that I'm number-challenged
And I just can't recognise them!
There's one car that I recognise
And it's not the one I drive
( I'm not exactly sure of that!
Does the number end in five?)
Malcolm has a hobby-car;
He treats it like a toy,
A session in the garage
Is his very greatest joy.
He's tinkering and revving
And working up a sweat,
And, though it looks a picture,
He hasn't finished yet!
I'm called-out to admire it
And coo over it's design.
I'm beginning to recognise it!
So that's a hopeful sign.
I recognise it! A Triumph,
From nineteen-sixty-three!
It's certainly a Triumph
For poor car-challenged me!
*
A car is a car is a car!
(Pinched from someone else's verse!)
To me they all look just the same,
Except, maybe, for a hearse!
When evolution formed my brain
It left an aching void,
Where recognising cars should be;
A fact I can't avoid!
I cannot tell a Chevrolet
From a Ford or a Toyota!
When car-spotting genes were once doled out
I missed out on my quota!
A Packard is a mystery.
Likewise with a De Soto!
They all look just alike, I fear,
Even in a photo!
They're all tin boxes set on wheels,
Zooming along the highway.
Why is it that all the rest of you
Don't seem to see them my way?
Malcolm, my husband, shades his eyes
To see a distant blur;
'Here comes Rosy Smith!' he says
And, sure enough, it's her!
And all he's seen in the distance
Is a vaguely car-like shape.
I find this so amazing
That I can only gape!
And it's not a male or female thing,
I've friends who make that clear.
In the car-park they see Maudie's car,
And say ' Maudie's already here!'
I don't even recall the colours,
The shapes are a mystery!
As for badges and things like that,
They're all the same to me.
Take number-plates. Now there's a thought;
It's easy to memorise them.
Except that I'm number-challenged
And I just can't recognise them!
There's one car that I recognise
And it's not the one I drive
( I'm not exactly sure of that!
Does the number end in five?)
Malcolm has a hobby-car;
He treats it like a toy,
A session in the garage
Is his very greatest joy.
He's tinkering and revving
And working up a sweat,
And, though it looks a picture,
He hasn't finished yet!
I'm called-out to admire it
And coo over it's design.
I'm beginning to recognise it!
So that's a hopeful sign.
I recognise it! A Triumph,
From nineteen-sixty-three!
It's certainly a Triumph
For poor car-challenged me!
*
2 comments:
Very thoughtful, thought-provoking and eclectic posting of poetry. And, if you are going to recognize only one car, the Triumph is not a bad place to start.
Darryl and Ruth : )
A book cover and your marvelous message! Here in the Northeast USA, NYC particularly, peaple of Asian descent live everywhere nearby! thanks for participating in Fascinating Book Covers." :)
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