Woodillac

My shed is equipped with tools and power,

My secret, personal hickory tower.

I’m there more than unconscious in bed,

Creating with my hands is my mental bread.

Converting branches into spatulas and spoons,

Stumps into chairs with inlays of moons.

I listen to the wood, it tells me what to do,

Or at least gives me an opaque, grainy clue.

Sometimes simple, like a spatula from birch,

Or a bit harder, an oaken observatory perch.

This last project, though, it got me confused,

When racking my brain, I think it got bruised.

A car you can drive? Excuse me P. O. Wood?

Shouldn’t it be metal? I think it should.

But it couldn’t hurt, and I like the work,

Now I have a car but I’m going berserk.

I have to decide on how to name the bloody thing.

Woodillac? R.M.S. Teak-tanic. The Oax-wing?

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Shy car

I saw a car when cycling today,

It was just standing, not blocking my way.

When I got closer, I heard it growl,

Closer and closer, it grew to a howl.

After I passed it, the growl grew fainter.

I thought it was due to its shyness restrainter.

It might be broken, which made the car shy,

And me coming closer just caused it to cry.

I was amused for an hour or two,

I cracked the case, happy like a ewe.

My friend, when I told her of this,

Started to smile at what was amiss.

“Maybe, just maybe, because it’s a car,

It didn’t growl fainter when you were still far.

Maybe it kept its growl quite flat,

And you heard it different. How about that?

You went closer and the sound got louder,

Because of sound waves working like clam chowder.

The closer you are, the thicker they come,

If you go away, you’re bound to lose some.

In the near future, would you please

Check if the ground’s shaking or just your sneeze.

Lionel hammer’s mane

My friend had a dream about a lion with bats stuck in its mane.

 

One day Lionel Hammer woke with bats in his mane.

The way they screeched and fluttered almost drove him insane.

He tried shaking his head up and down to some rock,

The bats held on, a very tenacious flock.

Lionel took a shower to try to slipper them up.

Did the bats have bat snorkels? Yuppety yup yup.

He even took a bath and submerged his head,

Bat scuba gear you guessed? Here’s the prize, go ahead.

Lionel got furious and flourished his mane,

Howled and ran as fast as a train.

He raced so swiftly that the bats almost fried,

But they wore a friction protection suit for the ride.

Finally Lionel the lion had had enough,

He saw his neighbor and went “Huff huff.

Hey Ken, can I borrow your convertible?”

Ken the Kangaroo is always very sensible.

He saw the bats and knew Lionel’s plan,

“Sure, here’s the key. Good luck my good man.”

Lionel sat in the car and put the top down.

Revved up the engine and roared with a frown.

He got on the road and sped up to six and ought.

The bats faced the speed and curled up in their cot.

Lionel sped more and more until he broke the limit.

The bats couldn’t take it at two miles per minute.

If you have a case of bats, just take a ride.

Let the wind sort it up, let velocity provide.