Wildguzzi.com
General Category => General Discussion => Topic started by: normzone on April 17, 2015, 03:57:30 PM
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Alright...wise guy that I think myself to be, I thought I would see if I could get away with developing an epic poem about Moto Guzzis here on the forum.
Then, I thought, why not encourage others to do the same? Open it to all the traditional forms and free verse as well, with the only requirement that it be about a Guzzi, or Geeze. Uncredited pieces will be assumed to be work of the author.
THEN, it occurred to me, what if I'm not the first loon to think like this? So I searched the forum - not deeply, I admit, but it looked safe to proceed.
And only then did google lead me to " Moto Guzzi outside the Tate " by Peter Holmes.
Moto Guzzi outside the Tate
Oh glistening awesome motor stallion
your dovetailed bars, the windscreen’s sheen
you are indeed a work of art
each time I mount your leather saddle
your growling maelstrom comes to meet
your parody of love and travel
lest not to trust the judge’s gavel
thus speed the seed the heavens open
red as lust and sunshine clear
shine the night the organ’s treble
ring the changes speedy devil
stills God’s palate, rest the roar
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" The Shop "
She's in the shop for tires today - they asked about the driveline -
There's alway something they don't like - it happens almost every time.
I had her in for shocks last year - " Don't know about that motor ".
Today it was the pulsing brakes - probably a rotor.
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" The Bassa "
The Bassa has it’s plasti-chrome
Attached by clips and dingles.
The bike is sold with matching sets -
One falls off, leaving singles.
The rider then might turn around,
and by the roadside, search the ground.
It’s been runover, or not found -
I heard a funny crunching sound.
I'm sorry guys, I really am. I'm sure this will pass before too long, and if not there's probably some medication that will help with it.
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there once was a man named paluzzi
who rode round the world on his Guzzi
when he came to the end
he said to his friend
I can't wait to get in the Jacuzzi
don't ask about the man from Lk Como
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Back around 1987 or thereabouts I took a creative writing class - I thought I had it in me to be a novelist, with an eye towards science fiction.
I soon learned that was more work than I was cut out for, but along the way I learned a little about editing, which is now why I get paid for, among other things, pounding a keyboard. Thanks be to Glenda K. Richter, who raised the bar and pushed me over it.
In her class, among all the other bases we were required to touch, was assorted screenwriting, playwrighting and poetry benchmarks we had to touch. The class was a prerequisite for the poetry class, and some of us were only there to cover the prereq so they could move on to what they wanted to do.
Just as in my first photography class there was a girl who was only there because this was a prereq for the Criminal Justice series - Her nickname was "Crime Lab", 'cause that's where she wanted to work. She was fascinated by all the crime solving analytical tools.
So in this writing class we were periodically required to create a poem in various styles. I turned in one assignment with a poem about being stuck in a false neutral, sitting at a light, on my Eldorado, trying to find the proper gear. I forced the rhythm to fit the form, and I got shot down for my efforts. Too bad I no longer have the poem, because anybody who rides Guzzi could appreciate it, regardless of form or scansion.
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I once found an Italian Guzzi website that had a lot of poems about Guzzis. It may be here, but I will look elsewhere. this site is in English; http://www.coseguzzistiche.it/home.php?lang=en
Tom