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Mellifluous Mobility...

Mellifluous murmmerings
slightly echoing tones
rolling down the valley
but barely heard

Undercover shushing
with over the land phones
showing what to see
from the eye of the bird

Nice wired wheels, whispering
sparkling in the sun
Fat tires white walls
black rubber tread

Damned fine day, to go traveling
I'm not the only one
who's got balls
in his head

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
Don't know what came over me. This is what came out when I said the word mellifluous!
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Nice tribute to our mother nature (please correct me if I am wrong as this goes a bit over my head)
I like the M&M in the title as it sounds mellifluous!

I especially struggled with the closing lines but maybe it's only I, let's see what others think.
Always great to learn from the masters
Thank you for sharing.


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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it is about looking down the valley. [I live on the hill, overlooking the valley], I see the beautiful colors of the Autumn leaves
sparkling in the sun and remember my father and I taking the Salmon colored Buick Riviera with wire-wheels for a ride.
We used to go out every other Sunday, for dinner and to just roam around. [My father being a paraplegic in a wheelchair, couldn't drive anymore]. My father was a cantankerous old man and hard to get along with. Everyone in the family said, I had balls to take him out. I told them that I just kept my mouth shut and didn't say much, except to agree with him; but in my head, I was cursing him out! Still, there were some good days, when he was okay and pensive. I think he was thinking about how his life might have been different, if he wasn't an alcoholic and had two good legs. ~ Geezer.

Writing purely for oneself, is the ultimate in defensive posture.

author comment

for the clarifications.


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram

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