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Open Poetry #8
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The Bullet's Run ... (strap yourself in ... long but fast)
| Open Poetry #8 |
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The Bullet's Run ... (strap yourself in ... long but fast) |
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ma miller Senior Member
since 2000-07-11
Posts 806 |
THE BULLET'S RUN ... Massive gnarled twisting of stomach knots; Tighter and tighter 'til the wrenching starts. Look up and see the height of structure built; Tubular steel track racing upwards to the clouds. Meandering line of humanity, waiting to convulse; Seeking thrill and excitement never before had. Mere children facing fear as warriors in battle; Humbled parents anticipating speeding confinement. Sweat drenched palms, tightly holding rails of fear; Guiding towards unavoidable panic and fevered dread. Nervous chatter, under hushed voice, to calm and cheer; Talk of the drive home or what time to dine or meet. A gap in the waiting line goes unnoticed, unattended; Chance to escape the death grip of uncertainty's hold. A friendly nudge from the riders in line behind; Their rising sense of anticipation greater than the next. To pick the right seat, the right car on the wrong day; Front, back or middle, burning query of danger's inquisition. To lead the skyward pack -- To face fear's plummet first; Or to trail behind to whip and lash, hoping to hold on. Safety in middle's huddle -- Let the brave lead the charge; Refuge from end's claim on fright -- Never to chance that plight. To have picked one of park's hard benches below, more comfort; From there 'til now, a forever away -- Forever to stay. Nestled snug in foam-wrapped steel, even to breath a chore; Grip so tight, impressions left behind for the next to fit. A look over to partner's face, like looking into fear's mirror; The eyes bright, but somewhere else -- Wanting this to end. All locked down and "Clear" comes a call from operator's voice; A sudden jerk to the rear and death's speeding bullet is shot. Motion slowed at first climb, bringing a slight sense of relief; Finally on our way -- Still breathing, still seeing, still fearing. The slow climb upwards brings a somber silence to festive banter; Diminishing echoes from throngs below, now only background noise. To look down and see birds flying past, gives height new definition; Gaze lower to see ground's finality, gives pause to ask why. Gaining altitude, usually reserved for pilots to measure; Up, seemingly has no bounds -- Its goal to break gravity's hold. At the top, our breaths stop cold like a moment lost forever; Ahead, find a look into nothing's eyes -- Below, to come crashing quickly. Down never felt so far, a free fall from heaven's door be as high; Accelerating faster 'til at last, vision becomes a hazed blur. Breath comes no more, the decent expelling its appetite for life; Cooled air rushing past so fast, gasping to capture its necessity. The screamer's lungs return with vengeance and a ferocious blast; Their haunting echoes left to mid-air, feeding speed's hunger for sound. Gravity's force squashing the speeding bullets towards Earth's core; With ground's arrival comes celebration of victory and survival. The battle just begun, ready the charge for journey's next turn; Wrapped around circles so tight to leave the jaws of death standing. Whipped in a swirl of screws and curves, down is up and up is down; Make sense of the scene, to recall this mixed up memory be a trick. Speed's new partners, still clinching to safety's harness and hold; Only the bravest to leave go and knock about bullet's shell. Speed's new sitters, still wishing for trek's end, but not too soon; For fear has turned to thrill -- Transformed from its flight in the sky. Rails flattening near the end, still rushing past images blurred; Passengers waiting to chance fear's reprieve -- To have fear's relieved. A sudden jolt to slow, the beast's last breath to take from us; Now, sluggish progress carries us to station's cover and safety. Wind still in our hair, testimony of speed's impressions; The clinch finally to let go, burn of muscle and limb to feel. Rise from the clutches of speed's fury, the bullet's run tamed at last; Race back in line to start fear's drama once more -- Fear's drama, so fast. M.A. Miller 06.21.00< !signature--> My calling before me, let quill be my offering; For to be called poet, no greater gift to receive. M.A.M. [This message has been edited by MA Miller (edited 07-16-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 ma miller - All Rights Reserved | |||
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ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
Oh yeah I've been on quite a few of those and what a rush it is!!! Well done, you captured the anticipation before the actual ride, that's part of the whole action....... |
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Lost Dreamer Member Elite
since 1999-06-20
Posts 2464Somewhere near the Rainbow |
Wow, who needs to go on the ride when they have your wonderful description. I'm still out of breath and still getting over it. Fabulous writing, and thanks for the ride  |
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Paula Finn Member Ascendant
since 2000-06-17
Posts 5546missouri |
WOW...let me find my stomach |
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Trew Member
since 2000-06-10
Posts 365Ottawa, Canada |
Woo-hoo! I closed my eyes, but then I couldn't read anything.  That was the next best thing to being on one. Your images were perfect! Wait for me, I'm goin' on again! |
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ma miller Senior Member
since 2000-07-11
Posts 806 |
thanks all for reading ... i know it's long, but i felt it had to be in order to attempt the capture of such a beast ... |
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brian madden Member Elite
since 2000-05-06
Posts 4374ireland |
M.A one read is not enough, way to much for my addled brain to take in but what it did absorb blew me away an amazing intense epic, when I fully recover I am going to read this again. Better fasten my seat belt. "Out of sorrow entire worlds have been built Out of longing great wonders have been willed They're only little tears, darling, let them spill" Nick |
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ma miller Senior Member
since 2000-07-11
Posts 806 |
thanks brian ... for the time i know it takes to read it ... glad you thought it was worth the effort ... |
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