a poem by James Stephen Thompson, UK - poetry writer, author, poet

Well They Tried-Not Bad First Attempt

Three stubborn females, Ross, Young and Curtis
Decided unshakably through not feeling nervous
To switch to such high-speed motorcycle service
And show their strength through their new purchase

They sat at the line with their rear end on the seat
To rev up their engine and so repetitiously repeat
They wait for the sign of all red lights to depart
And see who travels furthest by simply looking smart

With one and all dressed in black leather so cute
Tension does build along with intention to scoot
And each with her make-up on so to follow suit
Although from the rear end fumes do so pollute

The red lights are out as all rev up and depart
Strongly positioned on their motor bikes at heart
Each machine makes progress, which nose shall play its part
With each one determined for yet a further head start

Sparks and sure smoke do shoot out from each rear
As Ross, Young and Curtis almost flat do disappear
Progressing along flat out with no sign of fear
With swift acceleration and from first into top gear

Competition enters upon each and every bend
As each backside plays its part so to defend
With one on attempt to overtake on the bend
She is brought off her bike so to skid onto the end

Her opposition follows suit into a toss and turn
As they all come to rest with no time for concern
No chance of a victory through their point of no return
Yet they limp off the track now so sordid and so stern

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