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Things Go Bump In The Night Painting

Things Go Bump In The Night


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Lindricks Insight

Welcome to LindricksBaseline. In its' humble beginnings this web site was established May 18, 2002, and evolved to a dot com status April 9, 2003. It is designed as an outreach to promote the general welfare of others: and it seeks to provide you with resolve through the imaginative recourse of the mind.

When abstract and linear thought are conjunctionally fostered through the creative process, it molds and shapes the inner cerebrum of the mind - giving birth to the whole man. The only limits are those imposed by self.


Rescue Me

Poem Written By: Linda Darlene Brennaman/
Lindricks-Pseudonym © 1996
Published here: August 2004

1956, The grandeur night life;
Cruising the strip.
Envy I became-
Itís such a demand.
Shimmering chrome;
Shining for miles.
Oh what the life;
the life and style.

1966, The glitz was gone.
Shame I became.
Tossed in a field of lilies;
they too-eschewed-and rose high.
Pining to rev, and roam once again;
Destined to seclusion;
The effervescence was gone;
rust, and corrosion had subserved.

1975, Lost and forgotten;
The morning tears, rest upon my hood.
Through the dense fog-
My peering eyes could see-
See someone-
I cried rescue me.
Too far, in the distance-
they pressed on.

Lost and forgotten;
humble I became.
Longing for someone-
To feel my pain, (How dreadful,
it had become).
The hazy recollection of the days of yore;
still a spark smoldered,
and I pined some more.

1994, A blooming bright morning had appeared,
A dobbin was grazing.
A young Petticoat came dancing nigh.
She stopped and marveled,
and saw a beauty
that I could not see.
She romped for a moment;
Then she was gone.

Puzzled at her actions;
and wounded to the core;
My sadness intensified more.
Expediently, she returned
with a team of dobbins, and a crew.
They hoisted me up and out
of the bed I lay-placing me on a trailer,
which left me no longer in clay.

Carried for miles to a nearby farm:
I wondered, what was to come?
My fallen parts where tucked close by.
A closeness and tenderness had come.
Carefully-me and my parts
where placed in a sanctum-the barn at most,
To be tended,
nursed, and coursed.

The crew worked night and day;
sanding, and probing
with fine instruments to rid me
of the cancerous rust that plagued me
My emotions rang high;
Not taking anything for granted.
I sat,
and waited.

New tires were rolled in and mounted.
New leather/covered the tattered seats.
Broken parts welded like new.
I was becoming whole.
The excitement! The ecstasy
overwhelmed me.
Parts not my own, but the same-
Restored me-Restored me like new.

The work was done; the crew was gone.
All alone in this empty barn
I thought; now what?
An elderly man, entered the barn
carrying a red can and a nozzle.
He inserted the nozzle into my spout,
and poured fluid-I had tasted-not.
He proceeded to turn my engine.

My engine all primed and churning:
The elderly gentleman mounted me,
and took me for a spin.
Returning to the barn
all out of breath
my wandering eyes could see
the Petticoat-who rescued me;
She now-holds my keys.

Cruising once again-the Petticoat and me.
Taking nothing for granted-you see.
Restorationsí becoming,
but take it from me-
life has itsí price-
if only you could see.
Proud and boastful-I cannot be; humility
stands forth, for the Petticoat rescued me.

First Publication: Winter 1996/97-Vol.1, No.2, in the book, "Into The Eye". All rights to author reverted back to author upon publication.

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