Milk Carton Race Day

Hi all, this is a fun, humorous science poem for kids and adults. A little competition all in good fun with tongue in cheek humor.

Milk Carton Race Day

Zeffy always had the best of the best--

an ultrafast carbuncle-studded sled.

Not me, I had liquor box cardboard,

twice used, folded, with extra wax.

Zeffy's Super-balloon max hopping shoes,

pimped with sequins, side air flues

made my poor old sneakers look rather sad

especially with taped sides and faded hue.

When Zeffy ate, six waiters in tux bowed

and offered strawberries, champagne, and roe.

Cheese-whiz was the luxury that made me drool,

swirled on saltines, that's the best we could do.

But when D-Day came, we both had the same

milk carton racers painted with flames.

Zeffy had six in the gun, over and under,

with steel belted tires and traction in water.

I had them, too, only the wheels fell off

when we drove into mud, and the engine coughed.

The race was supposed to be man to man

start line to finish, let the best man win.

But the thing is, desperation makes one cunning,

poor in hand makes one extra attending.

Let's just say when my dream dragon slid,

poor old Zeffy's monster megacrooming bled

oil from the wheels and sunk into sand

and I sailed off, crossing the span

to cheers and balloons and hands slapping back

because one always should know tact

when to tell all the details and plan

while the spoiled go far too grand

and forget the venue, forget the wonder

of wheels turned to paddle

at the drop of a gear, sailing

across our terrain and crossing the line

made me far richer than Zeffy under water

sunk is one thing, but thunk is far better.

'cause I crossed the finish to thunderous cheers

and won the title of super, duper engineer.

Sheri Fresonke Harper