My Wheelchair

[billy]

hi sir

the title is sort of saying,

the poem is about a wheel chair,

my problem then becomes, do i want to read a poem about a wheelchair,
i've just left a bit of crit because i realised, it feels more like a list. or perhaps a manual. the last line reminds me of a joke about a brain damaged boxer and a shopping trolley as to what the difference was . the punch line was; the shopping trolley has a mind of its own. so the last line i like it strikes me as amusing and even funny. the execution need to be more than a manual.
good effort though.
i also liked the line

circular dearest wheel. btw i can picture the wheelie person talking to their wheels.

My Wheelchair

Silver frying pan i think[b] this tries to work on more than one level; it's round, or if you're in it you're fried. but i'm not sure is succeeds.
Shivering, portable to purpose what does portable to purpose? it feels forced, do you mean [portable]
Purified and bleached
sacred, adept to the rite

Electric melting pain
Elated, the water boils
Sustenance comfortably blanched
Cooked, the food is ate

Please don't burn

Circular dearest wheel
Contraption, portable to purpose
Spinning along its rims
Bound, hog-tied and spoked

Immaculate mechanised steel
Ingenious, the turnstyle toils
Motion comfortably prism'd
directed, the point awoke

Please just turn
[/b]
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This is my first post. I'm not classically educated in poetry whatsoever as I dropped out of highschool and only have a couple years of university under my belt. Point is, I know my understanding of metre and such isn't up to far with some of the writers here, so be as constructive as possible please. Thank you very much to anyone who takes the time to read this and I hope you enjoy


My Wheelchair 2.0 (An attempt to make it feel more)

Silver frying pan
Functional and portable to purpose
Purified and bleached
sacred and adept to the rite

Electric melting pain
Elated, the nerves boil
And with sustenance comfortably blanched
cooked, the food is ate

Just please don't burn

And you, dearest wheel
another contraption, portable to purpose
Spinning along its rims
Bound, hog-tied and spoked

An Immaculate mechanised steel
Ingenious, the way the turnstyle toils
Motion comfortably prism'd
and directed-- the point is choked

Please just turn