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Famous Short Car Poems. Short Car Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short Car Poems. Short Car Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Car short poems

See also: Best Famous Short Poems | Short Member Poems | Best Short Member Poems | Top 100 Famous Short Poems

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by Carl Sandburg

Window

 Night from a railroad car window
Is a great, dark, soft thing
Broken across with slashes of light.


by Richard Brautigan

We Stopped at Perfect Days

 We stopped at perfect days
and got out of the car.
The wind glanced at her hair.
It was as simple as that.
I turned to say something--


by Richard Brautigan

30 Cents Two Transfers Love

 Thinking hard about you 
I got on the bus 
and paid 30 cents car fare 
and asked the driver for two transfers 
before discovering 
that I was 
alone.


by Robert Bly

In a Train

There has been a light snow.
Dark car tracks move in out of the darkness.
I stare at the train window marked with soft dust.
I have awakened at Missoula Montana utterly happy.


by Lew Welch

Dear Joanne

 Dear Joanne,

Last night Magda dreamed that she,
you, Jack, and I were driving around
Italy.
We parked in Florence and left our dog to guard the car.
She was worried because he doesn't understand Italian.


by Allen Ginsberg

Those Two

 That tree said
 I don't like that white car under me,
 it smells gasoline
That other tree next to it said
 O you're always complaining
 you're a neurotic
 you can see by the way you're bent over.
July 6, 1981, 8 p.
m.


by Robert Creeley

I Know A Man

 As I sd to my
friend, because I am
always talking,--John, I

sd, which was not his
name, the darkness sur-
rounds us, what

can we do against
it, or else, shall we &
why not, buy a goddamn big car,

drive, he sd, for
christ's sake, look
out where yr going.


by Gregory Corso

Last Night I Drove A Car

 Last night I drove a car


 not knowing how to drive
 not owning a car

 I drove and knocked down

 people I loved
 .
.
.
went 120 through one town.
I stopped at Hedgeville and slept in the back seat .
.
.
excited about my new life.


by Linda Pastan

Jump Cabling

 When our cars touched
When you lifted the hood of mine
To see the intimate workings underneath,
When we were bound together
By a pulse of pure energy,
When my car like the princess
In the tale woke with a start, 
I thought why not ride the rest of the way together.


by Spike Milligan

Philip Le Barr

 Philip Le Barr, 
Was knock down by a car, 
On the road to Mandalay.
He was knocked down again By a dust cart in Spain And again in Zanzibar.
So, He travled at night In the pale moon light Away from the traffic growl But terrible luck He was hit by a duck Driven by an owl.


by William Carlos (WCW) Williams

The Term

 A rumpled sheet
Of brown paper
About the length

And apparent bulk
Of a man was
Rolling with the 

Wind slowly over
And over in 
The street as

A car drove down
Upon it and 
Crushed it to

The ground.
Unlike A man it rose Again rolling With the wind over And over to be as It was before.


by Carl Sandburg

Portrait of a Motor Car

 IT’S a lean car … a long-legged dog of a car … a gray-ghost eagle car.
The feet of it eat the dirt of a road … the wings of it eat the hills.
Danny the driver dreams of it when he sees women in red skirts and red sox in his sleep.
It is in Danny’s life and runs in the blood of him … a lean gray-ghost car.


by Susan Rich

For Sale

 Xhosa women in clothes too light

for the weather have brought wild flowers

and sit sloped along the Claremont road.
I see her through rolled windows, watch her watch me to decide if I’ll pay.
It’s South Africa, after all, after apartheid; but we’re still idling here, my car to her curb, my automatic locks to her inadequate wage.


by Robert Burns

Tibbie Dunbar

 O, wilt thou go wi' me,
Sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
O, wilt thou go wi' me,
Sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
Wilt thou ride on a horse,
Or be drawn in a car,
Or walk by my side,
O sweet Tibbie Dunbar?

I care na thy daddie,
His lands and his money,
I care na thy kin
Sae high and sae lordly;
But say thou wilt ha'e me
For better for waur—
And come in thy coatie,
Sweet Tibbie Dunbar!


by Langston Hughes

Merry-Go-Round

 COLORED CHILD AT CARNIVAL

Where is the Jim Crow section 
On this merry-go-round, 
Mister, cause I want to ride?
Down South where I come from 
White and colored 
Can't sit side by side.
Down South on the train There's a Jim Crow car.
On the bus we're put in the back-- But there ain't no back To a merry-go-round! Where's the horse For a kid that's black?


by Robert Burns

269. Song—Sweet Tibbie Dunbar

 O WILT thou go wi’ me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
O wilt thou go wi’ me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
Wilt thou ride on a horse, or be drawn in a car,
Or walk by my side, O sweet Tibbie Dunbar?


I care na thy daddie, his lands and his money,
I care na thy kin, sae high and sae lordly;
But sae that thou’lt hae me for better for waur,
And come in thy coatie, sweet Tibbie Dunbar.


by Paul Eluard

Five Haiku

 The wind 
Undecided 
Rolls a cigarette of air 

The mute girl talks: 
It is art's imperfection.
This impenetrable speech.
The motor car is truly launched: Four martyrs' heads Roll under the wheels.
Ah! a thousand flames, a fire, The light, a shadow! The sun is following me.
A feather gives to a hat A touch of lightness: The chimney smokes.


by Spike Milligan

The Dog Lovers

 So they bought you
And kept you in a
Very good home
Cental heating
TV
A deep freeze
A very good home-
No one to take you
For that lovely long run-
But otherwise
'A very good home'
They fed you Pal and Chun
But not that lovely long run,
Until, mad with energy and boredom
You escaped- and ran and ran and ran
Under a car.
Today they will cry for you- Tomorrow they will but another dog.


by James Wright

Outside Fargo North Dakota

 Along the sprawled body of the derailed Great Northern freight car,
I strike a match slowly and lift it slowly.
No wind.
Beyond town, three heavy white horses Wade all the way to their shoulders In a silo shadow.
Suddenly the freight car lurches.
The door slams back, a man with a flashlight Calls me good evening.
I nod as I write good evening, lonely And sick for home.


by William Carlos (WCW) Williams

The Young Housewife

 At ten AM the young housewife
moves about in negligee behind
the wooden walls of her husband's house.
I pass solitary in my car.
Then again she comes to the curb to call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands shy, uncorseted, tucking in stray ends of hair, and I compare her to a fallen leaf.
The noiseless wheels of my car rush with a crackling sound over dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling.


by Geoffrey Hill

Mercian Hymns XVII

 He drove at evening through the hushed Vosges.
The car radio, glimmering, received broken utterance from the horizon of storms.
.
.
'God's honours - our bikes touched: he skidded and came off.
' 'Liar.
' A timid father's protective bellow.
Disfigurement of a village king.
'Just look at the bugger.
.
.
' His maroon GT chanted then overtook.
He lavished on the high valleys its haleine.


by Wang Wei

Looking Down in a Spring-rain

 Round a turn of the Qin Fortress winds the Wei River, 
And Yellow Mountain foot-hills enclose the Court of China; 
Past the South Gate willows comes the Car of Many Bells 
On the upper Palace-Garden Road-a solid length of blossom; 
A Forbidden City roof holds two phoenixes in cloud; 
The foliage of spring shelters multitudes from rain; 
And now, when the heavens are propitious for action, 
Here is our Emperor ready-no wasteful wanderer.


by Delmore Schwartz

Concerning The Synthetic Unity Of Apperception

 "Trash, trash!" the king my uncle said,
"The spirit's smoke and weak as smoke ascends.
"Sit in the sun and not among the dead, "Eat oranges! Pish tosh! the car attends.
"All ghosts came back.
they do not like it there, "No silky water and no big brown bear, "No beer and no siestas up above.
" "Uncle," I said, "I'm lonely.
What is love?" This drove him quite insane.
Now he must knit Time and apperception, bit by tiny bit.


by Walter de la Mare

Alone

 Over the fence, the dead settle in
for a journey.
Nine o'clock.
You are alone for the first time today.
Boys asleep.
Husband out.
A beer bottle sweats in your hand, and sea lavender clogs the air with perfume.
Think of yourself.
Your arms rest with nothing to do after weeks spent attending to others.
Your thoughts turn to whether butter will last the week, how much longer the car can run on its partial tank of gas.


by Carl Sandburg

Old Woman

 THE owl-car clatters along, dogged by the echo
From building and battered paving-stone.
The headlight scoffs at the mist, And fixes its yellow rays in the cold slow rain; Against a pane I press my forehead And drowsily look on the walls and sidewalks.
The headlight finds the way And life is gone from the wet and the welter-- Only an old woman, bloated, disheveled and bleared.
Far-wandered waif of other days, Huddles for sleep in a doorway, Homeless.


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