Don’t buy this car for shine or speed,
this one is special, just what you need.
The kind of peace a road alone can't hold,
the warmth of this metal feels illegal to be sold.
Its seats have softened storms and fears,
they’ve carried every feeling through the years;
and when your own days twist or break,
this car will steady what you take.
Its windows frame the world with grace,
its miles will meet you face to face;
it will teach your heart to breathe again,
to trust the road, to trust the wind.
So take the keys to this unreal steel.
It’s where your future learns to finally feel.
tail light smile
held by tiny screws
never discarded
adorning restaurants
made into a purse
showing your state
wearing sticker
a car label
clue for policeman
Dakotas
Ohio
Iowa
I.D.
license
plate
A girl traces her name on a lotus
wet petal,
black ink finger,
the blossom closes on blank water.
She pockets the air.
Pink sticky notes colonise the mirror:
Poet, Loved by All,
toothpaste specks between her futures.
Each morning she nods at the manifesto fogging under her breath.
The vision board:
a ransom note to the universe.
Magazine scissors,
glossy mouths smiling,
glue stick still uncapped.
She walks through doorways as if hinges are already singing,
her shoulder angled for the width of yes.
At night,
the lotus opens anyway moonlit,
empty,
holding nothing but its own white throat.
A sleazy greedy cheating single-minded
lying used car salesman with ambition
had higher aspiration hopes
of a top managerial position
altho' customer trust was a must
as the fast-talking low-life archetype
his focus was on moving their money
into his pocket with one fell swipe
so to move as much merchandise
as a man can possibly do
while on rota to meet his quota
he'd advertise 'Low mileage, good as new'
yet of the hundred motors or more
parked polished outdoors and on show
when viewers knew not what to purchase
and wanting a coupe which would go
as prospective buyers they'd ask in dismay
the pointed all-important question
'Which car should I buy, of those on display?'
he would reply, 'Try my auto suggestion.'
In a daze,
So confused,
Strained emotions,
Heart abused.
Cold and lost,
Struggling through,
Life’s different,
Without you.
Frayed temper,
Torn seams,
I still see you,
In my dreams.
Abundant memories,
Bittersweet,
You’re in my heart,
Every beat.
By a thread,
Hanging on,
Auto pilot activated,
Since you’ve been gone.
The calendar date, red-inked into alpine
white vellum: a blood-letting, a quilled line.
Old ducks [politically incorrect] featherless,
waddling like myself, fall neatly into line.
"It is time," I say to my left-brain, my right-
hand, "to auto write a poem in couplet line."
In my excitement I look toward newborn
paper and begin reworking the previous line.
My face soften, my fingers relax. Another
deception blotted off the eternal timeline.
Time marches on ... or, onward and upward!
"Upward?" the poet asks. "Oh, what a line!"
As it is the way with me, I have the car prepped by individuals whose love of the industry has acquired a rather peculiar name, "Grease Monkey."
I have no understanding of vehicles or their inner makings of their encasement under the hood the concepts of an engine. Repairing a flat tire, or locking the keys in the car, whereto, I leave it to AAA for its resolve.
Now the picture is made clear, the vehicle industry is one subject matter, when it comes to my person, I have little to no interest.
Now we're heading back to the Bay Area, and the four of us have some great conversations, lots of laughing, funny incidences in housekeeping.
I drove up to let all three off at Derek's place and waited in my car, as Derek went to retrieve his car. Jane and I shared some new news and there was no mention of that store incident, though it dwells in the back of our heads.
Derek drove to my driver's window, and I said I was going off to work, and I drove away and off to work I went, as they got into Derek's car till I was unable to see them.
mistake was worst than a bungle or blunder or ****
totally botched, mishandled and mismanaged
auto mechanics excuses put dad in a funky huff
his Ford was in worst shape now, totally damaged
Buying tomorrow
one day at a time
Each moment invested
in freedom sublime
The future remortgaged
all lien holders paid
The past earning interest
—on fortune today
(The New Room: July, 2023)
Classic custom old school car clubs
Sixty-six Ford LTD was “Dave’s Dream”
Personal plaques flash firme
Bajito rolling ranfla street scene
Carnal cruises slow style
Hoppin hydraulics make bombs bounce
To timeless oldies music mesh
Savvied since nineteen fifty-five
Cars converted for their cruising comfort
It’s inches Lowrider’s lowered from the dirt
Pavements, personalized cultural classic rides
Masterpiece Mexican American automobile’s
Chevy’s chèvere and Malibu’s mint
Official older car creators
Alliterisen
Carnal—by blood
Firme—firm
Bajito—low
Ranfla—A lowrider (car)
Auto-Reconhecimento
Janeiro se foi
e as minhas
palavras
são para você
e todas nós
reservar
um tempo;
parar e apreciar
quem somos,
quem você é,
e o que conquistou;
- talvez encontre
tropeços e perdas
- sim, nós podemos
aperfeiçoar tudo;
até fazer com pouco
muito mais e mais.
Vamos começar agora
com o auto-reconhecimento
e a apreciação:
são o que lhe
dá os insights
e a consciência
para avançar
em direção a objetivos
e realizações elevados.
Biden had a document
He hid in his garage
Biden had a sweet Corvette
He turned into a Dodge
An Auto Ride
A shuttle auto ,we were all into,
a student passenger leapt in.
Agglutinated her ears to the air pod,
eyes wide on the screen.
A small distance auto rickshaw it was.
But she kept busy ,wishpering and blushing,
time to time a smile popped flashing.
In between annoyed for some cause,
Pretended to be,to the one over the pods.
Her destination arrived in a while,
lost she was on her mobile.
When the driver called “Nager Bazar”,
once, twice, then the third time.
The damsel had not committed a crime.
Just that,she didn’t hear until shaken.
Lost she was, in her world of heaven.
Oops! Yet she didn’t realise,
until she felt the jerk.
Looked upon by every eye.
Cut the line in embarrassment,
hurriedly paid to the driver, in decent.
Got down, and back to the talk.
Aah ,what I thought it was,
A life without phone,
Could be a life long gone.
My Brain is on Fire
My Thoughts are blacken and cracked
My Soul is trapped in a mire
My Body feels racked
I am forever changed
Am I forever lost?
I am forever deranged
Am I knowing the true cost?
Oh God, what is the plan
Why could I have not been hit harder?
Oh God, I do not know where it began
Why could I not have been smarter
I wish I could find peace
Maybe just find some release?
I have a day off;
Woke up, the sun is shining;
Beach auto pilot.
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.