Best Billboard Poems


Billboard

Speedy Bill was often apprehended
For driving faster than recommended.
He paid officers no heed
Even increased his speed.
Now he’s on a wall decidedly distended.

Digressions On Billboard Haiku

DIGRESSIONS ON BILLBOARD HAIKU

Sick of the commute?

	Early morning pavement gray as masticated 
	breakfast sprinkled with broken glass.

Brakelights driving you crazy?

	Blinking red Morse with its Monday 
	bad news: Accident Ahead.

Take the train and dream.

	And off beyond the shoulder, fields of grasses 
	growing free, whatever the mind can see.

The Billabong Song Is Neither a Billboard Nor a Bull Breaking

A transparent parrot makes a very big noise when seed arrives to visit. Mr and Mrs seed have fifteen children, eleven thousand grandchildren and one great grandchild. It is interesting to note bar levels for bar levels are neither bare back riders, billionaires, biscuit barrels or broomsticks breaking beers. Carrier pigeons call most effectively in a midday heat whilst flapping to the air like a fly waving to a open sandwich. The sandwich gets quite upset when the flies do this for flies flake flesh and flesh is a mighty weight of acrobatic atomic applets. Apples seek shelter under umbrellas borrowed from the shoe basket in the hall. Then laugh as the humans cannot locate their weather protectors. It is very amusing when chatting to a mild mannered bin for bins contain waste and waste is often wise, witty and witters on and on wildly in a worldwide whorl. Great. How fantastic it is to ask for a cup of tea from a passing family of otters. Otters create the most marvellous of brews and unlike shrews they do not stew their brew. So never leave a hairbrush facing a window if it is painted with silver stripes for such a mistake will be noted by the otters whose fascination with windows and hairbrushes is often quite profound really. Self adjusting images rarely paint landscapes. And a field in a photo is simply philosifying about the growth of potatoe cake plants this year. Ghost of great girth cannot sit on a five centimetre window ledge. And the pretty unicorn in a cloud can canter across the skies at wonderful speeds. Fantastic isn't it. And now that you have learnt all of that it is time to prepare the curry said the little mouse on the turntable. Ok then. Good. Have you a biscuit to eat on the A52? Haha bibbing bubbling bursting brooks baking birthday balloons. Hahaha prism in a circumference equals a happy hexagonal mineral deposit. Traditional turning turbaned turbines. Windmill waltzing with willows. Xxxxx sacramentarianism. Z z z z Z. @ forty foot over a loch


Premium Member One Last Billboard

So many billboards placed around you
and the trailer played in your head time and time again.
But denial disguised himself as belief
while it stood as your counselor 
to think a Bull will someday become a Lion.

No one has hit perfection
and no one ever will do so
but there are wrongs worth of great attention
and some turn-offs worth judging.
You stick around with your own created glue
then you alone can liquefy its sew.

How long would it take 
to read the writing from a board 
and marker with the same colour?
To see how nature forms dry waters?
To hope for physic’s invention of hot ice?
Or test the reality of a black leaf?

Zero billion, a million more times is still zero.
That is how it is if you try
imposing faithfulness on a man with a boy’s heart.
Think of the possibility of a celibate Casanova
and know the exact depth of the pit you’ll land into

Premium Member One Billboard Changed Me

I have always thought if I stayed in my lane
If I angered no one
If I used a soft voice
If I hid the real me
I would not be maimed or murdered.
Be unassuming, my mind said.
Above all else, do not show the real you.

Then I saw a billboard that said this:
“The world needs who you were meant to be.”
I transformed myself from rabbit without voice to a dragon.
My thoughts and feelings thundered down on people.
Within a few months I went from passive to aggressive.
Not understanding yet the effectiveness of being assertive.

Premium Member Jazz on a Billboard

Jazz on a billboard,
a flash of notes,
Urgent beats, syncopation, improvisation,
and impromptu solos but why jazz on a billboard?
What’s the hap’s on that?
Man, what is the impact of the word jazz on a billboard anyway?
Syncopation is alive,
solos breaking free,
and a temporary show,
but is jazz here to stay?
Does a billboard for Jazz tell us about all the arranging, playing, composing
finding a paying gig, radio spins, music reviews,
band members quitting to get out of the jazz life?
Cars whiz by, faces turned,
who cares about the sound of jazz anyway
The tenor horn says
"Listen up, Listen here
Jazz is everywhere,
and like nowhere to be found
So, dig this
Every jazz note,
every gig, every miss,
and every jazz player who lives jazz behind
Jazz shapes your life with a heartbreaking rhythm.
So, here’s to the journey,
to hip beats and downbeats
Jazz is life on a billboard,
is hip for some passers-by to see
to feel, to groove, to feel where you're at
To come alive, jazz is for real
and that's my dance in life
© Tony Adamo  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Billboard

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 
|I am a billboard available now |
|for advertisement of anything |
|like product you want to vend | 
|or some dream you like to sell |
|I stand high lighted day - night|
|in full  view of loitering people |
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 
I  m
n  a
t   r
h  k
e  e
c  t
r  c
o e
w n  
d  t
e  r
d e 
decide  to
profit now

Premium Member Naughty Billboard

Picture a man's hooha on a billboard downtown
Ladies would be late, spill coffee on their gowns
With their mouths all agape
Their makeup in bad shape
Those ad boys sure know how to clown around

Billboard Sign

billboard sign
winks at me
eat here now

temptation
hungry bear
buffet line

plate piled high
ten pounds plus
waistband stretch

The Flesh: a Billboard

Immeasurable,
unlabeled, word-
less by 
studded 
tears
and 
voice,


APHONIC.

Only death by 
tenderness 
swoops down
as eternity
and her hands,
soft as fire;
as time

the flesh;
a billboard
the soul
neon lights.

:: 11-06-2017 ::

A billboard of Mercy

Stuff I don’t deserve
As I swerve through this life
A reflection in time
Jesus is the One 
Who takes me to my prime

My life has been a billboard of mercy
God the Father flows and 
Shows the love filtering from His Heart
Stuff I don’t deserve but
He allows me to swerve through this life
My life is a billboard of mercy

Copyright 2024
© Mark Frank  Create an image from this poem.

Every Human a Billboard

Every human being a is bill board
On each on the roadside of life
Devils advertise vices attractively
Angels teach virtues with humility
Skeptics deny everything outright
God records responses quietly

Premium Member Heaven's Billboard

Just before the sun rises
  and just after it sets
The sky's majesty bursts forth
  Rapture's carnival in jets

of brilliant bold colors
  so rich and so deep
clinging to Heaven's billboard
  ere they give way to Time's sweep

Billboard Jesus I-25 (Messages In Message)

What faith can do There is a way                                                                                    
All of creation Hold my heart Until the whole world hears                                               
Safe City on our knees forgiven                                                                                 
Words I would say Something beautiful                                                                              
Let the waters rise Before morning Healing hand of God                                                 
Can anybody hear me Get back up Love never fails                                                     
Save a place for me Your hands everything falls		                                 
Walk on the water Hold us together Beautiful beautiful                                                 
More like falling in love Beautiful history Love has come
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.

Billboard

A highway billboard reads:
“If you died today
would you be ready for hell?”

My parents die,
I feel a distant sorrow
that grows tighter
like a vine in my dreams.

My dog dies, I shed real tears;
willow-sap pools in my gut.

Five thousand souls perish
somewhere far away -
nothing.

I suspect heaven is a tattoo 
over this world’s blemishes.

Hell?  Maybe it’s just a place 
for the petty and predictable -
as commonplace
as a pimple or an itch.

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