Best Cab Poems
We went in a cab to see cold slab,
That did appear to be dull and drab;
Letters were distinct when viewed;
So much sadness there we ensued.
Tombstones arranged row after row;
All around green grass grew and grew;
In background were abundant trees;
In faces we would feel a cool breeze.
On a long beach many boats landed;
By an officer had been commanded;
Such a horrible place surely had been;
They died never to ever be seen again.
In graveyard each dead body will abide,
Remember all of those who there died;
Bugle issued forth such a lonely sound;
For all those who no longer are around.
In review soldiers would soon pass by,
Proudly, but still were wondering why
They did gallantly die with things grim;
Forever will never forget any of them.
Am open to all criticism and recommendations.
Alone at the narrow and busy street
Waited promptly for a cab to stop a bit.
At last lucky one respond to signals
Rode calmly whilst have thought of things
As the cab traversed streets to bridges
Mind soared with the driver's ordeals
Spoke undated events which ruined his life
Special one left for someone without notice
Love within and without fear to commit
In a relationship but haunted by past
Cab driver's enlightenment at once realized
Through sets of words emphatically uttered.
Its easier than
You thought.
Tacos in hand and
All. But I won't
Eat your flavor
as you are so
Ridiculous.
I took a taxi
And it was
Wondrous,
Traveling
and Undying
Like a zombie
without restraint.
I come undone.
Flying around the corner on two wheels!
Look at him go!
His name is Fazik and he drove me from the airport to the hotel.
Riding in the car with him was like watching a magic show.
You should have been along for the ride!
Whizzing around the most dangerous streets in the city.
Streets even too narrow for a donkey!
I don’t remember praying as hard as I did on that 45 minute commute to the hotel.
Fazik, the taxi cab driver from hell.
Gwendolen Rix
4-26-15
Whatever happened to all those cab drivers
in Madison, Wisconsin with PhD's back in the 1970's?
How are all the college kids doing who cut off a finger or toe
in order to avoid get drafted for the War in Vietnam?
How many domestic terrorists with blood on their hands
are leading respectable lives with forged identities?
Bernadine Dohrn, 'College Professor' - ex-Leader of
the 'Weather Underground'... Do you sleep at night?
Whatever became of all those long-hairs in the pictures
at Woodstock Music Festival in New York in 1969?
How about all those backpackers searching for Truth, who dived
deep into cults like Hari Krishna and the Moonies?
Wuddya say, Ginni Thomas?
Where have all the flowers gone? ... They've gone the way of
ANTIFA, of BLM, of Seattle, WA, of Portland, OR, of all the
'Sanctuary Cities' and George-Soros backed Prosecuting Attorneys
who refuse to prosecute, of CRT, of the 1619 Project, of endless
COVID lockdowns, of 'The Squad' and of 'wokeness'
But if you ask me, if America could survive the Cuban Missile Crisis,
Castro, Mao, Watergate, Sadam Hussein, Monica Lewinsky, Bin-Laden,
9/11, the Dotcom Bust, the ENRON and Arthur Anderson scandals,
the Great Recession, the Real Estate bubble, and Donald Trump and
Hilary Clinton, then I guess we can survive about anything
T Tips are adding up fast
A And you can see the meter rolling hard
X 'Xasperating to watch your hard earn money being spent
I It might be better to not see how many accidents you have almost had
C Cabbie drives wrecklessly, through two inch spaces,
A Afraid for your life, you clutch the door, and the seat ahead of you
B But you are not there yet, and you are in New York City
D Deliberate attempts to kill you have not been successful yet
R Racing heart, you dare not look away, from your final destination
I In the throes of scary, you are terrified you are going to be smashed up
V Vigorous driving, fast paced, then slamming on the brakes, wham. Whip.
E Enthusiastic smiles from the man who has your life in his hands.
R Relieved you have arrived in one piece, deciding never again.
a cab driver's day can be
partly bad luck, partly glee,
just always be on your toes,
you won't get a bloody nose;
backseat lovebirds snuggle
and softly coo to each other,
next minute, they quarrel,
snarl and commit murder;
a celestial chick hops in,
stuns you with just a wink
and a magnum in your rib,
nothing left for your drink;
a crazed hubby grabs you,
so you zoom after a chopper
for his wife and pilot lover,
leaps out your door, he's over;
bank robbers kick you out
and roar away in your cab,
in panic they leave behind
oodles of moolah in a bag!
Sitting in the passive seat
No one cares to even greet
Delicious kisses
Holding her hand
Having the best time
I never had
In the back of my cab
Memories never made
Coward in the driver's seat
Driving nowhere
Sometimes I wait
They sit and stare
Always late
First dates
Lonely old mates
Nail-biting hags
Giggity girls
Clinking bags
Wall Street wolves
I carry their luggage, in more ways than one
And think of all the things I've never done
I take them places
Somewhere for them
Nowhere for me
Oh, the fun they have
They ride, in the back of my cab
"THEY MUST'VE TAKEN A CAB"
the demons sit and
have a drink.
they watch me like a
virgin watches ****.
there's no singing,
there's no yelling,
there's no talking.
they stay with me like
the sound of my
footsteps when I walk.
today all four of them
sit with me at my table.
as the writing of this
poem progresses they
share their expressions.
my door is locked.
the shades are drawn.
my lights are off.
all the television screens
are black and now they
laugh as the shadows of
man terrify me.
you'd think they'd give
me some praise for this
poetry life but all they
can do is pat me on the
back.
I ask them why?
they tell me their wives
could learn a thing or two
from me about keeping
the energy bill low.
By: Chicano Eddie
1-23-2017
i stood
did it was understood
tho i hope
i couldn't
to get them to stop
it was a in my block
they move around
i felt let down
so i went back to my lab
felt rejected
trying to
HAILING A CAB
If I were a taxi cab, I would not charge people.
I would delight them with free rides from St. Louis to New York.
Babies would love being born in my backseat.
I would travel the world, at a good clip, picking up speed downhill.
Policemen would wave me by, remembering their free rides.
I would play sixties and seventies folk music on my radio.
A cute bare foot hippie foot pedal would delight my hippie self.
I would rig up a gorgeous orange and red lava lamp with a silver top.
And you would call me groovy, cool, and radical.
The clip clop of the horse in front
As we cuddled together in the Hanson Cab
A chilly wind blows the branches in the trees
And the rain patters softly on the roof
Your sweet perfume intrigues me
As I hold your hands I gently warm them
The London streets are cobbled and wet
And I wanted this moment to be forever
We talk together and I can see the laughter
In your eyes and your loving smile
The cab stops and I shelter you from the rain
As we run together happily inside to our flat.
© Paul Warren Poetry
its ture black step back
if white your right
thats wrong we all belong
as you hail
you seen to fail
and its gets hard
when cab
HAILING IS A RACE CARD
i was like a loner
stood on this corner
hands high
waveing to sky
they all pass me by
this is know lie
i was decuss in pain
HAILING
A CAB IN THE RAIN
i was a loner
standing on the corner
my hands hand
they pass my by
i felt llike dieing
just left my lab
TRYING TO GET A CAB