Get Your Premium Membership

Best Hit The Road Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Hit The Road poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of hit the road poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Hit The Road poems, articles about Hit The Road poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Hit The Road poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...

View all new Hit The Road Poems

The Best Hit The Road Poems

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.


It wasn't planned or by design,
But, somehow it worked out just fine.
My bank account was fairly high.
I lost my job and said goodbye
To all the things that tied me down.
I sold my house without a frown.
Got rid of almost everything.
Could hear my spirit start to sing.
Packed up my clothes and old guitar,
And started living in my car.

The city never held my heart,
Was just a game, I played my part.
Said, "see you later," to my friends.
One story starts, another ends.
I filled my tank and hit the road,
Without a care and nothing owed.
The pages opened up for me,
'Till freedom's all that I could see.
Just followed notions and a star,
And cherished living in my car.

My clock was sunset and the dawn,
It's all that I relied upon.
I'd sleep by streams and sometimes share,
The forest with whatever's there.
Nights silence was a welcome change.
My thoughts would soar to places strange.
I blended in with natures plan.
Just me and God and my sedan.
I learned of life and journeyed far, 
When I was living in my car.

Copyright © Robert Nehls | Year Posted 2014

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Yeah Right

I loved you 
I hate you
The picture and Sees candy I gave you for Christmas
Me there you smiled and accepted with gratitude
Me not around, she put her two cents in, 
You got on stage and dissed it

It had been a wonderful night
I pick up the phone
We intended to meet for dinner
Quickly found out you did a shitty job of picking a winner
You tell me your girl doesn't want me in your home
I'm your daughter, your princess, not a bar fly
Jealousy is such a wicked and ugly color
The darkest sound and tone 
Finding out your father has a wobbly backbone

Your girl yelled at me on the phone, 
Accused me of names,
Cast me from her Casa of Eden
You see two cats fighting
For you it's a stroke to the ego, makes you more vein.

Asked you to therapy,
Man...that was deep
Yeah right!  Got no where with you
Felt like one person trying to know down the Berlin wall
What are you a deer in the headlights?
If I can admit wrong so should you
It's not all on me as you would want me to believe is true

Thought this is a challenge in life you gotta play out
One day I opened my eye, 
Staring at the ceiling I realized
I'd gone to buy a card for you, 
All the loving writes
Nothing related to you baby
Something was wrong

You were wrong for treating me bad
I was wrong for accepting
No more
Hit the road dad..and dont you come back no more


Copyright © Lynn Dolly | Year Posted 2012

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.


Gotta problem and nowhere to go.
Take a trip across the tracks and see old 

She's not pretty and the only thing small 
about her is her feet.
But she's the best friend to every man she does meet.

If Mable aint able.
And your to drunk to get out from under 
the table. 

The hotel isnt a option when ya dont got
no money to blow.
Just knock three times and say hello to Flo.

Treat her good and treat her right.
And ya know Flo just might let ya 
spend the night.

Just drink up and take two asprin for 
your head.
Cause you know at Flo's theres only 
one bed.

In the morning  you best hit the road 
befor it turns bright.
Cause with a big woman who hasnt eat 
she just might bite.

And as you appear  beaten your friends must surely ask what some
already know.
That your in for a ruff night when ya spend it 
with Flo.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Why Do I Lose You

This is a parody of the Edna St. Vincent Millay
sonnet "Well, I Have Lost You," which is given
in the notes section.

Well, I do lose you, lose you frequently.
It is my way to lose necessities.
Say what you will, it's just been recently
I've lost you twice a week, my missing keys.
Some days of lengthy searches and frustration
I will confess, but that's required of me.
Then finding you results in such elation.
I hit the road, for from my cage I'm free!
If I loved staying home and scorned employment,
I know I wouldn't value you so highly.
But buying things with paychecks brings enjoyment.
So when you're lost, I search for you quite spryly.
     For those like me, misplacing things gets worse.
     Today I tossed the house to find my purse.

Date: September 29, 2017

Name of Contest: Lost

Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi

Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2017

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I Repeat, I'm Not Interested

Why are you coming around again? Unlike Bo Derek, you are no ten. Your head’s full of air. For you, I don’t care. Go and try your luck with other men. Didn’t you get the message the first time? To see you back here seems like a crime. You should hit the road. Haul away your load. A nearby tall tree is what you should climb.
Inspired by a recent comment I received

Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2012

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

How to Read your Pal's mind

Getting confused between the two
Wondering what they think about you
Who thinks you are trustworthy friend 
And who thinks that you will bring his friendship to an end  
Although you can’t say what they are thinking by how they pretend
But it can help you to some extent
Like Old Phil, he’s looking at the clock
Maybe he is waiting for his daughter to take a walk
And his daughter is looking at her father
Wondering how to get rid of this walking disaster
Now comes stage two, the tricky part
How to be sure that you predictions are right, you thought
Just see their body language and the way the speak
If it is a smile or a squeal or a squeak
Smile means best friends
Squeal means they’re tensed
Squeak means of you they are afraid
My technique works like I said
The third and the final part is the trickiest of all
Do it right, or fail and fall
You have to know how to react
Otherwise they will win in their act
If in an angry or spoilt mood
You should run and hit the road
Staying near that person may be hazardous to health
And as you know “Health is wealth”
If sad or disheartened, wish him well
Let him not experience Earthly hell
Make his mood better, worse do not
Then he will be angry, and you will have thought
If only you had listened to me
You wouldn’t suffer this pain and agony
If someone’s afraid just reassure him
That you are a human, not a Kraken
Go near him and talk with him you may
But never a loud or unpleasant word you shall say
The fear is coming down, it’s still not gone
Just one pint of pressure can make it go all wrong
If someone needs your help but he cannot speak it out
Go to him and tell him to blabber it very loud
Then tell him what you can try to do
If you cannot, just make up a point or two
He’s your friend, your help he needs
By helping him, your friendship will germinate, just like a seed
Though difficult at first trust slowly builds
Even deeper than the oceans, or higher than the hills
If someone wants to no longer be your friend
You should bring the friendship to an end
Pleading just heats up the argument
Just keep touch with him to an extent
And when opportunities rise and they will
Your enmity, you can kill
By impressing him to the full extent
And making sure that his heart is content
You can bring your friendship back
Then ask what quality’s you lack
Then just work to make the bad things better
They will come in handy later
So now I told you what to and what not to do
Reading minds is what I taught you!

Copyright © Shroyon Dasgupta | Year Posted 2014

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Yodelin' Cowboy

Hank was a hard workin' cowpoke who really earned his meager pay.
He rode his *** Old Red from early dawn 'til at night he hit the hay,
Fixin' fences, ropin' steers and brandin' dogies in the old corral,
But he had an odd addiction that gnawed on his pard's morale!

He was a happy yodler which is alright fer a wrangler I suppose,
But his irritatin' warblin' caused him to nearly come to blows!
At night in the bunkhouse he would even yodel in his sleep,
Addin' to the din of his pals who were known fer snorin' deep!

His yodelin' caused cattle to stampede and hosses to buck and neigh.
Caused chickens to cease layin' aigs and cantankerous mules to bray!
Porkers squealed in their sty and the hounds barked and howled,
His comrades raged and cussed and the cats all hissed and yowled!

Even rattlesnakes were flustered and slithered to hide in dens,
And bands of coyotes skulked to seek cover in the nearby fens.
Frenzied birds vacated their cozy nests and fled to distant climes,
And Cookie got upset since the guys couldn't hear his supper chimes!

The grizzled old ranch boss called Hank aside fer a serious session,
Sayin', "Son, you're creatin' havoc 'round hyar with yer damn obsession!
Take yer *** and yodler to swoon the gals at the Dry Gulch Saloon,
'Cause if'n you keep it up 'round hyar, you'll hit the road and soon!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2015

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.



I used to smile

every time you came back home

I never knew

that to you

I was just being clueless

I thought I was your little brother

but I had to wonder

when I heard

the truth by uncle

that you are an imposter

there was no other

you had to go and pretend

how long have you known ?

No ! I won’t be fooled again

you should have told me yourself

but no it is the end

your little brother don’t exist

now stay I insist

you can say that I am cold

yet it was from me a life you stole

sorry mama I love you

but this betrayer has got to go

never mind that I’ll hit the road …


Copyright © Phatt Matt | Year Posted 2015

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Dog

My dog is not a manly dog,
she’s my dog just the same
A manly dog rides in a truck
and retrieves the hunted game

My dog, she is a lady dog…
when we got her she was small
A little puff of fluffy fur…
all wrapped up in a ball!

They told us she would stay that way,
but her waistline it went south!
Everything that hits the floor
just ends up in her mouth!

A cookie here and a cracker there
now she’s a butterball.
And when she steps up on the scale,
the Vet’s face says it all!

I love the Pit Bulls’ bully grin
I love the Labrador
I love the Husky’s arrogance
And Sheep Dogs even more

But none of them would last a day
In my Dutch wife’s clean abode
But Mollie she has passed the test
and has never hit the road

I sure don’t feel real manly
when I take her for a walk
The neighbors they just kind of grin
But deep inside they mock

“That big ol’ guy; that little dog”…
I feel like such a sap!
Mollie really does belong
asleep on Grandma’s lap!

Now she’s getting on in years
her jump is not so high
She really hates to get her bath
when soap gets in her eye

The day will come when Mollie dies
and yes I’ll get  choked up
Remembering my little puff
who once was just a pup!

David Kettler
March 23rd 2011

Copyright © david kettler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Jam Jar

Listen to poem:
You're the jam in my jar 
And you fill my sugar bowl 
Candy kisses from afar 
And the sweetness in your soul 

You're the apple in my pie 
You're the pecan in my tart 
You’re the sparkle in my eye 
And the pounding in my heart 

Oh, you make my day complete 
For your loving I would die 
You're the one makes me sweet 
All the others made me cry 

You're my world, have you heard 
One and only cherry blossom 
Like the sky is to a bird 
And the night time to a possum 	

You're the angel in my morning
Spreads her wings to start my day
You're the devil in my dream
Helps me pass the night away

You're the aim of my adore 
You're the eye of my amaze 
Couldn't love you anymore 
You're the fancy of my craze

You're the one for my affection 
You're the picture of perfection 
Hand in hand, we'll hit the road 
Don't much matter what direction 

There'll be so much to explore 
And together we'll go far 
Gotta get me to your door 
And my jam into your jar 

Copyright © Mike Martin | Year Posted 2016

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.



You hit me a bit on the 3rd round
I'm not easy to knock on the ground
Literarily I'm still on my feet
In poetry, there are no side effects
Still your words have no sound

I came out of nowhere, like a threat
Your mind blew a cold sweat
Like a cigarette, I smoked you:-(
I made you sit on your poo
You don't have what it takes for Russian Roulette:-(

I put your file in a shame book
Stuck you in a cell hole, like a crook
My identity I give it a twirl
My only pearls  found in a Play Girl
Between my legs, take one last look:-) 

Gareth, permission to call a lawyer
Surrender your pen, to the destroyer
Apparently this you did not enjoy
Sentence of community service, WATERBOY!!
Under the supervision, "I am your new employer."

You had your head start
You miss like a blind dart
Now you called the last stop
Unfortunate I'm on top
Vultures devouring sweet flesh, 
spit your words out like a fart.

On your second round, cutting you slack.
Are you done with the Anxiety attack:-(
A fountain pen, paper, packed by your Mother.
She threw them out by the gutter.
Mr James, time is up, hit the road, Jack.

just struck back.

NOTE: (-: fun.:-)

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Today is Our Day

Today we have nothing better to do
So let’s hit the road, Babe, going nowhere,
Let’s take a dirt road, just me and you,
We can put the top down and feel the wind in our hair,
It doesn’t matter where we end up as long as your there;

There is no place that I’d rather be,
The road stretches out for miles on end,
Let’s park by the river, just you and me,
And watch the water run around the bend,
There is no better way for our day to end!

Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2011

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Why Did I

A few days past, at a stop sign
Eager to hit the road,
Waiting at the back of the line
And obligated to return by nine.
To my hypocrisy, this is an ode.

See, I hope for a world of giving
Where needs are always met
Where sins can find forgiving
And all are peacefully living
Though I’ve done something I regret.

For, as I pulled up to the street
I was approached by another,
Who wore no shoes upon his feet
I thought a thought of pure conceit,
How could I call you, brother?

He raised a soiled hand to wave
His weary eyes found mine
If I’d had cash I might’ve gave
But sit and talk, I wouldn’t brave.
Certainly, he’d be fine.

See, I hope for a world of giving
Where needs are always met
Where sins can find forgiving
And all are peacefully living
So how did I forget?

I hit the gas and sped away
And watched in the rear-view
Why I did it, I can’t convey
And in the mirror he faded away
A scene I’ll ever rue.

If anything within my mind
His form is amplified
Hauntingly, the thing I find,
within guilt’s prison, now confined
I nurse remorse unsatisfied.

See, I hope for a world of giving
Where needs are always met
Where sins can find forgiving
And all are peacefully living
So why did I forget?
Why did I forget?


Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Fair weather parents

“It’s all in a day’s work
 Tryin’ hard to defend
 The time that I spend alone.”
     ~ Chaka Khan, “What ‘Cha Gonna Do For Me” from the album  UNSUPPORTED CODE What ‘Cha Gonna Do For Me UNSUPPORTED CODE  (1981)
We drop him off at daycare
And pick him up at night,
Then television programs air – 
He watches them till night.
We’re busy with our business
And friendly with our friends;
He cries too much – for these fits
That’s why they make playpens.
At night when we’re all tired
We stick him in his room,
In mornings he’s attired
To hit the road – zoom zoom!
We look at him and smile,
A cute and lovely sight – 
No worries all the while
Since everything’s all right.

He never sucked from boobies,
The milk had too much fat;
Besides, the office cubies
Just weren’t the place for that.
Breasts are a bad suggestion,
He did just fine on grain;
If it caused indigestion
The experts would explain,
So baby food would clearly
Have left them out.  He knows
We care for him as dearly
As any one of those
Few moms who tried breastfeeding – 
Milk isn’t fancy wine –
He got what he was needing
And everything’s just fine.

The trouble’s with the teachers
These kids cut up so much
He sits beneath the bleachers
To hide from jerks and such.
They shoved him down a stairway
And left him in a cast,
Another school will someday
Make all of it the past.
He’s had his tonsils pulled out
And his appendix too,
His doctors are good, no doubt:
They charge enough for two.
Some scars and scrapes don’t matter
Each day we rise and shine
Won’t bring a silver platter
But everything’s just fine.

We wouldn’t treat him as a friend.
The reason’s plain to see.
We’ve got to train him to contend
All independently.
The sooner he learns what’s allowed
And lets all else just be
The sooner that he’ll make us proud
In this society.
We also wouldn’t spare the rod
If it would be the way
To make his soul all well with God
And teach him to obey.
The weather’s not been anything
But pretty, fair, and bright.
There’s nothing worth remembering
But just what’s gone all right.

We hardly see him these days,
He’s got his own career
Though he knows he could always
Stop by here every year.
We’d like to meet his daughter
Before she’ll be all grown;
At least for now we’ve bought her
Some books to call her own.
We could’ve gone ourselves there –
The flight’s long, we expect –
But we’ll sit home and won’t care
Till he shows more respect.
We sure raised him to be good,
To stand up straight and fight
On his own feet, and that should
Make everything all right.

Copyright © Thanks Returns | Year Posted 2014

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Horny Toad

Said his lover to the horny toad:

"Buster, you can hit the road!

A 'horny' Romeo you ain't,

And here's the basis of my complaint!

I don't know why they call you 'horny'!

'Tis a gross misnomer and is so very corny!

When it comes to romance you are dead!

You're about as sensual as a loaf of moldy bread!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved

For those not acquainted with horny toads.  They are a species that sport horns on
their heads, therefore, called horned or horny toads and are quite common here in
Colorado.  I have no personal knowledge of a "horny" toad's sexual activities but 
apparently the little lady toadette in this poem is upset about it!

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2013

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

This is the Wild West

All dusty and dirty with the sand on the teeth,
All day in the saddle and I'm always in the business,
Colt me - as a father, as a bullet - as a mother,
From birth I was taught to kill.

For the money is ready for any job
Fishing, killing a raccoon
Build a dam, to get dynamite,
Thief to catch, you find pyrite.

I can get it for a penny corn
Sorry did not grow up here big watermelons.
But there is a saloon, where ever you are happy
It poured whiskey and lipstick stain,
Beautiful virgins passionate pleasures,
Are all night kiss.

And in the morning to hit the road again,
Job search, then to rest,
Although it is better to enter the face bullies
And you can beat the Indians in the tavern,
Full of knuckles, caressing my Colt
I loaded all the two hundred and twenty volts.

Bloody flower growing in her eyes,
Now they will meet only in our dreams.
Yes, revenge, but has not become easier,
After all, together with the decline of the soul dies.

This is the Wild West, there is no place for the weak,
Here the people involved from the hard dough
Worker, Indian, laborer and the thief
To finish our conversation.

Copyright © Nick Dylan | Year Posted 2013

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

It's time for a vacay:

I have my suitcase and bag filled with cute clothes and a camera.
I have a car full of my closest friends and a full tank of gas.
It's time to hit the road and just drive all the way to Samara.

Its a little town in Costa Rica
where the wine flows like a river
and the people dance until there knees grow weak!

The sands are warm
the drinks are strong
the music bellows while people swarm. 

My hair thrown back
my sun dress tightly tied around my neck
I hook arms with my best friends as we scan the bars food racks.

I have a shiver run up my neck as the foam of the ocean laps at my feet.
I spot a handsome Costa Rican and give him a grin. 
I decide it's time that we actually meet. 

We dance and we dance
we drink and we swim
before the night's out I discover a new and burning romance.

Thank you Cost Rica for my wonderful vacation
I'll be sure to come back 
and discover a brand new sensation!

Roxanna Johnson
Vacation contest

Copyright © Roxanna johnson | Year Posted 2011

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Indian Giver's Quick Fix

When the heart I gave wholly to you
was stomped on and then ripped in two,
I took it right back.
So hit the road, Jack!
I'll be good once I find Super Glue.

For P.D.'s Indian Giver Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.


At three a.m. the annoying telephone rings “Hurricane Kate will soon be making landfall; Drive to Panama City, start collecting your things” Microphones and tape recorders, I pack them all Just one week till the end of hurricane season “Thanksgiving’s coming,” I grouse as I hit the road Scrub pines twist furiously; I know the reason Five months of calm weather, but now the motherload A drive that is usually two hours now takes five Lightning strikes everywhere, brightening the night sky Approaching the beach, I’m lucky to be alive I sit in fascination; the waves are so high The fisherman’s pier collapses into the sea A spin-off tornado tears the roof off a school Disoriented, a man wades through the debris I invite him to my car so we can seek safety A vivid bolt of lightning sends him to his knees He covers his ears as thunder roars ominously I toss my raincoat over him, watching him freeze He can’t tune out the noise and acts irrationally When we arrive at the emergency center People gather round him and I ask who he is “We call him Crazy Mazy,” says the director, “He served in Vietnam, many medals are his.” With Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, he’s homeless Living on the streets, Captain Jim Mazy seemed strange The locals knew him well and offered him kindness But to outsiders like me, he appeared deranged For seventy-two hours, I stayed on the air Talking to officials and those who assisted As death reports came in, we bowed our heads in prayer When I tried to talk to Mazy, he resisted It was he I remembered most when I drove home Members of the Capital Press Corps united No longer on the street would this veteran roam Compassion for a war hero had been ignited Habitat for Humanity gladly pitched in As did the public, when Mazy’s story was broadcast Never again would he writhe in a hurricane’s din Storms were behind him, Mazy had a home at last
*True account, written June 28, 2014

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Under Pressure

Here stands a man who's just about to blow a gasket,
he has far too much washing in his basket,
he never asked for such a load,
and he feels it's time to hit the road,
before he does something he regrets,
I wouldn't be placing any bets,
on him sticking around for much longer,
the feelings inside him are growing stronger,
by the second, by the minute,
he really feels he's landed in it.
And all because his employment,
takes all his time, negates enjoyment,
he feels that it is sucking him dry,
and he really has the urge to fly,
to get away from his wage slave life,
the daily back watching, for the knife,
that is often stuck into the unwary,
the workplace is becoming very scary.
No loyalty exists there any more,
I think a lot of people know the score.
A numbers game is all it is,
the bottom line, do the biz,
because if you slow down, there are many,
worse off than you, who to make a penny,
they'd gladly jump into your shoes,
and ensure their gain, would mean you lose!

Copyright © Tom Higgins | Year Posted 2012

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.


With your two feet, you’re sure to go
Anywhere from, anywhere to
Though time would pass more than you do
You’re sure that home would welcome you
Steadily sped, along each path
Slowly you move, your breadth in guard
No engine fails or fluids leak,
No rubber burnt, or tyres weak
Through harsh sunshine, better when mild
Or in the snow, not the fierce kind
Anywhere from, anywhere to,
With your two feet, you’re sure to go

With your two feet you’re sure to go
Just hit the road before cock-crow
First, loneliness would be your friend
Till sun would rise from the east end
In race, fast steps, or faltering
That’s what your speed would determine
No refill stops and no car wash
No traffic jams, no police stops
Straight off, you go, steadily so
One pact between you and the road
Just hit the road before cock-crow
With your two feet, you’re sure to go.

Copyright © Dominic Amezimi | Year Posted 2013

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Early Riser

             Dear early riser, wave goodbye 
            To last night's dream. Relinquish 
            The cares and woes of yesterday
                  Wholeheartedly embrace 
             The waiting day with open arms

               Be the Christopher Columbus
           Of this new day. Go forth and greet 
         The morning. Be the first to breathe in 
                Dawn's fresh air and listen to 
                        Birds sing merrily

                  Hit the road while the world 
                 Is still fast asleep. Be the first 
               To arrive at destination wherever
              Head out with your body and spirit 
                            Carpe diem! 
                            Carpe diem! 
                            Carpe diem!


Copyright © Edward Ibeh | Year Posted 2016

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Steeped in Stars

White moon-

I set my boats free in your bay.
I wound them up and they all sailed away.
From here to the Milky Way.

I don't know all the answers,
but when I stood 
to walk away
someone put poison
into my cup of love.

So, I headed out to 
where the stars burned brighter,
when I hit the road...

I lost my cigarette lighter.

Steeped in stars
like a warm cup of tea.
I want to swim in your
Sea of Tranquility.

So, I boarded the last boat
and I am making my way--

to navigate the stars,
to taste the Milky Way.

I'll be rising when the 
sun decides to set.
I asked her to remember me,
because, her?
I'll never forget!

Copyright © red barchettadrive | Year Posted 2015

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.

It's You Again

I hear someone a-knockin’ at my door,
It’s you again, have we not had enough?
The problem is a complete lack of respect,
Well, your disfavor is shared no need to bluff.

I am much smarter aware of the tricks,
It’s you again, these guiles made me tough,
The problem is your way or just hit the road,
Well, your roadway is rigid spited with rough.

I grew my growth away from your tree,
It’s you again, rage hidden by fluff,
The problem is kindred but with spirit lost,
Well, your heart lacks craze among lovin’ stuff.

I insist you go with that same ol’ leave,
It’s you again, blazing amidst all the slough,
The problem is clear with no extra toll,
Well, your smoke is long gone merely a puff.

Contest Entry: Desperate Housewife
Sponsored by: Poet Destroyer A
Placement: 7th Place

Copyright © Jesse Day | Year Posted 2016

Details | Hit The Road Poem | Create an image from this poem.



"I'm told I'm free to try, so try I did,
    but then the shrewd wins with the highest bid;
        I'm tired of being told that I am free,
            living free is the worst jail term for me."

These were what our friend, Honesto had said
    to drunken ears of addled, groggy heads;
        teasing him, we laughed and shouted, "Come here,
            Philosopher, beat it, knock down your beer!"

We knew the guy was simply down and out,
    his eyes betrayed his raging silent shout;
        the gang screamed, "Why don't you give life a taste?
            Philosophizing's such a wasteful waste."

"It's best for you and us to laugh and drink,
    kick out them blues and woes, don't brood, don't think;
        cursing your fate and the world's but a trash,
            we've got our beer, brother, and lots of cash!"

"Tonight let's smash some doors and hit the road,
    rev up them hot engines, burn down the load;
        let's break some wise guys' ribs and crack a nose,
            a boring thrill, but man, that's how life goes!"

Honesto swayed, stood up, drew out a knife,
    and from his bleeding wrists oozed out his life;
        we thought it was just a quick tipsy trick,
            but he died, leaving us guiltily sick.


Copyright © romeo naces | Year Posted 2011