Best License Plate Poems
Early 60’s feeling my oats, slow moving wasn’t my bag
56 Chevy, foot to the floor, looking for someone to drag
He’s a Rebel on the radio, smell of gasoline was strong
Marked off a stretch of highway, exactly one mile long
I made my way to the starting line, foot getting heavy
Ford was revving up hot, but nothing beats my Chevy
There’s no feeling on earth like starting to drag
Her sweater on a stick was our checkered flag
I said I’d like to hang around but I’ve got a hot date
So while you’re driving that Ford, read my license plate
I slammed my foot to the floor and could feel the thrust
When I looked in the mirror, the Ford was eating my dust
Next Sunday morning, I was on the way to see my girl
I saw a Nash Rambler and thought I’d give him a whirl
I pulled along side him as we approached a mile long hill
Thinking that beating his butt would give me a thrill
Now I looked over at him, smiled and waved good bye
Then he waved back and I thought I would cry
There was no way it should happen the Rambler went pop
I was half way up the hill, he was over the top.
Instead of seeing my girl, I drove all around town
Trying to find the car that put my Chevy down
The fastest thing I had ever seen moving on dry land
I just wanted to find the driver for a chance to shake his hand
Sometimes I think of times we had, drag racing way back then
Though I searched for years I never saw that Nash Rambler again
When I was young, sometimes I’d get to go
to our town’s theater, where I would see
a curtain open up, then a long show
much better than the ones on my tv!
The seats inside this place were plush and red,
and there were lots of them row after row!
Small stars were on the ceiling overhead.
I felt enchanted by their magic glow.
With tales like “Sparticus,” so mesmerized
I’d sit and savor every movie plot.
Were movies a religion, I’d get baptized.
I love all types and I love them a lot!
I left for college. Foreign films I saw
with subtitles, and those I saw for free.
The themes were deep and filled my soul with awe.
The greatest film buff I had come to be.
Some forty years ago, I started to
see at least one movie every week
at a theater when they’re brand new.
And dramas most unusual I seek.
TGIF was on my license plate -
“Thank God It’s Friday” because I live for
my Friday matinees, and I can’t wait
to write reviews of movies I adore.
For years I have reviewed the films I’ve seen
on Facebook and at one time with my own
column in a poetry magazine!
And by the way, most shows I see alone.
My spouse hates going out and is not free
to go with me when I have days off, so
I’ll ask a movie buddy. Usually
she’s busy, but I’m fine just going solo!
I have other passions such as poetry,
e-mailing friends and striving for good health.
But once a week the “big screen” I must see.
Of movie plots, my brain contains a wealth!
Dec. 19, 2017 for the Meraki Contest of Silent One
Who are you ~ I ask?
The grim reaper am I, came the reply.
I say ~ I'm not dying or dead.
So you say, came the reply.
So why have you come this way?
I am surely not done with my life.
Though I did not hear a reply.
Out of the silence came a voice.
It was not weak ~ it was not low.
And it was not loud ~
I sat up straight as a pin.
Just so I could take it all in.
So you say ~ came the reply again.
And he went on to say ~
Have you not read the news today?
He said he read it in the headlines,
On this very day, ~ was his reply.
There was a car pile- up,
Down on fourth and Maine.
License plate read DOA- today.
And I see you sitting in front
Of me ~ on this very day.
So it must be true.
I'm here just for you!
I gave you the tale of my computer
Last month
All is working.......
Well sort of.
And again it came down to me to put in a network card.
It put up a stubborn fight
But two days later I MADE IT WORK!
It really wasn't that hard
But there were other things
Like licenses for the vehicles and me
Mine was the problem
My birth certificate name was different you see.
I had had it changed
But who knows in what state
The lawyer said "shoot
The one on your birth certificate will do.".
The Kansas license was personalized
And a beautiful thing
I decided I'd keep it
And one day put it out for all to see.
When I removed it
I brought it inside
Washed and dried it
And set it aside.
One evening Shirlee and Fred came by
On their way home from work
I wasn't here but they left some no, no's
For my dessert.
The next day they came by to give me a ride
It was off to garage sales we would go
Shirlee looked at me and said
"Mom is that your idea of a joke?"
I didn't pick up on what she meant
And she pointed toward the stove.
" I mean ," she said "Do you intend to leave your
License plate up there?"
I told you it was special,
I didn't want it to get hurt
So I placed it on the vent
Above the cook stove to make sure.
It was tan
And a buffalo stood with pride
The letters C I L E
Were printed on it's side.
I still didn't get the drift
Until she pointed to the four little words
And Read
"HOME ON THE RANGE."
I had to sit down
I was laughing so hard
And when I think back
I still get a charge.
I haven't yet found my home on the range
But I'll tell you this my friends
Following the next four lines
You can add the word, AMEN
No more cooking
I am through
If you can't use the micro wave
BOO HOO!
Cile Beer
Her license plate read, "Look Up"
Heaven blessed her dirty tires
As she rolled along highways
Clinging to her faith
Colorado is renown fer the majestic Rockies a-reachin' fer the sky.
Now, 'tis better known fer sittin' 'round, smokin' pot and gittin' high!
Visitors used to come to see Pikes Peak and The Garden Of The Gods.
Nowadays, they seek out cannabis shops wherein to spend their wads!
Some fellers gave up plantin' corn and melons to grow marijuana,
To reap the profits sellin' maryjane to folks a-seekin' their nirvana!
Now, in lieu of the scent of pine, the odious odor of pot pervades the air.
Glassy-eyed dudes stroll about pollutin' the air without a worldly care!
I'm chagrined to travel out-of-state sportin' a Colorado license plate.
Makes me real 'proud' to be called a denizen of The Centennial State!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Time to load up the family Dodge and hit the open road.
Our backs to California, the wheels rolling east towards the deep south.
Arriving by plane wasn’t an option, the car was our only transportation mode.
My older brother pulls my hair and a yelp escapes my thin mouth.
Our backs to California, the wheels rolling east towards the deep south.
Country greats like Strait, McEntire, and Alabama blaring through the radio.
My older brother pulls my hair and a yelp escapes my thin mouth.
Mom and Dad won’t get a break and my car sickness is touch-and-go.
Country greats like Strait, McEntire, and Alabama blaring through the radio.
Travel bingo and the license plate game forever etched in my brain.
Mom and Dad won’t get a break and my car sickness is touch-and-go.
Three days to get there and three days back without rain.
Travel bingo and the license plate game forever etched in my brain.
Big rigs honking as my eager arm pumped up and down from the back seat.
Three days to get there and three days back without rain.
Eating piles of junk food on the road was always a real treat.
Travel bingo and the license plate game forever etched in my brain.
Arriving by plane wasn’t an option, the car was our only transportation mode.
Three days to get there and three days back without rain.
Time to load up the family Dodge and hit the open road.
Contest: A RHYMING PANTOUM OF FIVE STANZAS (6th place)
Sponsored by: L Milton Hankins
Date of poem: May 12, 2022
Got a notice in the mail
That made my blood run sour,
Announcing “City of New York
Versus Ilene Bauer.”
Inside the envelope there was
A 50 dollar fine
With photos of a car attached
Whose license plate was mine.
It seems our speed was 36
But we were near a school
So 25 is what’s allowed;
My husband broke the rule.
Oh yes – although my name appeared,
He was behind the wheel.
The registration lists just me,
So this is how I feel…
Annoyed to get a ticket when
We didn’t have a clue
That a camera on a pole replaced
What policemen used to do.
My vexation, though, is also ‘cause
The ticket bears my name
For the City of New York assumes
That I’m the one to blame!
I went to a museum Saturday
enjoying art with daughter, friend, and wife.
It was our daughter's 30th birthday-
a lovely way to celebrate her life!
Then clouds descended on our afternoon.
Discovering, returning to my car
some driver turned the corner far too soon
and mashed my fender, leaving a black scar.
But, lest the hit-and-run scar irritate,
two witnesses displaying kindness, wrote
the color, model, make, and license plate,
and left it on my windshield as a note.
Discouraged by one driver's thoughtlessness
Encouraged by two witnesses' largesse.
written 3 Apr 2023
Let’s take a
Road trip
Together.
I want to go
Far away,
Maybe
Even to
Outer space
Where we can
Race the stars
Across
The night sky-
I’ll fly you
Around
On clouds,
Drift soft
On winds
Or burrow
Deep in the
Ground-
A landmark
Unto myself-
I’ll show you my
Favorite things
And
Kisses in the rain,
Point out the places
That I have been,
And which ones
I’d rather never
See again.
We’ll sing songs
Like lullabies
And drive
The days away-
The important part
Is that
I’m with you,
And my home
Is sitting in the seat
Next to me.
If we get pulled over,
Remind me
To get my head
Out of the clouds
And watch my hands
As they go near the seat,
I’m only getting a wallet
To show my ID
But we’re in a white man’s
Territory
And they already
Follow me,
Pull up beside
The 7-11 to watch
What I walk
Into,
Convenience stores
Are on alert
And sometimes
White people
See our license plate
And follow right behind,
Tailgate up
On my bumper
Till we leave
Their
State lines
And
A little ways past that too.
Just ignore
It,
I know you’ll say,
But I’ll make sure
We make it safe
To a nice hotel
Where we can stay.
I’ll get us a room on the
Third floor
So I only have to watch
The door
I won’t sleep and
You’ll take the bed-
And when you are well
Rested,
We’ll get in the car again.
Drive into sunsets
And great canyons
And see all the things
That make up the
Free land we’re in-
Living
With one eye
Scanning the
Horizon
To see if we need
To get on the road
Again,
I’m double checking
Every blind spot
For ghosts
With pale skin-
I guess
What I'm trying to say
Is that
Our freeways
Are an open range
And I’m just
Standing in the way….
You know what,
I don’t want
To go on a road trip,
Lets just stay inside
Where it is a bit
Safer.
I can not imagine what this Officer in New York City was thinking at the time of this Parking Violation. You would think when an officer writes a Parking Violation, he or she would interact with the Driver who is being ticketed. Well that is not the case in this incident. The Officer approached the vehicle and noticed the vehicle was parked in a No Parking Zone. He approached the vehicle from behind and wrote down the License Plate of the vehicle. The person inside the vehicle was silent, just sitting there. He didn't say a word. I wonder what the Officer was thinking when the ticketed person didn't give him an excuse, to try and persuade the Officer not to give him the Citation. Well the Officer wrote the ticket and placed the ticket on his dashboard, and walked away, got into his Patrol Car and left.
A day or two later the Officers Commanding Officer called him into his office. He asked him, " did you issue a ticket several days ago to a Mr Rappoid, for Illegal Parking at such and such a time?" The Officer said," let me check my notes." He checked his notes and said, "yes." The Commanding Officer asked him, "You didn't notice anything in particular with Mr Rappoid?" The Officer asks his Commander, "Why?" His Commander responded, with a loud and angry voice. "Well because at the time you gave Mr Rappoid the ticket Rigor Mortis had set in and he was sitting Up and he was dead!" "Your the first Officer I know, that has written a Parking Citation to a Dead man, sitting dead in his Vehicle!"
The C.O.P. (Cop On Patrol) by Robert Allison
One day I was driving in my car,
But I hadn't drove very far.
When I was scared out of my might,
By a pair of red and blue lights.
Well, I thought the cop just wanted to race,
But actually it was me, he was trying to chase.
So, of course, I had to stop,
When up came a big, tall cop.
I said "Hi, how do you do?"
He said "OK, and same to you."
"This ticket's for your car's racket,
And for no license plate bracket."
I said "I hope this ticket's free."
He said "Nope, that'll cost a big fifty."
I thought it was me he was trying to con,
And I said "Aw, now, Come on!"
He said "Don't give me none of yo' jive,
Or else it'll cost ya seventy five!"
So then I headed towards home,
In my shiny piece of chrome.
My mom came after me with a broom,
And said "Now you, get to your room!"
Well, I had already started to sob,
Because I knew I needed a job.
But, I sure hated the thought of work,
Because I knew I'd feel like a jerk.
The job I got, I know is mine.
And I sure feel so fine.
I'm sure glad that ticket wasn't free,
'Cause now I am an EMPLOYEE !
A chilly mist hung in the air that Sunday morning in April when I pulled up in front of Harpers Grove Community Church. The gravel parking lot was rapidly filling up, and folks, nodding cordially to each other, were threading their way through neat rows of parked cars. Several young men, lingering over a last cigarette, checked out the strange car with the out-of-state license plate. When the last one ground out his smoke beneath new wingtips and disappeared into the vestibule, I stepped out of my car to get a better look at the churchyard.
It was much as I remembered it. The giant oak still towered precariously over the narthex. The mulberry bushes and hedging were sprouting seasonally, and faded daffodils clung to overgrown stalks. An atmosphere of unkemptness pervaded the place, but I couldn't quite determine what made it seem so. The sloped slate roof obviously needed attention.
The old whitewashed privies had disappeared, and, in some previous year, an educational wing had been tacked onto the rear of the frame building, brick and businesslike. Essentially, however, it was the same church house I had come to from the day I was born until our family moved away during my first year in high school.
EIGHTH PLACE WINNER
September 21, 2022
Submitted to "Chapter 1 Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Matt Caliri
Life is too short to be worrying about he said she said
It only starts problems and drama and the fire soon starts to spread
Yet the truth never unrolls its self like a spool of thread
And the results are friendships and relationships start to crumble and mold like a loaf of bread
People are so caught up in making and believing all the lies
It’s like they get a high for telling all the lies
What do people think they get the Noble Prize?
You have people looking at you asking why
Why do people like making people cry
Who are you trying to be in disguise?
In reality here is some advice
Liars, fakes, cheaters, abusers, and wanna bes are nobodies in real peoples eyes
So lets break away from all the hate
There is no reason to discriminate
To walk the beat of your own drum is a skillful trait
Everyone is different like a car license plate
Its okay to be always changing like a discount rate
People need to realize in there is a due date
You never know when it is, so don’t wait
Live your life to the greatest rather it be with or without fate
This may lead to a debate
Yet if everyone could come together, we could all cross home plate
Moral to life, is that it is too short
Practice and play hard like it is a sport
Pretend that you are living on a resort
And everyone you come across is like a friend of some sort
We all need to be escorts
And treat everyone with love, respect, and kindness like it’s our last resort
Now let’s end this on a good report
And stop all the hate and negativity and start giving some support
Any thoughts or comments?
Suffering And Pain
Walking to the store is an ordinary boring undertaking
It requires a list, some time and spending money
And very little else
They say it is easier than war
It takes no skill, no one gets killed for sure
But when some idiot runs you over with their SUV
On the sidewalk in the light of day
While drinking coffee, texting, reading comics
And driving at great speed
Then something must be said
Their pleasure is your pain and suffering
No one gets out of life alive. That’s understood
And undertakers must survive
There is no escape from here or from their kind
Perhaps if you used your vehicle for shopping
Things would turn out better
But I’m sure there is a meteor out there
With your name and license plate remembered