Best Motorists Poems
Driving home in the dark through blinding rain
Hassles at the office plaguing my brain
Longing to escape life in the fast lane
Motorists are cussing with words profane
From shouting back, I struggle to refrain
Car mirror shows my forehead’s bulging vein
Sense of sanity I try to maintain
My heart races and I’m feeling chest pain
What is the point I try to ascertain
Thoughts of ending it I now entertain
To repel these notions I have to strain
Remembering Jesus never complained
Entry for the March Madness Contest
MISSING PERSON
Saw him sitting on the curb weeping,
pompous parades of the self righteous
passing “his” children – in disgust.
Eyes glistened through the tears
hands trembling as if to control himself
he rose – as if to speak….
was jostled by passersby, cursed at
by glassed in motorists, mocked
by the children on a passing school bus.
Approaching the synagogue
he was rebuffed by the rabbi,
a relived experience.
The churches, gilded doors locked,
advertised Sunday services
and a trip to Fox Woods Casino.
Saw him sitting on the curb weeping
accompanied by a stray dog
that licked the wounds in his hands.
John G. Lawless
10/26/2015
cornflower's bloom
beside a tarred road
stalking buttercups
across the way
motorists pass
unseeing souls
toward unknown sights
On a busy Marescaux Road where
No one cared for an injured dog,
Where motorists do not come to a slow,
And honking horns hammer
As impatient traffic competes toe to toe,
There on the asphalted heat
The painful cry of a wounded creature
Pierced through the peak-hour hub of the street.
Out into the throbbing traffic
The Wolmarian girl stepped
Caring none except
for that injured dog– whimpering, pleading,
Fighting with its final breaths.
And the honking swelled and motorists yelled.
From their faces, I could discern
They were void of an iota of concern.
Above the chaos, I heard her whisper
Gentle reassurance to the timid creature.
The Wolmarian girl bent
and slowly lifted her casualty
And walked back to the sidewalk
With ceremonious dignity.
And I have always wished to be as brave as she
Who defied the odds to honour her humanity.
GLISTENING GOKARNA
This scenic beauty, a grand temple town
Seated in the Arabian Sea like a golden crown
Bedecked on its bosom the blue beaches festoon
To name a few- Kudle, Paradise,Om and Half moon
Plays host to a galore of global tourists
Adventure enthusiasts and also motorists
Its a Sanskrit hub; has temples ancient opulent
Spirituality, Vedic chants have sprayed its sweet scent
The gracious mountains line the beaches pristine
Verdant vegetation like emerald has draped it green
Coconut fronds along the shores sway in gentle breeze
Colourful narrow streets and shacks to you please with ease
Savoring the magic of Sunrise and Sunset on the yellow sand
Makes you get lost in trance attaining bliss with its magic wand
In the twilight’s crimson red a natural painting of the retreating birds…
And fishing boats dancing with waves cannot be explained with words!
8th November 2016
My Kind of Town - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Janis Thompson
Notes:
Gokarna is a small temple town on the western coast of India in Uttara Kannada district of the state of Karnataka. Gokarna in Kannada language (my mother tongue) means Cow's ear.
Vedic chant-The oral tradition of the Vedas (Srauta) consists of several pathas, "recitations" or ways of chanting the Vedic mantras. Such traditions of Vedic chant are often considered the oldest unbroken oral tradition in existence, the fixation of the Vedic texts (samhitas) as preserved dating to roughly the time of Homer (early Iron Age).UNESCO proclaimed the tradition of Vedic chant a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity on November 7, 2003.
A missed countryside.
Tunnel-vision motorists,
Race to smoke city
FLOODING EMERGENCY IN HOUSTON. HURRICANE HARVEY dumping 25 inches rain on Houston and other cities like Rockport, Corpus Christi, Victoria and HARVEY won't leave till Thursday, so storms not over. NEWS NOW shows people stranded, highway is flooded and motorists are stuck. Live video shows many cars under water and motorists walking knee-deep in water on highway. STUCK STUCK STUCK. People out wading in water and CAN'T go forward and can't back up. Power lines down, buildings, homes churches blown apart and electricity off; people in the dark. Hundreds of people bundled together in shelters.
NEWS said many people have climbed onto their roofs because their homes are under water with living area insided house flooded like victims did in New Orleans in Katrina Hurricane. Looks like Katrina all over again, and looks like Hurricane Harvey skipped Louisiana and East coast this time and struck TEXAS.
Roads, streets, highways turned into rivers and we see women, men and children being rescued in boats pulled toward safety by rescuers with water up to their chests. Helicopters flying around trying to lift people to safety, if they can reach individuals without rescuers placing their lives in danger. People need to watch out for snakes that swim in water, and possibly, alligators and other animals.
READ how to survive Mother Nature disasters like thunder lightening storms, earthquakes, horrific hurricanes, tornadoes, etc. NEWS says "Turn around don't drown." BUY NOW life-saving tips are suspenseful, and shocking! WHAT A MESS.
This means people can't go to work, schools, churches, stores or their homes for, perhaps weeks; therefore, will lose income. Many homeowners don't have home and flood insurance and have lost their home being torn up, their pets, and everything they own in this world!
VIEW Adventures of the Heart, a book of short stories sold on www.createspace.com/7022170 and Soothing Words Spoken from the Heart, a book of poetry sold on www.createspace.com/4929895.
A skein of Canadian Geese
fly above snow laden treetops;
Wave after wave crossing the sun
impelled by internal instincts.
Their discordant cacophonies
impel eyes on the ground upward:
young children pause their snowball fights;
Adults halt shoveling their sidewalks;
Motorists at intersections
crane their heads through open windows
straining to see their journey south.
Inharmonious honks fade away
Leaving anserine memories
and winter’s crystalline silence.
Market stall sellers, spewing out cheap tat, for bargain hunting peabrains parting with their cash; items disintegrating from one single use.
City traders impress with tall tales of the day, lapping up each others crap enjoying it's scent and taste; not caring for the common man whose lives they have wrecked.
Office workers looking grey, another mundane day. Sitting at their desks, day-dreaming of a different life while listening to bosses drivel on about deadlines.
Shop workers getting by, mastering people skills, satisfying customers; some are born to please but for others it's just painful.
Buskers playing tunes, some are good, some are not. They enjoy what they do, even to an audience unattentive to the soundtrack of their day.
Beggars in doorways trying to prise money from our wallets but who are the genuine needy? Alcoholics, drug addicts or rich Romanian gangs who treat it as a living.
Cyclists whizz past, jumping the red lights. An obstacle for pedestrians and motorists alike; two wheeled accidents waiting to happen.
Motorists zoom past at speed with arrogance and aggression; the survivors way to driving through city streets. A combination with potential for fatal consequences.
Some walk through the streets, head down, oblivious to all around, focusing on getting to their destination. Others soak it all in; buskers, coffee shops, the bustle of life.
If you're in the city, enjoy the city, even with the smog. Life's too short to be annoyed with the things that irritate us. Embrace what's on offer but accept you'll be ripped off!
I'm just a regular guy with a regular job,
Just your average, run of the mill suburbanite slob.
I drive really slow in the ultra-fast lane,
while motorists behind me are going insane.
I use public toilets and I urinate on the seat
and if by chance in the restroom we do meet,
I'll shake your hand before washing mine guaranteed.
Sometimes I park in handicapped spaces,
while handicapped people make handicapped faces.
I'm obnoxious, stupid, inconsiderate and bold.
I'm an idiot, I'm a moron, I'm an A HOLE!!!
*
All People Have One.
Some People Are One.
*
Dedicated To All Of The A Holes Out There.
Dull, dank depressing Summer Solstice. A pretty chesnut pony ridden by a little girl on
the pavement (sidewalk to our cousins across the Pond) wishing to be a wild rider, but
not along the High Street in this once BLUE Radical part of town if only both were not
escorted on foot by two women, the mother and the child's sister?
Astounded! I said to a bloke pasing by, "That's legal?!" half like a full capon judge, half
like a Radical. The bloke broke into a wry smile, shrugging his shoulders replied, "Don't
intervene". With a pretty white maned pony, two determined women and the little
hoped to be wild rider wearing a blue helmut, I knew that I was on to a loser, as we
say; later in the day when a teenager on a bike blocked the pavement - er sidewalk-
when I and two women, one in a wheelchair and another pushing it could not get by
the cyclis;t, I, 'The Big I Am', as my father in his dotage called me, with no stentorian
tone, but authoritative and polite, he moved! An intervention that worked.
Flabbergasted! When the pretty pony with the white mane and until then co-operative
demeanour move left blocking the side ah, you know what I mean, the mother led
the pony, the so assurred rider in the blue helmet with her elder daughter - all -
onto the road, the pony reared! The mother puzzled said, "She's frightened!"
seemingly not expecting any traffic. The appearance of a pony on a pavement, you
know by now what, getting as busy as bees in midsummer, as narrow as a path across
a field in midsummer, until a semblance of order returned with pedestrians, motorists
and the long suffering pony suffered itself to be led across the road to the safety of the
car park - ur- ing lot of the Baptist chapel where behind lay a graveyard of
Anabaptists, so seriously radical!
To run your car you'd better have big bucks
For these days the price of gas really sucks
You have to have it to get from A to B
And there is no relief ahead that I can see
Sometimes In desperation I ride my bike
Wearing my helmet like a good little tyke
Works okay riding around our small town
But often makes irritated motorists frown
My neighbor's car runs on natural gas
Few stations though-I think I'll have to pass
I guess I'll just keep it up long as I'm able
OMG..what if I have to choose gas or cable?
Copyright © 2015
17.12.2015
5:52pm
In the Banana Republic, you
can meet senorita in the sand.
A day from work, pesos in
hand, head for the sand. No
stress, the women are the best
Pretty senoritas ready to rub
a pirate's chest, chest full
of pirate's loot, and no one
gives a hoot.
Away from slaving everyday, the
discos and beaches are the way,
away from motorists trying to
run over everyone's feet
White men still come to Paradise,
paradise island and sunrise. He
says, island people sure are nice.
No wars, just lots of girls in bars,
and even ugly tourists can be stars.
Many island men sure seem happy with
them old ladies in the sand. They always
come back, leaving ole Sir Jack.
No stress, no mess, the Caribbean Islands
are the best.
by: LPruitt
**(on Facebook w/photo/theme: North Coast Poetry Society)
Day dawns.
Dark clouds gather on the skyline
Looming over the roofs of traffic
Passing on the bridge.
Houseboats lay moored silently
On the still waters of the Thames,
Surrounded by stark buildings;
Houses once so grand,
Inhabited by the select,
Now fallen from grace.
The air is crisp and cool,
Typically October,
Everywhere touched
By the golden hand of autumn
Scattering her dress wantonly;
Leaves skip and dance
Along the pavement,
Swirl around the feet of passers-by
And scurry into the road
Playing catch-me-if-you-can
With the passing cars.
Streets bustle and teem with city folk
Going to and from their destination
Mingling among them
Visitors taking in the sights,
Every now and then stopping
To capture a moment in time....
Dusk creeps down.
The roads now packed
With the hum of angry motorists
Trying to flee from the insanity
Of noise and confusion,
Comforted only by thoughts of
Cosy warmth,
Glowing fires
And the welcoming smell of hot food.
Night falls;
With an expectant buzz,
The city preparing for revellers
Drawn to its bright lights-
Seeking desires of the flesh
(And maybe wants of the heart)
So they eat,drink and be merry,
Then stagger out
Into the darkness
Filled with the nights memories,
Some with tinges of regret.
Eventually a hush descends,
The city sleeps
Comfortable and warm
In Its beds
Fitfully resting
In readiness for morning......
Except for those tucked away;
In some forgotten corner,
Who as winter nights draw in
Face a certainty of struggling
Against biting winds
With just the protection
Of cardboard and paper,
And only the promise of maybe
For the coming tomorrow.
After dining at the finest of Maw and Paw restaurants
Frequented by men in trucks
Outside I slipped on the gravel drive
And as would be my luck
The LARGE cowboy belt I'm so proud of
Latched on and then got stuck
Now I'm off to see America
From the front grill of a Big Mac Truck
From the plains of Plano, Texas
To the hills of Hoboken Plantation, Tennessee
There's not to many places
That Big Mac Truck did not take me
To other motorists I was Mr. Friendly
With my arms flapping in the wind
They all would honk and wave and smile
As I smiled back with my bug filled grin
For weeks and weeks we went from coast to coast
Hollywood, California is where I made my mark
Someone happened to take my picture
Which made me an instant star
So I hooked my buckle to the front of a limo
As crowds started to recognize me
A Big Mac Truck would no longer do
When your a Big Time Celebrity
I was on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon
He interviewed me from a parking lot
The limo would not fit on the couch
Plus I can't get the buckle to unlock
Now when my limo pulls up to crosswalks
Pedestrians ask for my autograph
Before the light turns green and me and the bumper we leave
I tell a few jokes and we share a few laughs
As life's fortunes would have it
I can't believe my luck
The day I tripped on that gravel drive
And fell into the grill of that Big Mac Truck