Best Oad Poems
N-othing can break your heart,
E-ven during the falling rain;
L-earned to weather the storm,
L-iving to endure
Y-our pain.
D-ay twenty-five in May
A-llows the morning sun to rise;
D-awn has begun to shine,
A-s it brings sweet smile to
Y-our eyes.
C-an anything break your heart?
A-nswer is nothing at all;
S-olid in faith, hope and love,
T-ears truly will never fall.
R-oad ahead may be bumpy, moment may be sad at day's start;
O-ne thing remains in your mind, nothing can break your heart.
R andom radicals rush rip-roariously on ward
O nerously oggling on-lookers abroad
A nnealing axle-grease atop ankle-high boots
D eliberately dashing dilettante seekers
T raveling tenaciously toward tree-lined detours
R oad rage roars, racers recline, rear-wheels wheelie
I mprobable instances intoxicate incalculable intensity
Probably, they'd get there alive!?
S irens sound
E mptiness emanates extravehicular extemes
N ickle-plated, nonentities now
D eath, death, dangles
I nsanities inane inference
N ickle-plated, nonentities now
G one.
Contest:GROOVE IT ! Free Poetry Contest Details
Style: Heavy Metal
Date:10/9/13 revised
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Gleaming in the sun, my cherry-red skin
Low, throaty purring, ready engine’s sound
Over the chalked line, tires screech, we begin
Road blurs, turquoise Mustang fades, I am crowned
Yesteryear still lives in my heart, tearing
Days of rusted glory are never drowned
Ages since I’ve seen the face of caring
You stop your car and stare with knowing grin
Springsteen’s song on your radio, blaring
6/12/16
© By Author
For contest: Rusted and Busted
Sponsor: Casarah Nance
Terza Rima Rhyme scheme ababcbcac
10 syllables/line
My Life as a Car
Rusted and busted see my orange face
Used to grace the showroom place
See these broken eyelights that shone so bright
They saved your life one darkened night
Edsel body, wet shell to forget
Dear little voices asked “Are we there yet?”
And still my memories are mildew clear
Now through the busted fenders to yesteryear
Down the road we'd go far and wide
By rolling hills of still countryside
Uria finally got his license one day
So, in the back seat, he and Neat did lay
Taking lunch on a hunch by the road
Early moving morn and those three trunk loads
Days soon came with the clanks, clinks and pings
Can’t start, what’s wrong? everything
As grass grows up under my lowly gears
Road memories are crystal clear
Bundle of rules elongating the short distance between a problem and its solution
Unnecessary layers compulsorily placed on a mounted ladder with very few steps
Road expectedly smooth and direct is created with uneven stones and many bends
Every step is an independent process making the system tiring and liable to corruption
Alternating procedures and changing routes heavily function in the handling of issues
Under these so many ambiguous limbs is the fertile ground to germinate yet more problems
Complication storms out of these processes lined up in a queue with undefined relevance
Rare is the accuracy of timing respected as it is bastardized in five to ten folds
Add-ons a very possible side effect embracing the commotion of the mercy of many hands
Cruel is this system, especially in the 21st century of advancement in data processing
Yet loved by establishments of worlds without regard to maximizing human services.
The Old House Beside the Road
There is an old, ramshackle house that stands there by the road.
This house once had a family, with many stories stowed
Within its crumbly walls, and it now stands there all alone,
With gardens dead, untended yard, and weeds much overgrown.
The broken windows, tilting shutters, steps that rotted down,
And paint that once was bright and white but now shows dingy brown,
Would cause most people to ignore this rundown old abode,
This old ramshackle house that stands just there beside the road.
An ancient giant willow oak looms o’er the dried-up well,
And just beyond, there hangs an old and rusty dinner bell,
A frazzled rope with rotted seat shows where a child had swung.
Around in back, a wagon stands with half a broken tongue.
I wish this house could talk to me
And tell me how things used to be,
How happy it was when love flowed
In this old house beside the road.
I think this house has heart and soul with many tales that lie untold.
So many things that it might say, if only it could speak today.
For now, I’ll just enjoy my thoughts of all the things that time has wrought.
In this dear old, rundown abode that stands beside the road.
R iding with a bunch of friends.
O pen road lies ahead.
A dventures keep luring us to the,
D angers waiting round the bend.
T he blue sky above us,
R oad still ahead of us.
I n await of what lies next.
P enned this down for this was the best.
Trucks and buses roaring by
Road rage at an all-time high
Always watchful, never alert
For an occasional flirt
Forgetting where I am
In a puzzling traffic jam
Cursing, a thank you, ma’am!
Written October 14, 2022
W orking on the Precambrian rocks I traveled to Scotland
O n way to Edinburgh I crossed the undulating Highlands
R oad was serpentine, built on hanging rocks and debris
L ined by thick unbroken strands of birch and pine trees
D ressed in tartan skirt bagpipers on roadside played free.
C rossing the glen on foot I almost sank like in quicksand
R oaming in the moors the reindeers framed a sight grand
U nder a veil of mist the Loch Ness didn’t show its monster
I n a hurry I couldn’t have covered the whiskey trail faster
S cotch in dashes of small pegs went straight to my head
E nticing me to remember fondly the beauty of Scotland.
September 24, 2017.
Contest : World Cruise
Sponsored by : Kevin Shaw
J-ust
E-agerly
W-alk
E-thical
R-oad
M-oving
A-head
E-vading
N-o
A-venue
I-n
R-ighteous
A-lley
Topic: Birthday of Jewermae Naira (May 17)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
A-utomobile
U-ses
R-oad
O-vertaking
R -ight
A-way
Topic: Birthday of Aurora Sito (April 16)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
September falls within the best of times.
Elections nearing, campaigns underway;
Predictions, weather-wise for cooler climes.
Thus teachers, teens and toddlers break from play
Ere education calls their minds to grind.
Men have endorsed re-naming Labor Day;
But that’s September’s summons of a kind
Enlight’ning us of work that must go on
Regardless of what holiday we find.
Fall features color when the green is gone
And orange, yellow, red and brown have blessed.
Load up those fruits and walnuts and pecans;
Leave acorns for the squirrels building nests.
September brings to time its very best.
i noticed an enticing gleam in your eyes
a gleam that enunciated precisely what i needed to hear
but somehow i was slow to recognize
when i discovered what your stare made clear
in those emerald orbs i saw your heart
in in that stare were the words "my dear"
that was when sweet began playing its part
and forced far away forever my fear
we shared a shadow under an old oak tree
and a sweltering summer's day suddenly became cool
under that old oad tree were found you and me
when reality decided to break its rule
the rule was that only time would tell
yet the two of us needed no such time
destiny took us to where divinity would dwell
and a summer's day made so sublime
that day you came as such a surprise
while your emerald eyes became an exclamation mark
but by then i wasn't so slow as to not recognize
that you stood as a disclaimer to the dark
(c)2012 ....PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
School to wealth, then to power, a nice continuous wheel
Understanding nature to always make a good deal
Road map so short to great success without any zeal
Rest, play, sleep, travel and yet blessed with everyday meal
Entrance through the great palace gate for the King to kneel
After her every kiss, hidden wounds abruptly heal
Life can still be a fairy tale, no matter how real
R-oad
O-f
S-uccess
A-nd
L-uck
I-s
E-mploying
M-irth
A-s
R-ight
C-hoice
E-ndorses
L-ong
L-ife
A-nd
N-o
A-nguish
Topic: Birthday of Rosalie Marcellana (May 17)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic