Best Roadside Poems
Discarded shoes are mysterious things.
More so than a deer, an old tire, or a deep-forest yeti.
They come out of nowhere.
One day they're here; the next day they're not.
Some stay for just a day or two.
Some hang around for months.
Like a wayward uncle leeching
a warm bed and a cold brew.
Who owned them?
Why do they clog the roadside?
Some look like newborns- others like death.
Were they victims of a prank or just lost evidence?
I once saw two red sneakers on the shoulder of a road.
Just inches apart, looking shiny and new.
Like Dorothy's ruby-studded shoes.
They must have tapped their heels together.
click-click-click.
Because by the next morning they vanished.
There's no place like home. I suppose.
Roadside flowers, defy the rain
handwritten cards, spell out the name
of someone’s son, of someone’s friend
just where the road, begins to bend
at the spot where everything changed
Passers-by said it was a shame
nobody quite sure who to blame
but everyone could comprehend
roadside flowers.
A face looks through the window pane
oblivious to sun or rain
condolences so quick to send
that broken fence so soon to mend
her grief still wrapped in cellophane
roadside flowers.
Once again I pass that roadside cross
A family's memorial to a loved one lost
The place of a terrible tragedy
Proof of broken hearts we see
Who died here and where were they going
It's hard to imagine not really knowing
But I know the family comes here to cry
On the spot where a loved one died
I can't help to feel when I pass this cross
Some of the tears and the pain of the loss
Driving by this cross every day
I have become connected in some way
Grünes Paradies
Am Seitenarm der Mandau
Neben der Strasse
Helles Vogelgezwitscher
Aus den Sträuchern am Ufer
---------------------------------
Green paradise
At a side arm of the Mandau
So close by the street
Bright bird's twitter
From the shrubs at the shore
---------------------------------
Verde paraíso
Al ramal del Río Mandau
Cerca de la calle
Cantos vivos de pájaros
De los arbustos en la orilla
Jane and Norman are going steady
Now are planning their wedding
They decided to wed
At a roadside chapel
Off a country road
Their minister will
Do the ceremony
Jane will have bridesmaids
A flower girl or two
Maids of honor will lead
Then the bride will follow
Walking slow to the groom
She is teary eye with joy
Photos taken outdoors
In front of the chapel
People gather to watch
Phots are taken
On a bright sunny day
Small groups groups gather
to chat
Before leaving the chapel
Holiday’s Roadside Wreckage
by Odin Roark
To live as you’re not
To be who society massages you into being
To succumb to counterfeit identity
Is to skid into mere roadside wreckage.
We pass such rubble all the time
The defective and or mismatched parts of authenticity
Merging with Nature’s roadkill
Decorated by gum wrappers
Festooned by beer cans.
Sadly…
Few anticipate the accident,
The head-on collision with reality,
Where darkness and tears
Become the black ice of misfortune.
Still…
Some will slow down enough to see when they look,
Realize that reason and logic’s purpose
Is to reveal the highway shoulders and ditches’ necessity,
Irony’s off-road demise for make-believers
Careening unconscious down life’s highway.
Roadside wreckage…
Unrewarding scenery made repetitively prophetic
Until we take the time to recognize and live compatibly
With who we really are.
The roadside linden trees
Disperse their wilted blossoms
Onto grey asphalt
Abstract paintings in ochre and grey
Changing vision of natrure's great art
------------------------------------------------
Die Linden am Strassenrand
Verstreuen ihre verdörrten Blüten
Auf grauen Asphalt
Abstrakte Bilder in Ocker und Grau
Wechselnder Anblick der Natur
------------------------------------------------
Los tilos cerca de calle
Esparcen sus flores marchitas
Al asfalto gris
Pinturas abstractos en ocre y gris
Vista variable de gran arte de naturaleza
They stood there by the shadows
Two vagabonds should you call,
One was a man of honour
The other a mongrel small;
The winter sun was setting
Twilight had crawled overall,
The north wind clamoured and howled
Dark clouds had suffused their shawl;
Few townsfolk shuffled about
Hurrying with chores of their day,
But none caring to glance at
The two who stood by their way;
Horse-drawn carriages laboured by
As did porters to the quay,
None had the time to stand by
Caught up in their worldly fray;
Ignored stood the wanderers
Who once had home and hearth,
Their lives blessed with plentiful
For it had both joy and mirth;
But destiny had beguiled
Now they were ever in dearth;
They needed food and shelter
But could barter not its worth;
The two sought caring glances
They sought for a helping hand,
Pleadings a gentle flourish
Like sea-shells upon the sand;
Yet, dusk felt their suffering
Bats feted them to their land,
Stars cajoled from a distance
That Venus would wield its wand.
Huddled upon a doorway
They made a grievous sight,
They stood for heaven's mercy
Their state a piteous plight;
The north wind seemed relentless
It rumbled with all its might,
Snow-flakes heeded their pallor
And left them shrouded in white;
A snow-owl spied them at dawn
Hunched at the doorway below,
Their reverie lay frozen
With desires none would know;
The mortal world had cared not
With compassion's running low,
But nature had been kindly
Having buried them in snow.
The owl mourned their tragedy
Sadly hooting at the sun,
It resounded like a dirge
Alas to hear, there was none!
***********
Alas, never seen along scenic highways and byways anymore,
(Now, tacky billboards clutter roads from shore to shore!)
Are the pithy Burma-Shave signs displayed in red and white,
That provided the traveling public with so much delight!
Signs were planted by PhDs (Post Hole Diggers) fifty yards apart;
Folks memorized them by rote and recited them from the heart.
Dads became adept at suddenly shifting their cars in reverse,
Should Mom or the kids miss a line of that mesmerizing verse!
For massaging their spines, cows and horses found them handy.
Miscreants used them for targets - their usual modus operandi.
College boys "borrowed" signs to decorate their college dorms.
Others were set atilt or otherwise marred by savage thunder storms!
Six sequential signs were arraigned along a farmer's fence.
Each was carefully composed so as not to cause offense.
Shakespeare would be aghast at such appalling versification,
But never mind, for nigh on 40 years they tickled a generation!
'Tis so sad that these clever mots have vanished from the scene.
What was once an educational trip is now so boring and routine!
When rising each morn/Your stubble to mow/And your mug to lave/
You'll sigh and mourn/The demise of signs/Reading Burma-Shave!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
A lonely figure, I stared at the darkened moon sadness lingering numb. Brokenhearted and penniless I sought answers I knew wouldn’t come. Surged my heart against time, I pondered my fate. Confused but filled with conviction I didn’t hesitate. There far off a murmur came and I took an endless road that led without discretion. The long, dark road spoke to me and enticingly said, I can take you where you shouldn’t tread. Smiling, he asks where are going, better yet where have you been? As if he could read my mind he continued, for you see both ends of the road I have already seen. I shrugged my shoulders, then I said, there is inside me something I cannot shed, I am a loner, have always been, I’m not a loser but then, I just never win. I’ll take my chances for that is who I am, I don’t really care, don’t give a damn. Just then a strong piercing wind blows; still I stood defiant and felt my courage grow. I peered ahead as far as I could, then looked back, as yet not understood. I knew the path I had to choose, I'll roll the dice, got nothing to lose. Somewhere distant along the line I’ll searched for a life I hope to find, perhaps along the way meet my fate a beautiful woman my life's soul mate. Through life’s malaise, I’ve had to travel strewed with sorrow thick as gravel. Somewhere forward and forward hence now the road has taken me to a fence. Beyond this fence I heard a voice that made my wandering heart rejoice “Give me your weary and troubled heart from this mortal strife you must depart.” Where am I now, I cannot tell. Beneath the darkened moon sadness lingering numb, I sadly went for I was just a figure who hedged his bet.
It was a pretty long drive but not tedious
Thanks to smooth arterial roads; well laid
The shortcoming was absence of eateries
And we were looking for a decent eatery.
All efforts to find out one came to naught
That forced us to settle with a roadside inn
The place not clean; which was predictable
But the tummies refused any extra journey.
Once seated, the waiter appeared smilingly
A smile at once genuine and pleasing one
That was totally devoid of any artificiality
That helped us relax despite the location.
He brought trays and glasses but not water
Instead of tissue paper he offered his scarf
And tore a newspaper to wipe them clean
All the time offered help with a big smile.
He brought water bottle moderately chilled
And then oven fresh rotis with vegetables
After some pause, gave butter and sweet
With feeling, that we should eat a bit more.
As we ate he offered his services to others
His actions fast, served the customers alone
Humming a tune with that radiant smile and
We left the place with a heavy heart n tummy.
by the roadside
flowers at the foot
of a simple cross
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Well, I suppose that I am again revealing my age,
But I grew up when Burma Shave signs were all the rage!
Could it be that those 'masterly creations' sparked my poetic bent,
As I soaked up a tad of 'culture' as down the rural roads I went?
"Buddy, if its a bit of romance you crave;
Best you slather yer mug with Burma Shave!"
"Why would she deign to give you a cuddly hug?
Better use Burma Shave to smooth yer bristly mug!"
"Fer a smoother shave here's the latest buzz;
Use Burma Shave to rid yer mug of all that fuzz!"
"If you really want to set that romance on fire;
Use Burma Shave to smooth yer mug of all that brier!"
"If you need to clear yer mug of that five-o'clock shade;
Use a heap of Burma Shave with yer razor blade!"
"If scratchy whiskers are causing romance to be rather grim;
Perhaps a dab of Burma Shave would smooth yer trim!"
"If yer love-life with her has nearly disappeared;
Maybe its time to lather-up with Burma Shave on yer beard!"
"If yer whiskers are as scratchy as a field of thistles;
Use Burma Shave on your kisser to rid it of all those bristles!"
(To learn more about Burma Shave signs during the 1920s/30s go to your
search and enter "History of Burma Shave Signs")
In my youth I was completely engrossed,
By poetry along the byways nailed to a post!
It wasn't composed by John Greenleaf Whittier;
No, the authors were much more wittier!
I speak of Burma Shave signs once all the craze,
But can only be found in museums nowadays.
I don't claim to own the wit of poet Ogden Nash,
But here are some I might've composed if I may be so brash!
If its a kiss from yer gal you crave
But the stubble on yer mug she hates
Better grab yerself a can of Burma Shave!
When ol' Sarge says you're grown' too much stubble
And threatens to nix yer weekend pass
Slather yer mug with Burma Shave on the double!
When you were interviewed for a host of jobs
But weren't hired because of yer stubble
Smother yer mug with Burma Shave in gobs!
When you insist on takin' her out to dine
But she says no caressin' yer 5-o'clock shadow
Mow yer mug usin' Burma Shave and all will be fine!
If it's yer handsome mug you want to save
Plain ol' Lifebuoy soap won't do the job
Use plenty of good ol' foamy Burma Shave!
Let me tell you fellers about the latest rave
If you want to impress your sweetie pie
Use smooth and creamy Burma Shave!
Really? Is that all you are good for? Know your worth!
This is to bring awareness to outside relationships, cheaters, settlers, people who prefer to settle and have relations with someone who is in a relation with another. They do not respect nor care about the damages, affects, or consequences that can result from cheating or having an affair. Whether male or female, it applies to both cases.
If you are knowingly cheating with a married man, you are agreeing to contributing to being a person who administer “Roadside Assistance.” You are called upon when he is “Broke Down,” even if it’s just a minor breakdown. When he is broken, mad, sad, or had a lover’s spat with his wife, he runs to you for assistance and you accept the role as the mechanic. When he is having problems with his starter (yeah his wife), and his starter is acting up, he should make efforts to find out what the problem is and the solution to fix it. That does not mean to go out and get a new starter.
Understand this ladies, he doesn’t really want you, want you, he just needs a lil assistance to temporarily get his mind off the one he truly loves, the one he’ll never leave you for. So let’s say for instance he has a flat, yeah, he’s losing air, he’s got a slow leak, he’s running out of gas, he’s feeling down and he calls you cause he needs assistance. And what do you do when he needs assistance? You assist. You nurture, you cook, you listen, you sex, you pump him up, add fuel to his tank, fix his flat and then he drives home. Yes, home, home to his wife. Your house is not home. Did you think your house was home? Really?
Girl STOP! You are just somewhere he pulled over to the side to get a quick fix, a jump, an oil change, a tune-up…
STOP! JUST STOP! STOP, STOP, STOP!
Stop being on call providing 24 hour Roadside Assistance.
Shake that ssh... off and turn on them headlights, the ones that’s on inside your brain. Change your way of thinking and KNOW your worth!
You are not half of a woman that deserves half of a man. Don’t settle for a piece of man just to say you have a man. You are not no second string, no boo, no side piece, no shorty, no lil chick, no mistress, no fling, no bit..h, no whor$…
YOU ARE AMAZING, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, YOU ARE A QUEEN and you should be treated as such. You are so much more worthy and deserving of better!