Best Vans Poems


Premium Member If Ever I Don't Know

"A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and 
can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words"
                                                                          ~ CS Lewis

If ever I don't know your name
  recall these words that I now write:
no season ever stays the same -
   fall yields to winter, day to night.

If ever I forget your face -
   though hard to fathom now, dear child,
I ask you to recall the days
   we walked on trails through canyons wild.

Those nights we camped under the stars
   and filled our lungs with mountain air,
the trips we took in vans or cars
   while singing songs from here to there.

Remember beach days, Sunday hikes, 
   or at the lake shore skipping stones,
those Saturdays we rode our bikes
   for donuts or for ice cream cones.

I hope you won't become too sad
   nor let my absence cast a pall,
for I will always be your dad
   I pray our good times you'll recall.
   
Now go and make new memories -
   in moving on, you play your part.
Sing soft our favorite melodies,
   I'll sing along deep in your heart.

written 25 June 2022
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: vans, age, daughter, father daughter,
Form: Rhyme

In Forbearance

Where was I 
when repo men invaded,
possessed,
boxed me up within his cool heart
fragrant in its distaste of warmer climates?
You know,
climates governed by love.
(Daydreaming of knights, that's where.)

Now I have only so much patience remaining
for this slapstick brain-
a nasty reminder, the heckler of my heart,
what spews sensibility
when I simply yearn to err. 

And I scarcely have time to mourn
his devil's smile
leaving southward in moving vans
transporting my pieces
(all the valid ones)
with him
as I sit numbed,
next to climbing ivy poisoned by my disbelief,
broken
unpaid for.
Categories: vans, introspection, lost love, love,
Form:

Premium Member Pursuing Dreams

A Sonnet in
      ~ Iambic Tetrameter ~


At age eighteen he fled his home
Could barely wait, despised his town
To see the world all on his own
He'd wear a smile, no more to frown

He traveled in a makeshift way
Hitched rides in vans and sneaked on trains
When desperate, he stowed away
At times got drenched by gusts of rain

Two years he spent pursuing dreams
Grew wiser as the time crawled by
Found out that life's nor peach nor cream
For home and hearth, began to sigh...

Came back and knocked on his front door
Discovered that 'twas 'home' no more
Categories: vans, adventure, happiness, home, teenage,
Form: Sonnet

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Seaside

The see-saw backsides of obesity traverse across the promenade
  Led by bustling torpedo breasts thrusting through the hustling throng;
Past tarnished chromium espresso bars, burger vans with frying lard,
  Ice cream parlours, sagging deckchairs and the sunlight blazing on.
Splayed upon the greying sands with butts of cigarettes in shallow graves,
  Bikini babes in thin floss thongs, sun oil basted, lie and fry,
The effluence of sewage farms foams ochre crests upon the waves,
  Cheap sunglasses and tinted shades warp vision as the seagulls cry.
Or are they coughing in the choking rise of hotdog onion smoke,
  Or searing blast of diesel oil drove upwards from the fairground sprawl,
And do they dive for fish and chips discarded by the glutted folk
  Until cholesterol weighs them down and they no longer fly but crawl?
Oh, I did like to be beside the seaside in the golden memories of my youth,
  Before the tattooed mobs and greedy slobs and moguls came to town,
And though rose-tinted, real dreams of childhood wonder sing of truth,	
  But now I’d much prefer it if they torched and burned the whole place down.
© Tony Bush  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: vans, parody, people, places, sea,
Form: Verse

Premium Member If I Shopped For My Spouse Like I Shop For My Automobile

When I shop for an automobile,
I don’t worry much about speed.
Good mileage per gallon I want.
A van or a truck I don’t need!

So I guess if shopped for a spouse
the way that I shop for a car,
that means that my man wouldn’t need
much fuel, but he still could go far!

And since I can’t stand vans and trucks
(preferring a car rather small),
my man, by those very same standards,
would not be too hunky at all.

Neither too slow nor too fast, my man
would be like a Mitsubishi 
A Spyder Eclipse, rather cute,
and super efficient for me!

When I shop for an automobile,
looks matter! I love a great hue.
And sporty is nice, but oh my,
what guy in the world is light blue?

And finally this is a must -
I want a convertible top!
Does that mean that men with toupees
are spouses for whom I should shop?

The spouse I have now is not small
nor sporty; his color is grey!
He’s bald, so he’s somewhat a rag-top.
I could purchase for him a toupee!

When all my old cars put on miles,
I always considered a trade-in.
But now that I’m old like my spouse,
I don’t think I’ll go through that again!
Categories: vans, husband, , cute,
Form: Rhyme

Beware of the Ides of the Men On Black

"Beware Of the Ides of the men on black"
The judges and jurors of our fates, blink.
Every time we will, they will reform it
They even gave them new uniforms
But they preferred the black 'It suits them mos'
And more guns,lesser humanity.

The Leaders of tomorrow are forbidden from seeing the morrows.
Put on rags, glorify poverty; 
Just maybe, you will live to see another day of this craze of population control.
While the men on black and their rifle embark on patrol.

Pim pim, 
Vroom vroom,
Police vans, parked by road sides
And policemen standing akimbo on major roads 
With flash torches, flashing bright lights 
Into the faces of incoming drivers
And their passengers if any.
A remainder of
'You better hold change 
Or we seize the whole money'


'The Police is Your friend' with stern faces
Hello, young man may we know you. 


"Paddy mi, make we gather reach town" 
4:20pm, Fresh fine boys gunned downtown.
One, two shots!
Another happy-trigger officer had shot his shots.
"Oga Olopa wetin my pikin do you?" 
The oceans flowed endlessly, as their mothers cried.

"Tattoo, dreadlocks, piercing not our culture!"
The Police report read.
For dumbness echoes now, while wisdom has been coerced into a deep sleep.
The toils of tomorrow built with the youth's blood.





    

GHOPS (Pa Shakespeare) x  O.C Adolf
Categories: vans, absence, abuse, africa, allusion,
Form: Didactic


Preposition Poem At the Junkyard

On one sultry August day
In a clearing in the woods
Within a long delay
for salvaged auto goods
Amid decaying vans, under glaring sun
High above one ant, homebound, on the run...
   Along a rugged trail
   of micro hill and dale
   Between pebbles and sprigs
   Over shards and twigs
   For seconds brief, beneath a leaf
   ‘Round a rock, willy nilly
   Root outcrop, dilly dally;
   Up the maple, fast
   With head-on-haul in grasp
   In and out of bark
   Inside crevice, dark
   Astride the edge, at last
   Across a lichen patch
   Behind broad leaves of dark green hue —
To my chagrin, beyond my view;
Out from under the shade
Into the open glade
Within the reflective collage
of glinting metals and shards
Beneath the tranquil sky — recharged!
Categories: vans, education, nature, summer, sun,
Form: Rhyme

The 60s

American Bandstand, Aqua Velva Ads, Aretha Franklin, and, the Andy Griffith Show
Black lights, Bewitched, bean bag chairs, beads, Batman and the Beatles
Cleopatra, Corvairs, Corvettes, Chevelles, Captain Kangaroo, Civil Rights Movement
Dionne Warwick, Derek and the Dominoes, Dennis the Menace, and Dodge Dart.
Ed Sullivan’s Amateur Hour, Elvis Presley, the Edsel, and new expressions emerge.
Fiddler on the Roof , Flower Power painted vans, Free love, Fiber optic lights, 
Giget, Green Acres, Glen Campbell, Gun Smoke, Go-Go Boots, “Go with the flow!”
Hello Dolly, Have Gun Will Travel,and the Hippie Movement begin...“Hang Ten”
Imperial (the car), I dream of Jeanie, and new phrases  “In your face” crop up.
JFK youngest U.S. President, and Jackie Kennedy stylish First Lady,
Kennedy was assassinated and the nation mourned the loss of their young leader.
Lamborghini 350 GT, Lava Lamps, Lady and the Tramp, Lost in Space, Lassie
Mousekateers, mini-skirts, mobiles, macramé plant hangars, Mash, The Monkeys,
Nissan Skyline GT-R, Nash Metropolitan, and Nestles’ Nestle were signs of the times.
Ordinary people seek peace during the years of war and social change of the 60s.
Pillsbury Doughboy, Petticoat Junction,and Peter, Paul, and Mary, placate.
Queen for the Day TV show, bring a fantasy escape during radically changing times.
Rabbit ear antennas for TV shows: Route 66, and Rowan and Martin’s Laugh- In.
Sherri Lewis and Lamb Chop, Shake and Bake, and the sexual revolution start.
Twist to The Four Tops, The Flintstones,The Adam’s Family, The Twilight Zone.  
“Up your nose with a rubber hose” and similar expressions are the times’ lingo.
Valley of the Dolls, Volkswagon Karmann Ghia, and Vanilla Fudge, gain popularity.
Wonderful World of Disney, Vietnam War, protests, and “Groovy” words crop up.
Xenoglossia emerges; “Make love, not war,” “Far out,”  “Catch you on the flip-side.”
Yonderly Vietnam Veterans return home to social unrest without a hero’s honor.
Zanadu dances around in the minds of the partakers; religion is legal, not marijuana.

Copyright March 7, 2015 
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: The Decades
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Categories: vans, america, angst, fashion, history,
Form: Abecedarian

Premium Member The Un-Beetable Bug

THE UN-BEETABLE BUG


Simplicity, elasticity, beauty in the thirties,
not like some sedans, ugly and beastly

This popular car and it's history from the past,
from it's World War two template, it sure did last

How many know why it's being came to be,
a car for the German people, to what you've seen

The Sixties starts the decade of the Summer of love,
unique form of the bug fits these times like a glove

Born in Germany in yellow, black, blue or white,
but see I desire the color red so alluringly bright

Won't you agree, it looks sexy, pretty and nice?
This models size and style sparkles to burst some spice

Its voluptuous rounds makes it friendly and sleek,
to busy roads and highways surely it can easily sneak

It may look slow but I tell you: you are wrong!
This small car runs like the shooting star song.

Alongside trucks or vans, it doesn't tremble a fear
as when I turn the key, horsepower shy with its gear.

Easy so easy, I can turn the wheels to any curves
soothing so soothing to my sometimes worried nerves

Many a design of automobiles will pass
but hey, my red Volkswagen still holds the class.

The "un-beetable" Beetle bug definitely hits a big shot
to a parking lot you can easily save her a spot
___________________________________________________________

12/30/2015 15.55pm
Categories: vans, age, art, beauty, car,
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Who Should We Blame

Soccer moms need gas each day 
To move their vans along the way.

How can a jet leave contrail lines
Without the fuel to fly so high?

Little did the Ford man know
How fast the number of cars would grow.

750 million today
To double in 30 years they say.

This thirsty world requires a drink
350 million barrels per month, I think.

So when an oil spill makes us mad,
When oil stained beaches make us sad,

We shouldn't blame the companies
That try so hard to meet our needs.

Or curse our government and president,
When we see where the spilled oil went.

They'll work together best they can,
New laws and money to clean the sand.

New technology will be invented
To contain the leaks when they are vented.

If you look for whom to blame,
His name and yours may be the same.
Categories: vans, loss, natural disasters
Form: Couplet

Premium Member The Flea Market At the Veteran's Center

Long before dawn
we find
the most incredible
silent energy.
A line of cars
and trailers
packed with
questionable treasures
idle, 
waiting for their
booth assignments.
In the field,
in the light of headlights
hushed merchants
set up their tents
and tables startled
only by an occasional 
tent pole striking
the pavement.
Some, self satisfied,
have been set up for hours,
these are the "professionals",
who calmly wait for the start.
Various degrees of chaos 
marked the rest
as they try to decide
how to best present their
once prized,
nostalgia wrapped,
discarded, rejected,
hopefully priced right,
wares.
In the half light
a question permeates the air.
It is a question that goes back in time
before mini-vans and pick-ups
to push carts and horse carts
and before.
Will I make enough to cover
the booth fee?
Will I sell enough to cover
the check I wrote to pay
the booth fee?
Will I make enough to pay
rent, feed my children?
What will I do if this doesn't
work?
Categories: vans, life
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Token

Edit
Token
by Patrick Cornwall on Friday, January 20, 2012 at 10:08am

He was the last of his kind and it was known.

Some dated him one hundred years and he had style.

Christmas was his time and the rest of the year he felt nothing.

But Thanksgiving came and some cared and tried to help.

They came in their vans with  Almighty Church of Thanksgiving and Christmas  painted on its sides.

But after the New Year he was alone again except for his friend the rat.

He slept in the subway, where it wasn't too bad.

His clothes were in tatters  and the rat brought him food.

His  blanket was newspapers which he  read and then slept underneath.

Sometimes the rat read to him while he snoozed.

The niners went casually around him and his newspapers but some listened to the rat reading.

The rat was nice and sometimes the Old Man would read to him too.

The rat loved the funnies and would roll over holding his stomach laughing.

The Old Man grabbed his Thunderbird and gave some to the rat.

The rat drank when in the mood and most times he was.

The rat wasn't supposed to drink because of his high blood pressure.

The old man loved the rat but he often disappeared and it made him sad.

He took a pull and wondered where the rat had gone and braced against the cold.

He saw the rat  sitting in the  booth where the tokens went and rat waved him through.

He was hungry and searching found a perfectly good hamburger in the pickup window.

People watched as he dug in the trash can and the train  lighting the tunnel.

He washed the burger down with the last of his Thurnderbird and decided to get on the train before it came.
Categories: vans, funny, old, thanksgiving, old,
Form: Free verse

A Satire To the Famous Politician

Politics! Politics! 
What a deadly 
game,making 
her victim early 
lame.Dear 
memories i 
recall there 
was but once 
an election,but 
present tell us 
of selection.
With eyes as a 
night owl ,we 
see men with 
ill mind as 
ancient saul, it 
would have 
been a 
pleasure to pay 
them the visit 
of christ and 
rename them 
paul, they think 
the game is 
neat yet it 
leads them to 
early pit,the 
whole thing 
digs a trench 
when they 
think its a 
fence.
 They believe 
they are 
players yet all 
they need is 
prayers,they 
are v.i.p at 
night 
clubs,when 
they need to 
prepare their 
cross,they 
think they 
have alot of 
fans but soon 
they will be 
taken away in 
vans.
Your form of 
revenue is 
easy,while 
workers at 
your avenue 
are busy, they 
went rubbing 
the poor to fill 
their abyss 
accounts,while 
their purses 
were opened 
by INEC leaches.
 Their wealthy 
company are 
now crumbling 
before a fall, 
and their once 
healthy skin 
are growing 
wrinkled,at the 
right time, the 
bile of death 
they 
tasted,the 
throbbing 
sensation of a 
last breath 
they 
experienced,and 
their life cud 
was cut, to 6 
feet he 
became 
reduced.
Categories: vans, absence
Form: ABC

The Highway

People travel me from far and wide
Cars, vans, trucks, people inside

Going places around the globe
I help them on my open road

Winding up and down the hills
Some stop to see ocean spills

Police surveying people’s speed
So, the traveler’s better take heed

I have ramps for people to exit their space
Of final destination or resting place

I am the highway that has some strife
Looking for my exit to start a new life

If I could find it, I could begin again
Just like these travelers when they come to their end.

©Holly P. Moore
   December 2012
Categories: vans, introspection, life, people, people,
Form: Personification

Premium Member Sheep, Aliens and Curry

While Shepherds watched their flocks by night all seated on the ground
The ewes collected up their lambs and gathered them around
"Listen now," the old Ewe said, "you young lambs listen well,
If you all want to grow to sheep then hark to what I tell
You may see lights up in the sky, or coming cross the downs
They could be aliens my dears, from space, or other towns
They may use flashy coloured beams or other fancy sights
But sometimes they have dim headlamps and indicator lights"

"It does not matter how they come or from what other lands
Aliens are just as bad who drive white transit vans
So lambs who plan to wander off and get up to no good
Can get sheepnapped to Cygnus Prime, or maybe Cricklewood
And whether you are beamed aboard, or bundled in a sack
The aliens have got you, and you won't be coming back
A simple truth for young lambs to, within their noddles, keep
Is alien companionship is never good for sheep"

"It matters not a sci-fi whit dissected in a lab,
Or spiced and served with napkins in a curry or kebab
The preparations, much the same, occuring on the way
Are what you can undoubtedly expect to spoil your day!"

The little lambs were chastened much and some quite overcome
And resolved that they would keep themselves close to their mum

But other things were happening and shepherds on the ground
Beheld an Angel visiting, with glory spread around

"Fear Not", he said for mighty dread had seized their troubled minds
"Great tidings of great joy I bring to you and all mankind"

The sheep reckoned that was not them and were much relieved
It did not really matter if the shepherds were deceived
But still, they thought, 'twas best be off, although no need to hurry
And one or two thought shepherds might improve turned into curry

The night was dark and shepherds eyes were full of holy light
And so the sheep all silently crept off into the night
Leaving shepherds to their fate somewhere among the stars
The sheep hit Bethlehem's nightspots, the clubs, the pubs and bars.
© Lee Leon  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: vans, angel, animal, fantasy, horror,
Form: Rhyme
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