Best Volkswagen Poems
When my time is done and I am finally laid to rest
I don’t want to be recalled as one who lived life depressed
So as I wrote my will, I chose to leave an instruction
That laughing gas be inhaled by all those at the function
No mournful eulogies will a pastor have to invent
For my funeral will be held under a circus tent
When dozens of clowns emerge from the tiny Volkswagen
Reams of my silly limericks Bozo will be dragin’
And as they’re read aloud, family and friends who knew me best
Will say, “She had a sense of humor, this we can attest.”
Mimes will mimic me trying to write the world’s best novel
As my corpse hangs from the trapeze, surely they will marvel
Laughter will ensue as they shoot me from the cannon
Flying high in my demise across the great Grand Canyon
All the children will smile and there’ll be no tears allowed
So no one will ever remember me as a “dark cloud”
There are people who seem to take life way too seriously
When I meet my Maker, don’t view this as a tragedy
Dad called me his “happy girl,” so let me go out that way
I want to leave them laughing as I reach my judgment day
Date: Written March 26, 2011, entered in contest December 11, 2018
Contest Name: Make Me Actually LOL Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
A child in time
Innocence was not youth, innocence was the times
We all sat at the dinner table
Discussions were lively, as adult’s sipped wine
That old Volkswagen, a trunk of memories
Now sitting in the graveyard of old rusty cars
Wishing for shinier days, and a fresh cold coca cola
Frozen in my mind, rusty bumpers, forever a time to cherish
Some dreamed of voyages to space
I dreamed of far away meadows
Where nothing ever changed
Childhoods magically suspended in time
Let me say, time is no ones friend
We spend it easily in our youth
We treasure it like frankincense with each passing day
Love captures our hearts, will time let it stay?
We see the world around us die
Knowing this is nature’s way
Pain, as loved ones fade
Wither away, as we linger on
Day after day
The same questions float in my head
Why do things have to change?
Am I not better off dead?
Love is bound by tears of the heart
A soft kiss or eyes that speak in lustful silence
It matters not, not at all
We must suffer this world as humans do
Me, I shall cling to yesterday
The days of abundance of spirit and youth
I shall dance inside these memories
These are the happy shadows of the past
The snow so deep… That it was over our heads… Was a melting by the hour!
Give it a day, or two at most… and with this heat… it would all be gone, forever!
But in the meantime, we were sadly stuck, in mud, deep, within our own backyard!
The water couldn't run off fast enough; our backyard had become a swamp, marred!
Just then, low and behold my old Volkswagen bubbled up, thru the mud it came!
You know, the one, surely you do! Last year it had floated down the storm drain!
Now, low and behold something got out! OH WHAT I’ll never, ever, really know!
Said he was the REAL Swamp Thing, and tired of spring-cleaning his house, so…
He chained the car to a tree, as he hopped out. Said his name was “Gone Fishing”.
Said his Mama read it on a sign, and used it to name her sweet, baby, Swamp Thing!
But then, he saw our back yard, he shouted in delight and decided to visit for a spell!
After all, it’s turned into a real swamp! And he’s the real Swamp Thing! So, Do Tell!
Dragon, the penguins, and all else, followed him straight, to the swamp so profound..
The penguins slid down the muddy slope, and followed the Swamp Thing all around.
But when Dragon tried, his weight got him stuck! We had to wench him, to the shore.
Mud became the name of the day, with mud and snowball fights going on, in galore!
Everyone was in seventh heaven, ‘Gone Fishing’ the same, as they slide, all about!
Fun ensued! For how often can he vacation about? Only once a year! No doubt!
After 2 days of fun, the snow was almost gone, so we cleaned them, as they played.
Yes, the fire hydrant was turned on! Dragon threw his Penguins, happily, into the spray!
That shot them almost to the moon above! The closest to flying they would ever be!
They soared then slide down the street. Even Dragon did play this time! How sweet!
But ‘Gone Fishing’ knew his vacation was up. So he waved a hearty good bye…
As he jumped into the Volkswagen again, and let it fly, and man, could that baby, fly!
It flew down the street, and back down the drain! Before our very own eyes!
That was the last time we saw the Swamp Thing, as we waved, a sad goodbye!
But next time it snows to mile high deep… as it melts, we’ll be looking for our friend.
Here lies our story of ‘Gone Fishing”. It’s real! Honest! To you, I’d never lie! I defend!
And I expect, where ever he really is now… He’s ‘Gone Fishing’…THE END
I was strolling through Evergreen Cemetery the other day,
Glancing at epitaphs etched upon various stones along the way.
Some flowing verse was out of this world but I can only assume,
That the authors were forthcoming in how they met their doom!
"Should an inconsiderate bird upon my stone alight,
Please do me a favor and remove the blight!"
"Here reposes a dude who tried to rob a lady teller,
But she was a keener shot than this unlucky feller!"
"Here sleeps ace pilot Captain Cletus Cole;
His wings were clipped attempting a barrel roll!"
"Here reclines butcher Clyde who cheated on his wife.
Unknown to him she was also adept at wielding a butcher knife!"
"Here lies Hank his mortal shell riddled with lead.
He was nabbed rustlin' steers and the sheriff shot him dead!"
"Here is deposited the corpus of Eddie a top-notch baker.
He is now serving assorted donuts to his beloved Maker!"
"Please relay your regards as by this way you pass,
But for heavens sake, keep off the cottin' pickin' grass!"
"On a banana peel the dear departed slipped and fell.
We pray he landed in paradise and not in hell!"
"He didn't know his Volkswagen had all that power.
He met his doom head-on doing 90 miles per hour!"
"Fer nigh on 40 years old Hank rode this earthly range;
Now he rides in that final roundup on that heavenly grange!"
"Gambler Jim has left very few friends behind to grieve;
He was caught with a couple of aces up his sleeve!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Santa, I have an important request.
Please don't embarrass me with ho ho hos.
If you'd looked at my face you might have guessed.
I'm serious about fixing my nose.
I can sense you are stifling your laughter.
Your bowl full of jello, nicely restrained.
Proboscis happily ever after,
Would not appear that it's been candy caned.
Hire a team of rhinoplasty surgeons.
I create damaging winds with this thing.
Like the limb of an oak tree it burgeons.
Just yesterday a blue jay perched to sing.
Hurry, Dear Santa, its growth won't abate.
Go talk to Rudolph, as he can relate.
***********************************
There may be some problems I must address.
Lies emitted from hole under my snout.
Pains me Santa, I readily confess.
Please be patient as I utter these out.
I lied to Sonya about her red dress.
Made her butt dwarf a Volkswagen fender.
I lied to the postman, my home address.
Marked the water bill "Return To Sender".
I fibbed a little to co-worker, Sue.
Her peanut butter cookies smelled like feet.
But tell me, what the heck was I to do?
I wrapped and hid it in a slice of meat.
Santa, I am a serial liar.
Instead of my pants, set my nose on fire.
***********************************
I'll do better if button nose gifted.
I promise to be more a straight shooter.
A smaller nose, my spirits be lifted.
Seriously, would you want this hooter?
The fibs I told did no permanent harm,
But if you would like I can change all that.
Who "nose"? I may lose my personal charm.
If I tell my friend Sonya she is fat.
If you leave money in an envelope,
I'll pay the water bill before it's due.
I can rub Sue's cookies with fragrant soap.
For a nose job, I will eat one or two.
Santa, I know you smell something is rot.
But I am here to assure you, it's snot.
Written 12/12/2017
"From My Lips to Santa's Ears"
Contest
Hosted by Phillip Garcia
I was brought up on a smallholding when I was a lass
We needed something to help us cut the vast expanse of grass
I wanted a goat and my parents they agreed
We saw one advertised and rushed there at great speed
Poor ‘Susie’ lived in a paved back yard
Finding her food to eat must have been hard
We paid them some money and then the fun began
Travelling home in dads Volkswagen van*
I sat on the back seat with ‘Susie’ next to me
It looked pretty silly – I’m sure you will agree
Back home she bounded out of the car
She trimmed the nearest rose bush – she really was a star
She headed for the washing line and tried to eat dad’s pants
It was pretty hilarious – I can still hear poor dad’s rants
She was ‘with kid’ and got settled in her comfy shed
Her favourite food was bananas she’d eat them all when fed
Finally the great day of the kid’s birth did arrive
I called them ‘Billy and Nanny’ I was filled with great pride
The kids were so cute and we would take them out for walks
If people saw us out in the street their eyes would be on stalks
The kids they grew so quickly and nanny she got sold
Billy stayed a few more weeks but he was never to get old
Billy became a problem and was sold off in a hurry
I was devastated to find poor Billy was made into curry
This really did happen as written - I had Susie for my 13th birthday present
The ONLY amendment is it was a VW Beetle not a van *
Jan Allison
10th April 2014
CAR COURT
Enter, the older heavyweight steel giant,
The bailiff, a 1954 Hudson, reads unhesitant :
On the docket for this morning : guilty by implication - a Trabant,
In close custody with a Cutlass Supreme for supervision.
Next on the docket: a Pinto for likely gas-tank explosion.
Third on the docket: an English-made car (any marque) - body corrosion.
Lawyer for the prosecution, a pretentious character, a gas guzzler SUV
4x4 off-road with winch - for Saturday use on driveway only -
Hangs out with Vettes; and uses NO2 in fuel. Who?Drugs? Not me!
Downbeat guy as the defence counsel , a solid no nonsense Hummer,
A real enviro-bummer,
Klutzy ugly and personality like a mack truck in summer.
Trabant coughed its way to the stand.
Clerk of court Volkswagen, order in hand,
Read the indictment quietly, efficiently, bland.
Prosecution began with noisy opening musical-horn tunelets
The jury, all serious-minded stolid Volvos and Toyota Starlets
Were not impressed. Hummer clumsily interrupted with an objection, “Let’s
Stop, on the grounds of precedent,” but at this point Pinto reversed,
Crushed its trunk and its gas-tank exploded, and worst ,
Hit the the English car : and into flames they both burst.
Cutlass argued with the SUV, which was winched away pending sentence.
Case against the English car dismissed from lack of evidence.
Trabant was deported back to Germany: no import licence
Overseeing all these proceedings : the ever-reliable, I-won’t-budge,
The I-have-a-spotless-reputation, I-hold-no-grudge,
The mechanical virgin, the silent Rolls Royce as judge.
...........................................................................................................
"How sweet to the heart are the scenes of my childhood"
Samuel Woodworth, 1785-1842
I'd help milk the goat and feed our two pigs
and loved being outside in the warm sun
picking potatoes whilst my father digs
We'd go to the coast it was so much fun,
driving for miles in dad's Volkswagen car,
dad would buy big ice creams for everyone!
My primary school was not very far
I'd walk there with my mother every day
academically I wasn't a star!
I was a tomboy, I guess I should say
and never played with dolls when I was small
I dreamed of throwing sis's Barbie away!
Just a few memories, I can recall
I have many more... but won't share them all
Terza Rima Form Poetry Contest
10 syllables per line checked with how many syllables
Sponsored by Constance La France
20/11/20
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
She had more than a hundred thousand miles
But when I saw the “bug,” it gave me smiles
Bright and red, it had some kinks
Radio on -- off it blinks
But the engine withstood many more trials
This tiny Volkswagen looked like an elf
I had learned to change her tires by myself
She chugged hard going uphill
Just drive slow, she’d make it still
I knew she’d never be placed on a shelf
With tune-ups and oil lubes, she kept going
And never once did she require towing
She took me from work to school
Made me feel so very cool
My love for my bug just kept on growing
Time for a new car come graduation
But it never gave me the sensation
Of being queen of the road
When it was time to unload
My cousin drove "bug," e’er making her run
Do you remember the movie “Sleeper”
Bug found in cave seemed claimed by the Reaper
Woody turned the key; it ran
A centuries-old life span
I ask myself, “Why didn’t I keep her?”
New is nice, but reliable’s better
That tough old bug was quite the go-getter
It was just one month later
I was a new car hater
Driving the Camry, I was a fretter
I tried to buy my old Volkswagen back
To convince my cousin, I had no knack
He loved my bug, laughed at me
Refused to return the key
When my new Toyota’s engine did crack
*By Carolyn Devonshire for Carol Brown’s “My First Car” contest
Sitting at the very top of my closet,
a small cedar chest, with treasures I did deposit.
It was Christmas gift my sweet cousin gave,
for years it has sat there, as if in a grave!
With broken hinges and a defective lock,
I will now open it; take reflective walk!
Amongst my treasures, is my grandma’s script;
written May fifth, Nineteen-seventy-six.
It must have been sent just before she died.
Because that was the year, my daddy cried!
Withered, torn, and barely legible,
to part with it, seems unethical.
Some special notes from Marie,
That date back to eighty-three.
She and I were the best of friends,
and we kept up with all the trends.
Eighties hairstyles: yea, we did rock,
To ACDC, and not ever to Bach!
A faded card from a stripling lad,
my high school sweetheart, I must add!
A ticket stub from a real Pecos rodeo,
I suppose this was kept for braggadocio!
A red toy convertible Volkswagen bug,
My dream vehicle, when I was young and smug!
In this wonderful stack of silly riches,
A valentine note puts me in stiches.
Penned by my husband’s masculine hand,
he expresses his love sure is grand.
And that is why he feels me up,
I think I’ll save this loving cup!
There is a chart I do recall,
It prepared me for something small.
A little prayer written down,
nine months later she came around!
With a baby girl I was blest,
As she feed upon my breast!
A Western Union telegram,
I took a second to exam.
The name written in black ink,
is to me my missing link!
Her presence always made me calm,
She lives heaven, she is my mom!
You asked me what’s in my treasure chest,
precious memories; who would have guessed?
Thanks for this time of reminiscing,
Oh’ how this life is sure worth living!
It might be time to toast some champagne,
To the future, and to memory lane!
From a BMW
Slower than snails, slower than slugs,
Holdens, Hondas, and Volkswagen bugs;
All crawling along in slow moving lanes
On the fast freeway, bypassed by the trains.
All of the views from the passenger seat
Flow as thick as treacle sweet;
And once in a while, when you nod off to sleep,
The guy behind you, his horn will beep.
There is a boy who’s desperate to pee
And he’s not by himself, there’s also me.
Here is a cafe; the sky’s getting dark,
There’s no way to stop, there’s nowhere to park.
Here is a cyclist, his bike flying past
Whizzing along, going so fast.
Here is another, and there’s one more,
I close my eyes, we’re stuck for sure.
apologies to R L Stevenson. (from a railway carriage)
My husband fell in love with the beautiful Mae West.
I knew it was because of her oversized breast.
"Mae is beautiful," I retorted, "but small chested girls also like to hug."
"You and Mae," he laughed, "is like comparing a Cadillac to a Volkswagen bug."
Saw the advertisement of a sleazy Volkswagen
Surfed the net as the seed was sown
For anything based on german technology
I knew nothing about car mechanisms
Except the comfort of conveniences
Yet updated my limited knowledge
With its mileage, performance, safety
Saw the diesel and petrol options
Of the Vento sedan facelift images
And I struck the hammer for
An ivory Vento petrol run sedan
Thought it to be the most perfect gift
For my no demanding husband whose
Passion for good cars was no secret
But had never indulged in such luxury
It looked as chaste and modest
Yet powerful in making its presence felt as he
The plush ivory seat covers made me drool
The hatchback was a a luxury for holidaying
Car loans were enticing with festive offers
I had saved enough for the initial down payment
Before it reached home at the traffic lights
An illiterate rickshaw puller scoffing all rules
Squeezed his way between two cars
To leave a scar on the front door
The heart on a trapeze on highways with
Many more dents and bangs on tragic Indian roads
Fuming and fretting at every imbecile
Given a driving license without any lesson
The plush seats became uncomfortable
And the ass became sore
The generosity of an overwhelmed heart
Seemed not a very lucrative proposition
As every pay packet announced debits
With fewer coins on retail therapy
Alas! The years of stringent measures
Will die within a week with the end of the last debit
The Old Vento is finally ours, but wonder
Is it really ivory that I had bought six years ago?
Is it the same sedan whose facelift images that had lured me?
Or does it need a facelift?
Balveen Cheema
January 1, 2015
Contest: Cars- Only for Women
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Crack open an eye on Saturday morn,
and reach out to give him a cuddle.
To find he's been up since break of dawn,
and crouched in a black oily puddle.
Began with the Polo, a fast one I guess,
On day three the engine goes BOOM!
Self serviced the car to cost himself less,
Now there's wires spewing out from the loom.
A holey exhaust, a broken headlight,
and *** burns adorning each seat.
The bulbs have all blown so he cant drive at night,
or too far coz the car overheats.
To top this all off, he then bought a Golf
GTI so it's fast as a cheetah.
It's German, it's black, he's named it Adolf,
The fact it won't start, common feature.
He pulled out the seats and the engine and tanks,
It's now just a sad empty shell.
I put up and put up but still get no thanks,
So I wish these cars would burn in hell.
I'm tired of washers and bolts on the floor,
of my kitchen and hallway and loo.
Got wires and leads and cards off the doors,
Full suspension in my living room.
Im sick of these Dubs, I'm sick of the sight
of alloys and tyres and....just....bits.
The attention these Dubs get from morning til night,
It's beginning to get on my.....nerves.
Just put down your spanner, your socket and wrench
and grab a cold drink from the fridge
Take off your stained jeans, and jump in the bath
Now, where did I put the phone number for the scrap yard?.......
6th September 2011