Best Windshields Poems
Sand in sheets
scuffing skin and reminding
last nights attire reaks like bonfire
a hundred days like this
a sea of endless laughs rolling
like filmreels infinitely looped fantastic
Their cars rolled in, shiney and pretentious
personalized plates waxed clever wit
crowding this small town to gloat in sand-side castles
Yacht club yucks shelling bucks like bayou crayfish
condescending, fun loving, brash Chicago touristas
Bless their daughters who filed in sassy
chin up, chest out trustafarians
scents of coconut lotion and clinique perfume
wafting through our warm lake breeze reality
Giddy and loving our rough edged style
intending to slum with townies, like we minded...
smiles glowing in those bonfire nights
mischievious and promising...
Every action thereafter defied catholic school education
...benificiaries of repression rebellion...like we minded!
Lake Michigan was paces from my bedroom window
These sparrow serenaded mornings..
...morphing into something amphibious
when the alewives were raked, we lay lazy
Bodies melted into sand~~ sated with sun
splashing back to cool off in sandbars
coolers anchored in those cool waters
taking long pulls off a perspiring Heineken
Beach days concluded with seagulls off to hunt
Squaking as they ascended into pink and orangecicle skies
The water shimmered like a million illuminated snakes
...side winding-mirrored the suns final say
Couples pulled up to Harbor landing to see the show
heads melted into one mass in windshields all around
lovers seeing nature's beauty more vibrant as lovers do...
The sunset brings a new purple backdrop
squaks are replaced with crickets chirps
Bright-then-fading green...BRIGHT-then fading green
Children gathered fireflies in jars laughing
Ice cream stained faces aglow with captive glee
Then to black and star filled, became the sky
we returned to cooler sand pushing between our toes
scurrying through dunegrass seeking driftwood and brush
creating a structure to take to flame...a science for proud boyscouts
There we gathered with newfound gals from cross lake 'burbs
sunrise would end our night tonight...awaking to lifeguards scolding.
Inspired by John Heck's Summer Contest!!
Categories:
windshields, nostalgia
Form:
Free verse
Charley has taken his class hostage; he is seven.
His classmates are terrified of his out-of-control behaviors.
There is a perpetual glare on his face, he seems angry always.
He snarls and growls, sneers, and prowls around as they try
to do their work. His work is on the floor where he has thrown it.
or it is in the garbage can where he has crumpled or ripped it.
He punched an adult guest in the solar plexus last week in front
of his classmates, shocking them. The adult forgave him, saying it was
no big deal, but some of his peers are more afraid of him now.
In an effort to encourage him to be good, Charley is able to win
prizes for his good behaviors. He has won sixteen prizes
this week for following rules other children have always followed –
a prize for staying in class for ten minutes, a prize for not hitting anyone
for fifteen minutes, a prize for not destroying property for an hour.
We are incredulous that the Prize-Awarders can keep up with Charley’s prizes.
Charley is proud of his multitude of prizes, he flaunts them daily, in front
of the classmates he terrorizes minute by minute. He gets a prize if he does
not hit someone for an hour, and another prize for not breaking a windshield.
Other children in first grade who used to behave beautifully are now breaking
windshields, and punching adults.
No one can figure out why.
Categories:
windshields, anti bullying, bullying, humor,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I turned on the news and saw
people rioting in the streets,
burning the American flag,
destroying private property,
smashing windshields,
attacking innocent people,
screaming and ranting,
displaying so much hate
towards those who don’t share
the same thoughts and
ideas they do
and I was disgusted,
wondering why the news
had to always show things
that were happening
in the Middle East
until I realized
it was California
what the hell is wrong with people?
Categories:
windshields, angst,
Form:
Free verse
one day, I saw a car going by
with my fourteen-year-old self in the driver's seat.
he wasn't even the one driving the car.
it was hate that was driving the car,
fueling the car,
steering the car,
because the car was a vessel for the thoughts crammed in that trunk
which acts as the engine
the engine was in the back of the car.
that's right; it was the type of car that goes really fast
except when you're stuck in traffic
then you're on the same speed as everyone else.
but there was no traffic
there was nothing stopping the car
the car traveled at the speed of light,
but you see, the thing with traveling at the speed of light,
is that it's hard to stop, easy to lose control,
and time flies away with you,
no matter how little you enjoy the ride.
one day, I was passing by a car wreck
two cars of the same type,
same color,
same age,
the hoods perfectly crushed into each other
the windshields making contact
and I looked at the boy from earlier,
and saw that he had aged four years.
Categories:
windshields, mental health,
Form:
Free verse
all noise comes to a crashing halt
stifled by the sound of silence.
it is not a boom. it is not a bang.
it is a dive downward into nothingness.
the feeling in the pit of your stomach at the fall
on the edge of a waterslide.
the cars
propelled forward at breakneck speed
slam into a brick wall that isn’t there.
the drivers would catapult out their windshields
hurled into oblivion
if they could move.
but time has stopped, and they have stopped with it
as if they were encased in cement blocks.
the air hangs stagnant over the road.
it is peaceful here.
the stillness of the ponds’ waters
ocean waves suspended in midair
desert winds momentarily lifted
everything in the universe at a halt.
and the world picks up again.
Categories:
windshields, beauty, silence,
Form:
Free verse
The first weakening of night
picks out telephone lines,
black against sky.
The eyelid of a garage door
lurches laboriously up.
A car coughs blue breath.
With aerosols and plastic scrapers
clandestine delights of frostwebs
are raked to chemical sludge.
Starter motors whine.
Windshields cloud with pain.
Gears grind teeth.
An electric train
gingerly
utters inarticulate from the sheds,
groaning over cold joints.
Thinking grimly
of tunnels ahead,
it flares with ill-humor
crossing the points.
On unworked land beside the track,
a fox is heading home.
Gliding through
beneath the "keep out" sign,
he grins at the engine,
which just judders along,
headlights trained
on parallel lines
which glint ahead,
reflecting lurid signal red,
extending out, but never meeting,
towards the vanishing point.
Categories:
windshields, work,
Form:
Free verse
Walking down Lehigh Ave in North Philadelphia where I used to play
Now I see teenagers playing with dirty syringes and caps of rock
Women strutting and screaming, "Hey," to the car slowing down to peak
Gotta get one more
And the mother cries as the police drag her son away
Cars with flats and smashed windshields litter the streets and gangsters
Old men walk fast and the litter races to keep up
Glass crunches underfoot as the junkie holds up his hand with two fingers
"Whatchou want old man?"
And the newspaper flies past swirling and the old man thinks it's the end
Police roll past and the thugmen walk casually in all directions
"Da Bien,"thugish screams and the dealers return
As she sticks the needle in her arm and pulls the blood through
She goes into a nod and her eyelids droop but a tear rolls on her freckled cheek
Its the tear that has power as her breath becomes close
She takes one last lungful and the tear rolls slow as the heroin takes her life
Categories:
windshields, death, old, old,
Form:
Narrative
Well just how far back do you want me to go?
And how much "crazy" do you need to know?
hmmmmmmmmmmm
Looking back I recall, scared in my shoes
My innocent prank made FRONT PAGE NEWS!
New Orleans Fountain I shall never forget
When I poured a box of Tide in it!
It's smaller than a pond, bigger than a pool
Knew it would "bubble" look real KQQL
As the cars drove down Lakeshore Drive
The windshields were filled up to their eyes
with bursting bubbles in windows rolled down
They covered the Lakefront blew all over town!
I suppose that's the most famous thing I have done!
To the Mardi Gras Fountain from which I did run.
Paper said, "cost millions", much more than I had
But I'm Proud to say ......I invented this fad!
PS- don't tell. . . . .
Categories:
windshields, adventure,
Form:
Rhyme
In the rough, cold pavement they sleep
Prone to the elements that drain them deep
A harsh concrete jungle where they live
Their lives subsist on people who give
They are children with adolescent minds
Roaming the streets is their daily grind
At red lights they run with rags on hand
Wiping windshields as fast as they can
When stomachs signal hungry pangs
Relying on rancid food in trash cans
Or press their noses outside restaurants
Where people feast, they are in want
They make their rounds begging for alms
Seldom do people drop coins in their palms
Most will just think they’ll use it for drugs
Can’t fault them to feel like being mugged
So when a convincing offer comes along
They grabbed it even if they know it’s wrong
To skillfully dip fingers and pick pockets
And slice through bags to get one’s wallet
So tell me! Do kids like those have a choice?
The state is deaf to their pleading voice
When programs are bare for social welfare
Calamities are central when no one cares
But here lies the problem and it’s the truth
To fight crime we must look after our youth
For when they have grown to be a man
We can take comfort that we did all that we can!
Categories:
windshields, poverty, truth, youth, drug,
Form:
Rhyme
Classy Chassis
Rusted and Busted
I was a classic beauty at my time
Eyes of envy upon me at the time
My body and chrome spit shine
My windows reflected the world’s soul and mind
My sweet smelling leather seats you’d climb
And place your bare legs, feet on the dash
Driving me down Main Street with a sudden lash
Rusted and Busted
Abandoned and forgotten
I adorn
The sun kiss and the smell of rain field
Now green velvet moss conceals,
Air threads through my broken windshields
When once you sat,
The stain and smell of mildew on my crack leather seats,
Brown leaves and twigs rest on old broken springs
Nature’s home of exquisite silence yields
I think of the past and the future
A classic beauty at my time
Now
Rusted and Busted
Abandoned and forgotten
6/15/2016
Categories:
windshields, car, class,
Form:
Free verse
Paul said to press on forward
Towards the heavenly prize
For if we run the Christian race
We will come to realize
That in spite of the prisons in our lives
Keeping us in mental and physical chains
With faith in God our course of action
Will no longer be tethered not restrained
We might need a spiritual upgrade
To function at full capacity
And every new day we need to freshly pray
With a renewed tranquility
Now some people say they don't have enough time
But time is a tangible commodity
We need to learn to structure our time
Using our Christian agility
It's most essential we put God first
And always remember the grace
And mercy that on us He's bestowed
For no man nor woman on this earth
Has the power to help you spiritually grow
When running the Christian race
We need to understand
That if we want to make God laugh
Just come up with a plan
As God has a destiny for each of us
One full of humility and grace
And in spite of the circumstances in our lives
He'll help us run this race
By looking at the Lord and not at the load
By keeping our eyes on God and not on the road
So run the good race with encouragement
From the Holy Spirit anew
And with Jesus as the wind beneath our wings
There's nothing we can't do
So press on forward looking through
The windshields of life
No longer using the rearview mirror
Just laser focused on Christ
Categories:
windshields, christian, destiny, encouraging, faith,
Form:
Carpe Diem
Chasin’ Lighting – In Honor of the CUA Crew!
Several rickety rides held together with the faith of the ages,
Sages some might say, turnin’ pages of things old and things new,
The chosen few, riding with the storm,
Lighting flashing on all sides,
Switchin’ gears from fears of repeating histories to mysteries of new days dawning,
Spawning day dreams of elastic electricity, serendipity,
As Barack ascends,
Inspiring men,
They fight the darkness of hail ridden windshields,
Toggling between the unknown and highbeams of luminescent knowledge,
Chasing a faith strong enough to free the fatherless and set the captives free,
Wrestling not against flesh and blood,
But wide turns of satanic deception,
With weapons of light like mad max before them,
They wage war on the dark roads of Memphis, searching like alley cats like Thunder Cats,
For stitches of acts like koinonia,
Chasing a faith in persistent praya’ for a different tomorrow.
Sorrows fading beneath the commitment to serve a God beyond the schizophrenic nightmare of human imagination,
Sorrows fading beneath the elation of love and mercy eternal,
On their way to Oklahoma City,
Fighting for that Jerusalem which will stand forever,
Caught in the obsession of one singular endeavor,
To redeem the minds of our time, and see a renaissance explode out of the womb of suffering,
7, several, 70 times 7 rides, held together with the faith of the ages,
Chasing the courage of Baptists,
Chasing the justice of quakers,
Chasing the wisdom of Episcopalians,
Chasing the unity of Catholics,
Chasing the power of charismatics,
Chasing the stillness of the upper room,
Chasing pentacostal fire,
Chasing a fire strong enough to speak in the language of doubting atheists,
To speak in the language of agnostic scholars,
To speak in the shalom of the Torah,
To speak in the illumination of the Bagadav Gita,
Convincing Hindus of the ultimate avatar,
The Bodhisattva the Christ,
Converting crack heads into prophets of a blessed age,
They rage against disbelief and catch hold the rhythm of heavenly praise,
That all will be saved,
Several rickety rides, like Battlestar Gallactica, a rag tag assembly of apostles,
Chasing the end of paranoid hatred and the daydream of life eternal,
Several rickety rides,
Chasin' lighting
Categories:
windshields, visionarylanguage, faith, language, together,
Form:
Blank verse
Frosted windshields reflect winter's beauty,
as snow tenderly covers the errors of man.
Winter winds voice their new griefs,
wailing louder than the engine of a van.
A human's breath freezes in the air,
birthing a baby wisp of smoke.
As the warmth submits to icy fingers,
human skin feels winter's frosted cloak.
White visions touch the faulty human eye,
while the sleeping earth snuggles in a blanket of cold.
The white skin of the hidden ground
bathes in the icy flakes of winter's gold.
The sky hides above stern clouds of grey,
shielding the sun from winter's white glove.
Bundles of human beings struggle to move
within the winter's storms of love.
Categories:
windshields, introspection, nature, seasons,
Form:
Rhyme
"The Chain Letters Road Trip"
Freedom Fall 8
removed
her Ray Bans
The Light
was blinding
on the other side
dark tunnels
lead to highways
unrealised
goin’ gangsta
driven
to distraction
hell bent along the
Road to the Lotus Eaters
at Loon Junction
chain letters
flying in the breeze
let loose
out the driver’s side
window,
to the past
like bugs
sticking
to other’s windshields
behind the wheel
terror forming
smiles
one hand steering
the other
retrieves
her android,
voice
activating
Mojo
dials
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” / Pomplamoose
https://youtu.be/z3IGoniElrE
"The Dilettante Diaries: Goin' Gangsta on the Road to The Lotus Eaters at Loon Junction"
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_dilettante_diaries_goin_gangsta_on_the_road_to_the_lotus_eaters_at_loon_junction_1059240
Categories:
windshields, muse, mystery,
Form:
Free verse
Finding new courage many years ago,
I sang a love song in my quiet room.
I never sang dancing wearing a plume.
Nor did I sing live in a bar’s playroom.
I could not, would not, in the public croon.
I did sing it once in a studio.
Musicians there arranged a background tune.
My song went well; and it was good to go!
The records came; yes, it was way back then.
With my plan in place, I soon hit the road.
I traveled on mountain, on hill and glen.
Promotions on windshields, my dream echoed.
Radio interviews … there were a few.
“Make My Dream Come True” flyers passed along.
Air play came quickly and out of the blue!
From state to state I promoted my song.
Security was in one parking lot.
Flyers on the cars; they said were No! NO!
The hundreds I put out were all for naught.
They made me pick them ALL up … BAD; you know!
There were great days and many things to see.
I thought of fame, and where my life would go.
It was one outrageous dream for shy me.
So, I chose to give married life a go!
1/15/2017
Categories:
windshields, anxiety, career, memory, music,
Form:
Quatrain