Metaphor Car Poems | Examples
These Metaphor Car poems are examples of Car poems about Metaphor. These are the best examples of Car Metaphor poems written by international poets.
Neck pulsating, close shave shines over whiskers
Stiff collar pressure, raced anticipation simmers
Key twist intrigue spurs engine's orange rage
Needle throws redline on wide torque gauge
Jaw rigid, fingers grip cockpit lethal leather wheel
G-force grabs chest, insolent beast thrusts surreal
Monster inflamed incredulously adheres to tar
Salivating lion's ravenous rumble has zero par
Ripping up bitumen, sardonic responsive tyres rivet
Road shred's exhausted under rocket fume exhibit
Airtight capsule, caramel cow hide hugs tamer
Eardrums hum, a hundred mile Hyundai shamer
Brawny tawny gold, hot bonnet chrome flashdance
Purrs her melting eclair aerodynamic performance
Pride's pilot elevated by moorish horizon hunts
Hungry headlights still prey with stealthy stunts
30th July 2022
Written for Contest: Joy
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
No mystery life's road for me
Unafraid, drove fast, carefree
Yet now it's hard to turn the key
and where, O Where's my warranty
March 06, 2021
All Yours (March 08) Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Downhill dart
In a hard rain
Brakes squeeling loudly
Yielding no refrain
No line to start
Only a race to begin
Staring at death
Not expecting to win
Trophy worth taking
The poles are level
Showing no fear
Mimicking the devil
Pall Mall blazing
Fumes fade fast
Confidence fading
This feeling won't last
Chasing destiny
Life can be a hairpin turn
Reasons written in books
On pages that were burned
Champion to the moment
Clinching the wheel
Finish line in sight
Seems so unreal
Stories soon forgotten
As quickly as they're told
Dead end ahead
Race for the gold
Living in infamy
Instead of breaking just bend
Ride off into the sunset
Disappear in the end
You cannot change the past, as time is linear
Time is but a limited automobile.
It cannot move backwards.
It’s rear windows, a definite ebony.
It’s windshield wipers invisible to the eye.
You can drive
Awake, for the car does not drive itself or you
You drive it while it guides you
You are not your fate, but your fate is what you become
Whatever you mean
Fate takes you where it takes you
Fate is in control of your life
But so are you
Put your hands on the wheel
Foot on the gas
Drive, but don’t stop
You cannot change the past, but you can live in the present
Time is but a concept, fate is but a friend.
This friend has no end
For its end ended before a new you had begun
This car is Right, always moving Right.
I dream of you coming close to me making my motor
accelerate, you see, it fuels the fire that lingers.
Using your sexy sensual fingers, you slide your key
to unlock my sweet door, opening knocking you of your feet.
Captivated by my classy beauty and now obsolete, you slip in,
slump into my leather seat warming me up with your cheeks.
You find me physically ravishing, savoring my steering wheel and gear-stick
as you gently caress me lovingly. In utter temptation you thrust the key
into my ignition, depressing with your left foot on my clutch moving
my gear-stick out of gear before starting, pressing firmly on the
brake and clutch pedals to allure me to start and purr.
Before you back out, you can't help, but grab my mirror
to see how Foxy, you look behind my wheel.
11/9/2019
Poetry Contest: Metaphor Of Love
Sponsored by: Bobby May
- a terrible homage to e.e. cummings
she being gently
-used; and you
know a bit loose i was
careless with her and (having
never changed her oil tested
her gas felt of her car bor aytor
and knew her springs were k.
o'd) i went right to it flooded
the engine stalled
her out, wore out the
clutch (and somehow
pulled the e-brake hard wtf) next
minute i was back in neutral tried
her sparks again turned
the engine and brought her all
to a bone shuddering
stop
(and called aaa again).
Bronchial car chugged along,
As if it was a train,
Its tyres were bald,
Needing treading,
Its color unhealthy pale,
Its window glasses almost porous,
That you sit in four,
And possibly take a tour,
Was a surprise,
It seemed like our old folks,
Bronchial, pale and unhealthy,
If the old car was to tour,
It has to be cared more,
Same for our old,
You have to care and be warm,
And simply not a hostile cold.