Racing Car Poems | Examples
These Racing Car poems are examples of Car poems about Racing. These are the best examples of Car Racing poems written by international poets.
I’m racing round the NASCAR scene,
With bugs and grit upon my gleam.
The rubber flies, the dust goes wild,
Screen’s smeared, rip it off, I cried.
Tear it Off, Rip it Off!
Shatter My Veil,
to Crystal Clear, Please!
Got no time to wipe, stop or weep,
My tear-offs are stacked ten deep!
Snatch and rip my world to clear,
Let's end the pit-stop clutch gear.
I weaved through fumes and bumper brawls,
Blasted like bullets off the walls.
My screen is chipped by flying rocks.
Ripp'n the socks off track-worn crocks.
Tear it Off, Rip it Off!
Shatter My Veil
to Crystal Clear, Please!
I'd love to see my tear-off fly.
My flimsy film sent screaming high.
Maybe I'll see Vegas, before I die.
Take me to where I'd rather lie.
I’d trade this helmet, car, and game,
For brighter lights and louder fame.
Ditch the garlands, trade the shows,
If this screaming screen just goes!
Tear it Off, Rip it Off!
Shatter My Veil
to Crystal Clear, Please!
Race Car
The driver is one with the machine.
Every turn on asphalt would be tires burning.
A V8 with horse power, the car flies down the road.
Turn up the music and push the pedal to the floor.
Need for speed while the tires grip every turn.
What a rush to fly by while the oil burns.
This is the life of a man in a locomotive.
With torque the gears turn crank down shift.
Racing down the speedway on a straight away.
Man and machine compete to win the race.
Just one more lap through the trees down the road.
The checkered flag is just a mile to go.
Drifting around the corner.
Why do race car drivers drink milk when it’s over?
Under the sun the engine is on fire.
Pass by all the slow pokes with power.
Just like a spark plug the lightning keeps striking.
Like a racehorse, it charges to keep on fighting.
Driving fast is like having the feeling of being free.
Just you and your car, this is the way it has to be.
I’ll admit
I’ve
Thought
About it
The moment where
The ground underneath my feet
Reverses
My life
An old film strip
Burning up after the last breath
With the weight
Embedded to my bones
Of mere existence
Leaking from
My skin
Like bubbles racing to the surface
Sharp points
Of windshield glass
Like freckles on my face
Numbing
The feeling
Of lukewarm red
That makes me
Look like
A morbid drip painting
The scissors
They hold cut the one restraint
Holding my body here
Making me
A puddled mess
Of a being
Crushed
Up against
The hardtop
Where my future aspirations
Wishes and dreams
Are now just stains on asphalt
alfa romeo
convertible at high speeds
freedom redefined
The Chevy speeds by
eyesight pings it,
a reflexive vision
momentarily catches itself
looking back.
The barn is vacant, not empty,
its eyes have been locked open,
it bathes in sparrow and bat time.
Now hollow lids capture, snatch at
a headlong flight of vision.
A snap of fleeting attention
has stabled a glance in a timeless stall
where dust hangs
in a slant of suspended light.
Road barn and car are frozen
as one symbiotic after-image,
until all disappear into each other.
Then without pause or passage
horizons are released,
distance and perspective amended,
as the tremor of a splintered
looking glass
fades behind racing wheels.
Legend of the 2JZ
The Supra roars, a mythic beast,
MK4 legend put to the test.
With 2JZ heart, a symphony
of power unleashed, wild and free.
The twin-turbo whispers, a hungry growl,
as horsepower surges, taking its toll.
It dances and glides on asphalt ribbons,
a silhouette fleeting where passion resides.
The JDM icon, a cult’s desire,
A legend forged in automotive fire.
From street to track, it reigns supreme,
A masterpiece, a racing dream.
The 2JZ whispers a song of might,
a testament to engineering’s light.
The supra lives in every gear,
a timeless legend held so dear.
Not seeing you would be like
Driving to Paris everyday
But the Eiffel Tower fades away
Not talking to you would be like
Owning a Lamborghini gleaming gold
But its tank runs empty in the cold
Not being pillowed by you would be like
Racing across continents at light-speed
Without comfort that I deeply need
Not hugging you would be like
Traversing through untamed terrain
With no safety to ease my pain
Not holding your hand would be like
Steering without direction or guide
No purpose, no path where I can ride
And if my life was really a car...
Not loving you would be like
Crossing endless miles alone
Just pushing forward on my own
Till there's nowhere left to roam
-
We are not all meant, for the driving of fast cars,
And some will only ever be backseat drivers at best,
So why do they expect us all to be able,
To travel in the fast lane on the internet,
When the consequences of not looking where we are going,
Can cause more harm and misery,
Than that related to any real world car crash past or present.,
Do those in charge of the internet not understand,
That most of their online drivers control more than one set of wheels,
And even a minor engine failure through lack of awareness,
Of the need to change gear when traffic is at its heaviest,
With the prospect of more than one winter of discontent,
If they miss the warning signs.
Lock up your daughter,
My wheels gonna slaughter,
Heading along the road,
Race ya, drive this load,
Beat you all, speed patrol,
Trailblazer, this my role,
You'll never catch my page,
I'm the star of this whole stage!
Three cocktail sausages jumped out of a tin
Off they went in a Ferrari for a spin
The weather was perfect, the ride a breeze
Everything was going well, until one sausage began to sneeze
Sweat dripped down the sausage's skin
It fell out of the racing car and wished it were back in the tin
The big wheels of a jeep almost crushed it but the wind blew it away
And nobody ever found it until today
Twisting turning
Engine burning
Never learning
To slow it down
Fires stoking
Tires smoking
Ever joking
A common clown
Racing master
Always faster
Near disaster
The best in town
Loves to brag
Will never lag
Checkered flag
The winning crown
It’s a muscle car, a super car, a racing car, yeah
She’s speeding down the highway, with the wind in her hair
It’s a muscle car, a super car, a racing car, yeah
Burning up the highway like she don’t have a care
It’s a muscle car, a super car, a speeding machine
Shes speeding like she wants to go too fast to be seen
It’s a muscle car, a super car, a bullet on wheels
Only she could drive while wearing stiletto heels
It’s a muscle car, a super car, it cuts through the night
She’s flicked a switch and now it’s lights are piercing and bright
It’s a muscle car, a super car, I’ve got to be there
Now I only see its lights and yet I don’t care
It’s a muscle car, a super car, it’s freedom or bust
It’s steel at speed and frankly it’s why I bit the dust
It’s a muscle car, a super car, and it sent me off
For its laminated windshield wasn't good for a moth
The sound of metal scraping on asphalt, echoed through the frosty morning air, as the trailer slid and skidded, leaving chaos and destruction there.
The semi-truck came hurtling fast, its trailer swerving, out of control, I felt the impact as it struck my car, a moment that shook my very soul.
My mind was racing, filled with fear, as I fought to keep control, the truck careening all around,a scene that was beyond my goal.
The trailer flipped, in slow motion it seemed, a moment is frozen in time, my heart was pounding, my breath was short, as I braced for what I feared was my last climb.
Though I walked away, the injuries were real, more than just a few bruises to reveal, my back was sprained, my pelvic bone cracked my life was forever changed, my future attacked.
Bulky ute voyeur selects sleek sporty stalion
Driving by, supersedes her oversized sedan
Wide wheel arches have Porche comparison
Voracious engine's enthuse easily enchants
Large car cast dispelled by lacklustre Calais
Original conjur 370Z parked beside boring
Low leg swing exclusive slide in, magic valet
Over revved start stabs adrenalin assuring
Our dear Dara, choice contacted in December
Available last minute to test drive his beast
Black gloss road boss, enlarged 'lungs' terror
Capable crazy bitumen baby, tester pleased
Ultimate Man concurs, the amenable outcome
Keys in her hand a few days after, aura froze
Couldn't imagine huge generosity from anyone
Racing car reap, increase on what she sows
Merry go round roads, another showoff slotted
Silver pole stabilised glides in Surfers cycle
Crosslane carousel onlookers, briefly besotted
By hot hoof nimble Nissan race horse style
28th March
Too Great of a Man
Cracked often reminds me of pecan nuts.
Cracked also reminds me of earthquake scars.
Mostly cracked reminds me of Jerry Butts
Who loved driving Italian racing cars.
When he drove, Jerry often munched cashews,
While wildly weaving down roads he would choose.
Jerry switched cashews for sunflower seeds.
Spitting split shells out at a breakneck pace,
Once some flew back and lashed his bearded face.
With shells dancing in his eyes, he raced on.
That was the last time Butts cracked any nuts.
His sports car cracked on a fresh earthquake scar.