Sleek Car Poems | Examples
These Sleek Car poems are examples of Car poems about Sleek. These are the best examples of Car Sleek poems written by international poets.
My car is flashy
A beautiful red
Lots of chrome
Her name on the back
Her name is prestigious
Her wheels are flashy
She is sleek and chic
Lighting up her name on my driveway at night
When I open her door
I feel honored to drive such a queen
Night at the gates
Underneath the velvet sky, where shadows softly creep,
two titans stand a nocturnal sleep.
The Lamborghini, a turquoise dream,
reflecting moonlight, a liquid gleam.
Beside it waits, a hunter’s green,
the BMW, a sleek machine.
Each with its allure, a silent vow
of power, speed, and how.
The air is thick with anticipation’s hum,
as engines slumber, a muffled drum.
Awaiting the signal, the green light’s gleam
to unleash their fury, a waking dream.
The Lamborghini, a bull unleashed,
a power surge, a primal feast.
The BMW, a panther’s graceful stride,
a symphony of speed where passion resides.
Each with its own story, a journey untold
of victories won and spirits bold.
A testament to dreams and the will to achieve,
a legacy of power, that will never leave.
The night unfolds, the city sleeps,
but these two titans, their secrets they keep.
Awaiting the dawn, the call to arise,
to conquer the road beneath the open skies.
I want a car, an older car, a 56 Corvette
That will drive down the highway miles, speeding fast with no regret.
I want a car that's sleek and smooth and gives one helluva ride.
An old car that knows its stuff and can do a "Hollywood Slide".
What kind of car is that? My eleven grandchildren scream.
It has driven by slowly, and it is my childhood dream.
a 1957 Chevy, sleek, black, full of chrome, I say.
Coveting the red leather seats as it drives slowly away.
It doesn’t look like any contraption we have ever seen!
I know this is true, I wave to the driver as if she is the queen.
She is driving my dream and I am out of words as I watch her go.
Adding this much chrome is something today’s car designers do not know.
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
I am sleek and sexy
My lines are more than fine
I have a paint job that is simply sublime
I chase down the others
And maneuver in and out
I make my driver scream, laugh and shout
I am a beauty; others are jealous of me
My racing stripes are as pretty as they can be
Get out of my way. I am coming hard and fast.
Get out of my way, Grandma. I so want to pass!
I am streaking and straining, and my engine is hot.
I am an incredible piece of metal; often well sought!
My 442 Oldsmobile was the hottest car around
No sexier red thing besides lipstick could be found.
When you pressed on the medal, that baby flew down the road.
When you were inside her, you were no longer a toad.
She had pizzazz and jazz, she was sleek and fine.
Red hot with thick black stripes on her hood, all in a line.
She was the utmost, the best, the prettiest ride in town.
This gorgeous Oldsmobile matched everybody's gown.
She was hot, she was fiery, she was fantastic, she was sick.
She was the best thing since beef and noodles, pleasant and quick.
When she took a hill, she showed you her fantastic traction.
When I drove my 442, I had immense satisfaction!
My car is not a reflection of me.
She’s sleek and sexy and runs with glee.
She’s magnificent as she can be.
She’s fast and fine; laughs with a tee-hee-hee.
I truly wish she was a reflection of me.
I am totally jealous of her you see!
Camaro
Sleek, fast
Racing, flirting, streaking
Sexy, fine, cumbersome, chunky,
Plodding, plugging, inching,
Serviceable, dependable
Minivan
She's black and sleek
And strong not weak,
She's loud and fast
When you hit the gas,
Her tires profile low
When heated up they make her go,
Put her up in fifth, her highest gear
She's a 4.6, with an 8 cylinder,
In her red leather seats a black steering wheel
Speed is the adrenelin, today you want to feel,
She turns the corners and hugs the road
And never exceeds to carry her load,
With the windows down and the rush of air
You can feel it swirling through your hair,
This is where you want to be
Meet my Mustang...Fast4 50
Ford Anglia
Ford Anglia, Ford Anglia,
You were always my favourite Car.
Distinctive shape and two-toned colour,
In the showroom, you were the Star.
Cortina, my Cortina,
Your sleek lines made a statement.
People would often turn their heads,
In wonder and amazement.
Zodiac, mighty Zodiac,
A real Man’s motor was this big boy.
Leather seats and chrome hub caps,
The Daddy with his pride and joy.
Escort, oh classic Escort,
You certainly broke the mould.
A family car that thrilled a generation,
So popular, millions were sold.
The old Fords had some character,
Unlike Fiesta, Mondeo or Focus.
Though the exhaust fumes weren’t too green,
Carbon Monoxide used to choke us.
I love the rims on the wheels of my car,
Each rim that’s made out of steel,
And I love the spokes tightly holding these rims,
I love how they each make me feel.
Hundreds of tangential shiny small spokes,
Crisscross from the hub to the rim,
All of them a dark, metallic bright blue,
Makes the car all slick, sleek and slim.
Together they make her big, bright, distinguished,
An air of grace, style, and poise,
And when I drive her, I become all gentry,
No longer just one of the boys.
And then there’s the torque, her true pulling power,
Owned by each wheel dressed in blue,
Simply measured by the number of men that gappingly gawk,
And say that they all love her too.
It is hot out here
Don't tell me about a sweater
I think the sun is broken
Walking down the same asphalt sidewalks
Still the same faults as summers ago
Sunny silken shine to the sheen
Sleek and shellacking was a
Cadillac acting like a fact
High powered proper schemes
Have you ever dreamed, really dreamed?
What a sham, scan this scam, damn.
Hot as ever.
Mango icee treat
Ice Coffee, cookie ice cream soda dreams
City nights screaming
Southern boulevard, hear them
Trying harder playing loud music louder
Scream holler holiday haze
Money matters now we crazy frying
Eggs on the hood of that car
Ice cream truck summer luck.
Such and such
Pros and cons of city life.
It's hot out here
Don't tell me about a sweater
I said, I think the sun is broken
No more ink in my pen
Is it sinking in?
HOT WHEELS!
I went from broke to buying a Lamborghini,
Price tag not so teeny,
Sleek and black, for my Driving Academy,
Or should I buy the red Ferrari,
Command a salesman to 'comprare'?
Wouldn't he be a happy chappy?
But would it make me so happy?
I would be buying loads of stuff,
But when you've old, you've got enough!
To me, consumerism is in vain,
My peaceful simple life in the slow vain.
So, today, I didn't but the Ferrari,
Or indeed, the sleek Lamborghini,
There was no Hot Wheels Driving School,
Consumerism as a manipulative tool.
Stupid. Drunk. Speeding. Andrew. 80. Captive adrenaline. Heart racing. Flying by life.
Afraid to move. Andrew sleek-faced infant. Stuck to the wheel. Frozen staring straight ahead.
Untainted flesh still untouched. Running a red light. Striking a tree. Catapulted from safety.
Breaking through glass. Lurching towards asphalt. Bones crushed. Death slides closer.
Thrust it away. One last glimpse. Before the lights all drown. Swallowed by slippery light.
Final forced breaths. I die. Painted. Red. Stupid. Drunk. Speeding. Andrew.