When that cold winter comes
and the chilly wind does blow
best stay indoors
as it's freezing down below
but enquiring minds need to know
who ploughs the roads
so the snowplough man can drive to work
and plough the snow?
Verse 1
You drive me through the night
Arctic Monkeys on repeat
It feels so cinematic
I'll keep this memory
Your palm is on my thigh - I like the view
Don't let this moment end - I love you
Chorus
And it’s only us and the city lights
You tell me some dad jokes
and you like my smile
I’m biting my lip
checking if I’m asleep
It’s just too good to be true
Oh man, keep doing what you do
Verse 2
You say you want to ride
Till the morning meets my face
You turn the music down
I’m lost in your embrace
You’re looking in my eyes
then at my lips
You’re leaning close to me
and then you kiss
Chorus
Automobiles and dwellers, both got a life.
Easy and haughty from the glimpse of sight.
Cars greet one another apprehending a horn Wading through the motion of life.
This is what one say an eye for an eye.
I, the oldest, bristled With the tales.
With ardour in each other full of faith.
Countenance on vehicles and dwellers prevails.
Awful the situation is to exhale.
Tears from the sky, Dawn from the sun.
Cry for the reaproachful Situation at burn.
Shoddy lives ,those susceptible To the nature.I feed in the glance of dreariness of the life.
On starry, moonlit nights
Or those pitch black ...
These are the roads ...
I drive forth and back
My tailights and headlights
Go rolling through the mist,
Scattering newly dead leaves
With a turn of my wrist
Fenders ruffle the wildflowers
That grow high by summer's end,
Brushing them with wind ...
As I go sailing 'round the bend
The fog through my fingers flows
Cool, damp almost eerie to feel,
Sends a shiver along my bones
With one hand on the wheel
Time, it disappears out here
Old songs on the radio,
All around spin tones of gray
Driving as fast as she can go
Between midnight and morning
A lonesome hour for some,
Here you'll find an empty seat
If another soul wants to come.
Frivolous half-
tone heathens over-
hit the hive mind's fa-
vorite flavored com-
ing hither in-
side out of
strike zone slav-
ery walls.
Red Earth
Red barns
Red rooves
Hold up day time stars
Heavy summer air
Light summer rain
Family farm since 1785
How many have moved off since then
Let's hop in the car and take a drive,
Top down, the wind dancing through my hair.
Nowhere in particular—
We'll simply know when we've arrived.
Country roads stretch before us,
Wildflowers lining the way
Like our own private parade,
Each blossom waving as we pass.
Ahead, a mountain rises,
Reaching toward the morning sky,
Beckoning us onward,
Inviting us to follow its winding roads
Until we stand upon its quiet peak.
Let's go for a ride,
Just you and me,
With nowhere we have to be.
We'll soak in the sights,
Listen to the songs of the world,
And let the journey become the destination.
gravel drive dust mingles with sunlight
Engines revving
Pushing back
White mustang,
Black mustang
Horseman
Drive by
Red dirt
Red barns
Red rooves
Holding up
Daytime stars
Driving on a two-lane road,
my mind focused and easy,
no worries, no mental load,
I felt good, free and breezy.
Chatting with my backseat child,
enjoying together time,
our moods were playful styled.
All things were surely fine.
A sports car came way too close,
then it slowed, but it did not pass.
Just then, my son’s question rose,
“Why is that man doing that?”
“Son, it’s how traffic news is signaled
when drivers' voices cannot be heard.
Middle fingers mimic the crass tones
of a vile species called 'Greeting Birds."
Urban Drift
[Verse 1]
In the city lights, I feel it in my bones, Suburban dreams, but I’m lost in the zones,
Riding through the streets that echo my past, urban vibes clash, can it ever last?
A new type of hurt, cannot shake this feeling, swerving through life, just searching for healing.
[Chorus]
Urban in a Suburban, where do I belong?
Swerving ‘round these corners, trying to stay strong.
A new type of hurt but I will find my way,
In the mix of the beats, I will carve out my day.
[Verse 2]
High rise thoughts, they loom like the towers,
Feeling misplaced, losing track of the hours,
Flashing back to where the roots used to thrive,
Now I am caught in a maze, just trying to survive.
Not deserving, but chasing the dream,
Lives like a movie, not at all what it seems.
[Chorus]
[Outro]
So here I am, lost but still awake,
In the city’s heart, I’ll never break.
out in the country
nature is all around me
a complete calm found
My family is a car,
It runs smoothly if all are present
My dad is the engine, strong and smooth
He runs the car and is the powerhouse.
Without him, the car would stall
Because he makes the decisions
And he runs the household
My mom is the wheels
She drives the car
To wherever it is needed
She checks the decisions and has her say
So to question her is a nay
Because without the wheels, the car can’t go
My grandmother is the windows
She gives us advice
Whenever needed, she lets the air flow
So we can think clearly
Thanks to her wisdom
My brother is the brakes and accelerator
Because he’s the youngest
When he’s hyped, the car speeds across
But when he’s sad, the car slows down to a halt
So, that little mood meter is just as important
Then there’s me
I’m the other stuff
The seats, the lights, the comfort
Without me, the car won’t feel like a car
Because I help make the car feel like home
So my family is in a car,
Run’s smooth if we’re all present
We need each other, just as much as ourselves
Driving is not a sport for the unrehearsed,
practice makes perfect on a speeding track.
The steering wheel is a discus, blunt and capable of slicing/dicing.
A handbrake? A pull-snap-stop bone break.
Electric windows are guillotines; seatbelts are nooses in softer attire.
An Olympian goes for gold; drivers should settle for bronze on a road.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.