Fenders Poems

Stick Figures in Front of Oldsmobile

Skinny kids
Wrinkled clothes
Crooked windows
Non-symmetrical
Snowman slightly off center
The “Olds”
Wrinkled fenders
A round-headed driver
A teetering toboggan
Hanging from its roof

The artists
Sipping hot cocoa

Miniature Golf

Crash go the fenders
    Smash goes the car
  Shattered, the windows
    Hey, we broke par!

The Cowboy Car

Jolly rancher bought a car with no wheels,
with no tranny, no fenders, and no seals 
he has prepared horsepower 
and the platform was a dour 
but he just couldn't reject the cowboy deals! 

Written: May 1st, 2022

3TH PLACE CONTEST WINNER

High Noon Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May

Checked by HMS.COM

Lines 1, 2, and 4 Have 10 Syllables each
Lines 3 and 4 Have 7 syllables each

Thoughts of a Tired Toyota

You think all I ever need is a full tank of gas
But my old fenders and taillight need repair
I grow weary of the way people stop and stare
Whenever I sputter and belch as we pass.

No proper chick will ride in my torn front seat
The evening was a total waste of my time
I should not complain, it was not on my dime
But, please, could you turn down the beat?

I’d hoped we might run into swell-built Christine
With the high-end Chrysler rear-end jack job
But you persist thinking you are the real heartthrob
While neither of us approaches being pristine.

You might grow into a reasonably handsome hunk
And luck out with a good job, two gals on your arms
Do not worry about me, I won’t sound any alarms
By then I’ll be only the remains of this pile of junk!


written May 20, 2021
for "Personification Poem 150" poetry contest
sponsored by Caren Krutsinger

HONORABLE MENTION
"Personification - Comments" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Evelyn Cheung
All Poetry

Septuagenarian Serenade

Septuagenarian Serenade
By Sy Roth


It wants to warble a fine tune
It wants to fill the night with a pleasing glissando
Rising and sliding into joyful jig

Instead, the brittle vocal chords are ill-defined wolves
Howling at a laughing moon, a dismal lunarscape 
Ripe with lingering pains engraved in time

A dusty bin filled with some dismal memories
Working hard to shake out the motes that were in their eyes
Tearful threnody of movement closer to the door.

It wants so desperately to dance that two-step
A pas de deux of clever invention
But the hip sings a screechy declaration

Voids the temptress to ignore the mirrors
That auger the realities of time
Begs for the release of the agents of calamity

Where upturned carpets, lost spectacles
Dings on the fenders of vehicles long past
And missed names and familiar faces fade.

The song will have to remain in the head
Whirling from broken synapse to broken synapse
And the eyes will have to tell them the story of desire.

Stopping By a Woods With Sincerest Apology To Robert Frost

I think I know whose woods these are
He lives across from me, not very far.
He will not care I've stopped here to pee
Snow is drifting to the fenders of my car.

My old mobile idles sluggish in the cold
Wondering, I guess, why I'd be so bold
To stop without a gas pump near
Between icy road and ditch I've rolled.

The other sound I hear is distant chain
An eighteen-wheeler chugging down the lane
The woods are growing darker so fast
I haven't much time, but no longer in pain.

The road becomes more treacherous by the minute
I have a crucial, pending vote in the U. S. Senate
I have no choice; I am pledged to cast it,
I have no choice; I am pledged to cast it.


HONORABLE WINNER
Poetry Contest by Kaye
All Poetry
July 31, 2021

Transformation

That's my mom
Foot on running board
Big, black,1937 Caddy
Huge headlights
Spare tires in fenders
Cigarette in hand
Stylishly dressed
Turban and flowing pants
Big smile
Clyde's Bonnie never looked so good
...Great photo

Here she is again
50's drab house dress
Cigarette in hand
Expressionless
My mom
...Sad photo

Posted 10/20/19

Cool Moe B

Cool Moe B

Back in the day we used to pray
 Others say it ought not be that way
 Snake pit, lion's den you need someone to be your friend
 Your a soldier in the army of God

 Cool Moe B in the place to be
 Rocking them rhymes in the land of glee
 A city kid playing high on his grid
 Shook the bananas pole with a tea leaf

 Downtown hoods shooting dope in the back alley
 Fixing with the switch homeboy got a nervous twitch
 A beacon of honor in his high vested swag
 Shooting pool in the patio needing a place to go

 Smoking weed watch it bleed it will knock you to your knees
 Brillo pads for fenders is it any wonder
 The soldier in the middle playing second fiddle
 Take me back to those good old days getting lost in a purple haze

 Hoops dreams watch the bitches scream
 Another dip of an ice cream flavor
 A stereo or capper me and Eric B with a nice full plate of fish
 Sorry that I missed burning this switch as we go free style

Whim of the Reaper Grim

An unnoticed jostle in a crowded hallway
A sudden cool breeze ‘pon the nape of ones neck
Near miss in a crosswalk yesterday
Fenders crunching in a nearby wreck

A tap on one’s shoulder
And there’s no one there
Fleeting pain,  deep in one’s chest
Leaden sensation of weight
Pressing down on one’s breast
 Cold breath in one’s ear
From out of nowhere

Tis the unseen Reapers Grim
In their bustling about
Reminding us of our own mortality
Day in and day out

Their job is without end
Death but a constant part of life
Their Patron is Satan…
God, chance and fate… 
Kismet and Karma, 
Sickness and strife

So…the next time you feel
An unexpected chill…
A shifting shadow
From the corner of your eye
It could just be…you know
Your time to go
Or simply a Reaper
…Passing by…

Christmas Day

All the Christmases distant past were all so very memorable. Except for one Christmas I truly remember, 
especially because it was unforgettable.

My parents and I gathered around the tree Christmas morn. 
Many beautiful presents I found, 
I was torn, which one to open first.

I looked about the room, there behind the tree 
stood a large clumsy wrapped Christmas package.  
I asked, “Can I open that one first please?”

Unwrapping the package with quick fingers,
I tore at the string and wrapping. 
Then, ecstatic screams of joy with tears and wails 
it took my breath away.  
There was the Schwinn bike I saw in the store window
that my heart simply craved and yearned. 

My parents looked at me with pride and joy and said,
” Merry Christmas!”

My eyes were fixed upon the bike with a smile; 
it was the most magical moment of any Christmas.

It was a bright red, with shine chrome fenders,
and tassel hanging down the ends of the handle bars.

For all day long I rode.

12/15/2016

Santa Came To My House

Santa came to my house,
he was quiet as a church mouse,
cookies placed upon a plate,
all frosted and tasty as he ate,
he chug-a-lugged the cocoa drink,
making his mustache turn dark as a mink,
after a belch or two he pulled out an enormous box,
tugging on something shiny and red looking sleek like a fox,
it had two wheels, a horn of its own and fenders just my size,
this was the bike of my dreams and considered a prize,
his large hand squeezed the horn and made it toot,
laughing to himself he got on the bike, a fat and jolly old coot,
he was having too much fun on my brand new bike,
I ran downstairs and yelled at him to take a hike,
Santa stared at me and pulled on his curly white beard,
he was at the house real as life and suddenly disappeared,
I looked ll over and realized I might have hurt his pride,
but he left me with a shiny new two-wheel bike to ride.

My Life As a Car

My Life as a Car

Rusted and busted see my orange face
Used to grace the showroom place
See these broken eyelights that shone so bright
They saved your life one darkened night
Edsel body, wet shell to forget
Dear little voices asked “Are we there yet?”
And still my memories are mildew clear
Now through the busted fenders to yesteryear
Down the road we'd go far and wide
By rolling hills of still countryside
Uria finally got his license one day
So, in the back seat, he and Neat did lay
Taking lunch on a hunch by the road
Early moving morn and those three trunk loads
Days soon came with the clanks, clinks and pings
Can’t start, what’s wrong?  everything
As grass grows up under my lowly gears
Road memories are crystal clear

Vintage Noir

All the people stop and stare,
they don't care, they don't mind the street-lights. 

Bumpers kiss, fenders bend, I saw her grin, when she saw them glance again.

Black skin, with the wild hair, ripped denim laminated on her derrière. 

Leather in the summer, ask her if she cares, all the people stop and stare.

Black vintage with the wild hair.

Heartaches Pass

Smiles express, tears depress;
friends dwindle, fools abound.
Efforts fail, hearts confess;
eyes beckon lies confound.

Rivers flow, souls, shutter;
doubts linger; passions flame.
Truths falter, words stutter;
fears fester, feelings blame.

Bonds erode, friendships bind,
teardrops fall, dreams desist.
Insults hurt, beliefs blind,
egos bruise, pains persist.

Grapes ferment, needles sting,
gamers play, babies cry.
Bellies ache, fenders ding,
eagles fly; soldiers die.

Failures fade, hopes renew,
spirits haunt, debts amass.
Hugs assure, hurts construe;
sails unfurl, heartaches pass.

Suspenders and Rear-Enders

There's something about suspenders and Rear-enders
And even if you may be running into fenders
To me and many, it might not be a big deal
But suspenders may get caught in steering wheel.

It did seem to start becoming quite drafty
When I saw someone cunning and crafty
Drinking many margaritas which were mixed
Which apparently is how people get their kicks.

To a Hill-Billy high balls may sound strange
And minds have been known to mentally derange
Then a dead end street you had ended up on
Just ran out of gas when it was all gone.

Red light, green light or could be caution
Mixed with margaritas create quite a concoction 
Or even Coca Cola mixed with much rum
And lots of lime, you should also add sum.

Soon I realized and as a matter of fact
Can you imagine the incredible impact
Bloody Mary Margaritas were a disaster
And pretty near put me out to pasture.

James Thomas Horn
www.poetrysoup.com

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