Honks Poems

GEESE WITH MOON ON THEIR WINGS-Wings of Farewell

GEESE WITH MOON ON THEIR WINGS 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
gentle autumn breeze murmurs
summer’s farewell song
geese with moonlight on their wings
in flight and headstrong
across stellar sky
their honks a gentle refrain
never asking why

Destination

So when you are in my life. 
And you have created a map with a star on the destination to your heart. 
Know that I might get lost on the way, missing billboard signs and road signs. 
But most importantly, missing exits to return home to myself when the traffic jams and honks are too unbearable to get stuck in. 
Sometimes others' destinations to their hearts aren't always a road you have to travel on if it requires you to take roads you know aren't safe.

Flock of Geese

                a flock of geese honks
              flying in blue skies above
                       slow busy traffic



Heidi Sands

9/17/24

(C)opyright

not dismal drizzle full

it is a rainy August day in Kansas
dismal?
no, rather drizzle full
An exciting day
I am meeting Molly, my granddaughter
joy parades through my veins
at nineteen, I am thrilled she wants to meet her antique grandma
but she does
she honks and waves
cuter than the last time I saw her
which was a month ago

Sirens and Horns

I'll tell you about the Traffic Cop
Who stands on the road, a rigid prop. 
A whistle in hand, a stern, fixed stare, 
A battle with chaos, a daily affair.

His uniform was bright, a badge on his chest,
A symbol of order, put to the test. 
He waves his arms, he shouts with might, 
Trying to tame the traffic's plight.

He sees the rush, the honks, the speed, 
A constant threat, a desperate need. 
For patience, for care, for rules obeyed, 
But drivers, it seems, are often swayed.

By haste, anger, ego, and pride, 
Ignoring the warnings, they swiftly glide. 
A world of impatience, a race to be won, 
Leaving the officer feeling so undone.

He's seen accidents, tears, and pain, 
A constant reminder of life's fragile chain. 
He's faced with insults, with threats, with scorn, 
A lonely figure, often forlorn.

Yet still he stands, with a steadfast heart, 
Protecting lives, playing a vital part. 
A guardian of roads, a symbol of law, 
Deserving respect, a standing applaud.

So next time you see him, with the whistle in hand, 
Remember the danger, the life in his stand. 
Show gratitude, patience, and care, 
For his service to all, beyond compare.

Fast Food Near Me

She’s driving safely.
While I’m tapping furiously.
“Fast food near me.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
An idea! An idea.
Scrolling.
That sounds good…
Red light, green light, yellow light.
She’ll eat anything.
Except what is in this three mile radius.
My eyes are strained from my phone.
As hers are from driving.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A car honks, and I look up.
I see a bright sign to our left.
I put my phone away. 
And point to the restaurant.

Duck Soup

"duck soup"


quack quack

Harpo honks

canadian geese

Parallax

I had been driving for decades.
A yellow Buick, deluxe convertible circa '51',
the model with the three-speed manual transmission -
8 cylinder.

A deserted desert diner. The door creaks
as I enter,
green tomatoes fry on a skillet.
I throw my fedora,
feed bread into a counter toaster.
A woman appears, drying her hands.

"You've found me in my old age -
how impolite of you."
She says between disapproving lips.

She is indeed old, her face lined and
yet lovely.

"Is that your Buick"?
Before I can answer, she asks,
"is that your hat on a rack at the back"?

I answer, "I think this is our date."

"Only this time you're the pitiful figure." She interjects,
spooning tomatoes onto a plate.

I remember how badly I had treated her,
making my excuses, leaving early in the evening.
"This is it!" I exclaim.
Our second chance!."

A withering look.

"In my story," she says, "you die young on the highway,
in a ball of flames."
I imagine my black charred hand
on the big white steering wheel
as may horn honks impatiently.

Green tomatoes sizzle
as I disappear.

Summer's End

Breaking the silence at Summer's end;
the crackling crunch of leaves can be heard.
And the wind wails at trees that won't bend;
proclaiming such resistance absurd.

Songbird chicks have fledged and spread their wings;
their sweet songs have all but petered out.
No longer tethered, time cut their strings,
and gave them feathers to fly about.

The honking calls of migrating geese
reverberate as they fly in flocks.
And when snowflakes fall, those honks increase;
in response to calendars and clocks.

Winter approaches as a light snow
falls gently, covering Autumn's dead.
But soon, flurries aggressively blow,
burying everything that hasn't fled.

Bell and Horn Compared

Each time ringer sounds a bell
He has something big to tell;
Like driver who honks horn
And just few ears would it scorn…

News from Bell as from Horn sharp:
Messages on which lips harp;
A bell gets all men involved,
Sins of lateness not absolved;
Cars’ horns say you could be crushed,
Survivors to doctors rushed!

Each time hitter strikes a bell 
Things well might turn to hell:
Fast actions to leave one’s shell
To prevent yells of “Oh! Hell!”

Soldiers’ Horns for Approved Wars,
Bells of churches to change whores.

Wake Up Call

A distant motorcycle drones
Fading away
“that” dog barks
It must be 8:15
A bus honks
A siren sounds
Jet engines overhead
A quick dream
The furnace kicks in
Breakfast!
Maybe pancakes?

John G. Lawless
©4/8/2023

Lakeside, the Music Plays On

The lake has its own orchestrated acoustics.
The quaking of oboes and the bassoon-ing honks
of a skein of geese 
conduct a loosely scored morning air.

Rustling reeds chime in fluted stems, 
a wind section throats through its hollow notes,

and then there is you.

you who hesitantly strum 
within each lip-breathing earshot

nevertheless

your strings are tuned high
to the vibrating moment.

All this ‘a cappella’ is inside you now
like a chick cracking though its own eggshell.

You look around your shoulders
searching for the composer
see nothing, only a naught that imagines
paused fingertips above a keyboard.

Will you sing now or depart unfinished?

The ensemble of the assembled
has left.
You can try again
when your inner metronome
is less bolted to its mechanical tongue,

but for a time
harmony nest elsewhere.

A Stray Pekinese

In Toronto roamed a stray Pekinese
Who learned how to talk from a couple of geese
Now at home in the Bronx
he never barks, just honks
as his owner begs for a little peace

2/27/23

Goosey

A gaggle of geese in the Bronx
Were confused by competing honks
With traffic so slow
There's not much on show
'cept gander at the honky tonks

Watch Out For the Heron

Watch out for the heron, warned goose named Duce.
When he honks at you his spittle is loose! 
How will I know him?
I asked Uncle Jim.
Feathers louder than Canadian Goose!

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