Long Cabs Poems
Long Cabs Poems. Below are the most popular long Cabs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cabs poems by poem length and keyword.
Reading fridge magnets; surprised how interesting,
the world is when stamped into rubber decals.
Rome, Ankara, both Buda and Pest.
Watching a colorful rolling diorama,
pictographs tumbling over a flat white-scape.
Images recalling airport loudspeakers,
beeping taxi cabs and swaying camels.
I nod at a graphic depiction of a flight of pelicans,
bombing Florida,
imagine Sarasota sheltering under torrents of guano.
There is a decal from Mongolia, the magnet reads:
“Welcome to sunny Ulan Bator!" China is reduced to a
bowl of rice with dragons swooping for crumbs
much like London pidgins.
The Roman colosseum nudges Egyptian pyramids,
old lovers, slowly crumbling away.
I don’t see one for Ohio; maybe they only sell them
in Michigan…for target practice.
The fridge is a travel guide for those that sip morning coffee,
and wonder should they even get dressed today.
There were two cabs I remember when I was growing up.
Checker and Yellow.
070521PSCtest, Picture This 2 - 7 lines, Joseph May
Image chosen-#2; 2 stanzas; 7 lines total;
4 lines + 3 lines; 14 words. 3P
The Red Texaco Fire Chief Truck
David J Walker
I’ve seen them parked on the shelves of
antique stores
Too numerous to count
That Red Texaco Gas tanker truck
Made of pressed sheet metal
Almost indestructible
that, at my young age
And small size
I could ride
all day long
as if making the deliveries myself
Clear in my memory
The year
I got it for Christmas
And rode it
And rode it
And rode it
Until it was parked in the dark of
A Toybox
That was repurposed from a
WWII gun-box
I don’t remember ever seeing it again
Until my walk down memory lane
Where I had to refrain
From shouting out
It’s Mine!
Well, it was at one time
Some are time-worn as if left
Out in the storms of summer and winter
Some have crushed cabs where the
Riders once sat
But some were pristine with perfect
Original fresh paint kept perfectly clean
In original boxes as if never
Having been played with
which made me sad
but I was glad to see them in
this Antique store museum
And it makes me smile
For the while I am
In the store
Looking for more of the
Pressed metal toys of my youth
Truth
Plastic would never have survived
my childhood
~~~~~~~~~
Evening skyline
Glow of last light;
Dark shadows creep
~~~~~~~~~
Green moss
Zen garden stones;
Calmness charms
~~~~~~~~~
Antique shoppe
Old proprietor;
Living antique
~~~~~~~~~
Cemetery visit
Angel statues stand
Guardians of death
~~~~~~~~~
Newspaper vendor
Hazards early rain;
Prompt delivery
~~~~~~~~~
World news broadcast
So many conflicts;
Violent humanity
~~~~~~~~~
Children's playground
Noisy little people;
Fun screams and shouts
~~~~~~~~~
Empty taxi cabs
Absent passengers;
Telling times
~~~~~~~~~
Economic woes felt
Here and there;
Poor job market
~~~~~~~~~
Old Kung-fu master
Long solitary wait;
No students come
~~~~~~~~~
Ginseng root brew
Potent tonic;
Energy surge
~~~~~~~~~
City skyscrapers
Over the horizon;
Pouring wet weather
~~~~~~~~~
Speeding carriages
Expressway crowds;
Sudden traffic jam
~~~~~~~~~
Ancient rooftops
Chinese architecture;
Old beauty glimpses
~~~~~~~~~
Morning joggers
On a brisk run;
Sparkling dawnlight
~~~~~~~~~
Old pavilion here
Leaking raindrops;
Wet shelter
~~~~~~~~~
Chinatown alleys
Shops with odd things;
Tourists congregate
~~~~~~~~~
Little India street
Spicy concortions;
Culture in full bloom
~~~~~~~~~
Words tell
Pictures swirl;
New sightings
~~~~~~~~~
Old hunchback lady
Malnutrition showing;
Struggles for pennies
~~~~~~~~~
Old man gathers
Discarded paper cartons;
Money for next meal
~~~~~~~~~
Fortune teller waits
Cards and incense;
Table advisory
~~~~~~~~~
Empty park bench
No one can sit;
Soaking wet
~~~~~~~~~
Cardio fitness
Gym membership;
Workout a sweat
~~~~~~~~~
Old photographs
Long ago moments;
Brown sepia scraps
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
10 September 2014
Singapore
“as we passed her she did wilt
which caused in us sense of guilt
since our stance perhaps did cause
to put her heart’s joy on pause
though we’re gentle, not hostile
we diminished her soul’s smile
since our aura as she viewed
scent of love did not exude”
Unseeking Seeker
Neon lights buzz to the hum of bustling cityscapes.
Yellow cabs blend into an intolerable requiem of honking horns,
whilst the sun beats down unbearably on names lost in the fold.
Julia feels the despondency start to gnaw into the membranes of her brain,
like termites devouring a rotting piece of pine.
Long before the dampness of decay settled into her marrow, she had aspirations—
but they have long since vanished, like a late spring snow.
Walking with her eyes glued to littered concrete,
she shuffles between the blur of muffled voices,
like a phantom hiding amongst the shadows.
Flashbacks render within the faces of the faceless.
The scent of gasoline and exhaust clings to the air
as a moonless expanse materializes.
Her soul is transported back, pleading for salvation in gasping whimpers.
A chance encounter—an accidental bump of his shoulder.
Phone shattered, she became the target of his wrath.
Vile words hurled, trajectory: her soul.
Physical manifestations of the emotional shrapnel take shape—
a blow to the face, lip splits, warm blood tickles down.
Passersby stare, then quickly scurry away,
too scared—or maybe selfish—to intervene.
Or could it be they've become too jaded?
Surely they meant no harm,
yet the scars of their unintentional apathy
are forever etched beneath Julia's skin.
Hare Krishna's
In their Pickups
Depressed Comics
Down on their Luck
Teenage Girls
Screaming Meme's
Commie Pinko's
Leftward Leaning
Vincent Price
Flo and Eddie
Rodger Rabbit
Priscilla Presley
Nuns in Habits
Dwarf's in Ponchos
Deadbeat Dads
Munching Nachos
Right-Wing Nut Jobs
Trading Slogans
A few Hero's
Including Hogan
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Buddhist Monks
With Electric Banjos
Holding Signs Up
Of Marlon Brando
Taxi Cabs
Blaring Show Tunes
Pregnant Women
Down-loading Soon
Derby Jockeys
Flying Monkeys
Kool-Aidholics
Skittle Junkies
Bozo The Clown
Bumper Stickers
Psychedelic
Crazed Toad Lickers
Rhinestone Cowboys
In their Skivvies
Gothic Girls
Heebie Jeebies
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Blue Haired Granny's
In pink Moo Moos
Ballerina's In
Tattered Tutus
Mathematician's
Number Crunchers
Even have Some
Out to Lunchers
Model 50's
Do Wop Daddies
One More Round Of
Flo and Eddie
People Sneaking
Across the Border
Lonely Fry Cooks
Taking Orders
A Few Wannabes
Not Saying Much
Will The Real Elvis
Please Stand Up
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Thank you...Thank you very Much
Ladies and Gentlemen
Elvis...Has Left The Building
1.
Kathleen
Firehaired love of my life;
She's almost all Cab, with a dash of Shiraz spice.
A deep and complicated, earthy wife
A ruby sparkle in the looking glass
Long on my vision, soft and nice
The All-of-Her bouquet, I cannot pass.
2.
Susan
She may prefer to drink her Cabs,
But the red-maned lioness is pure Bourdeaux.
Her brightness fills a room, and quickly nabs
Away all weak indifference.
The complexity of her shines and glows;
The product of some special provenance.
These ladies make my life divine,
An perfect medly of song and wine.
They may well land on the "NO FLY" List,
For being such charming Terroirists.
Pedestrians rule the city
Cross-lights are ignored
Rushing to the neon lights
Above the night-life doors
The middle finger is a common response
To a car horn’s incessant blare
Flashing lights from billboard signs
Reflecting on pink hair
New York City on any night
No matter the day of the week
Not a place for the mild-mannered tourist
Or a playground for the meek
City lights replace the sun
As if it never set
Don’t go home before twelve-o’clock
The party hasn’t started yet
Taxi cabs will run you down
It’s just another dent
You have not been pick-pocketed
That money you have spent
You can repeat Sinatra’s line
“If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere”
Just don’t be insulted if we are not impressed
Because New Yorkers don’t really care
New York, NY – Night Time
Coming Home - Journeys Of Broken Dreams
Strange journeys,
Of broken dreams, woodland paths,
And mountain streams.
Long long walks between destinations.
Motorways and country lanes,
Railway stations
Taxi ranks
Cities and towns,
Villages.
Silent journeys by bus or car
Long loquacious rides
In eighteen wheeler’s luxurious cabs,
Travelling at the whim of this or that
Modern King of the Road,
Paying my toll by easing his boredom
And not drifting into waking sleep.
Stolen kisses
Exchanged for nights
In warm comforting beds,
A chance to shower clean,
Fond goodbyes,
Long, farewell hugs
Before starting off again.
On this journey of growth and learning.
Nearing and passing,
Approaching and leaving
Until the right time,
Until the petulant youth
Of the selfish ways
Awoke from his coma of growth,
His chrysalid of unthinking exploitation
Into a being ready to give as well as take.
When that day finally came,
After many long months,
Travelling to and fro,
When it was time
For those broken dreams
To finally end
I came back to you
To ask forgiveness,
To make a fresh start,
Appreciate things
Once taken for granted,
Hoping and praying
it wasn’t too late
For the prodigal to return.
And your smile told me it wasn’t.
And so I finally came home.
No one else exists
A crowded city street
strolling a narrow sidewalk,
your hand in mine
Pastel neon lights paint the buildings
in soothing colors,
softening sharp edges,
creating a wonderland
on this cool winter night
A small bistro, street side tables
candle light and tablecloths
tiny dancing flames on white linen
igniting your smile as we take a seat
amidst the din of taxi cabs
racing to find the sunset,
lover’s fare put to good use
in backseat desires
Two glasses of Pinot,
fine crystal offerings
as are your eyes, glistening,
dark chocolate petals
calling me in, hypnotized
free falling into your heart
and I drink them in slowly,
tasting every tantalizing gaze
A toast to us, touching glasses,
touching hearts, changing lives
as I wonder what I have done
to deserve this dream, you and me,
no one else exists, the city bustles
unnoticed as we sip the fruits
of our love on a chilly evening
hoping it never ends…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
…and as the clock strikes midnight,
a joyous noise rings out, streamers flutter in the wind
while fireworks dazzle the skies
and I raise my glass to my friends at Poetrysoup,
wishing them all the happiest New Year!