Long Cadillac Poems
Long Cadillac Poems. Below are the most popular long Cadillac by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cadillac poems by poem length and keyword.
Driving down the distant highways
How can I survive
Just me and my Cadillac sailing free and far
Gravity is pulling all my thoughts towards you
My comfort level contorted
Things was easy street before you mattered
On this broken bodied highway
Strapped in this tin can with only leather straps
In this faster than light Cadillac
Flying passed the fields and pastures
Leaving our Galaxy to infinity with my girl
turning to dust and the rebuilt again
You bring me to my knees in with your beautiful decease
Watching years go by taking my sweet pie time
Did I ever believe if that's what god said
That if I wait, I will get you
Did I ever tell you it wasn't you in my dream
Shelby Shelby I ain't no soldier of make believe
Shelby Shelby listen to what the meadow lark says
Ill be here for you bright an early
Ill be here for you in my own way
Our love has no ending that could say that was
My song has been witnessed
Distant sun pushing flares torching train tracks
Haunting blue sapphire delinquent diamond true
To another disputed day
Know one can say
What is a holiday
Two who are one together in love,
On a carriage road in the woods of Maine.
The day was filled with sunshine,
The air was cool and sweet.
It was a fine, wondrous spring day in Maine,
On an old carriage road
That wound through the woods of Acadia in the shadow of Cadillac,
As strong and enduring as the love of the two on it.
Two who had come to be together,
Sharing their joy and love with nature and each other.
Strolling slowly and deliberately,
Talking, laughing, remembering…
Enjoying each and every minute together,
In such beauty and wonder.
The old road wound up and ‘round,
The birds were singing and so were their hearts.
Colorful flowers were blooming like their love for each other.
Great trees were budding like the romance they shared.
And the insects were buzzing a happy tune – and biting too!
At a waterfall they stopped to kiss and watch, hand in hand,
Glistening water cascading over time worn rocks,
An endless stream like their love and life together,
Flowing softly, dancing blissfully onward into the future forever.
Lite as the cool spring air, they walked on side by side,
Winding up and ‘round through woods tall and green,
Over content little bridges and small streams gurgling, “Welcome”,
Past radiant flowers waving, “Hello” in the breeze.
Then ‘round a bend they went, arm in arm,
The old carriage road wound down and ‘round,
The wind whispered a quiet, “Goodbye, see you again sometime.”
They had come to the end of their little adventure,
But only on one carriage road.
There will be many other roads to share,
Just as sweet, exciting and wonderful,
As they travel together on their journey as husband and wife.
Their live together will always be,
As special, beautiful and full of love,
As their stroll one spring day,
In the woods of Maine,
Together, on a carriage road.
Every Sunday after church
Old great-aunt Dora
Full bloodied Cherokee,
In her finest dress and fedora,
Drove her pink Cadillac
To the San Joaquin River.
She would stop in the same place
And sat on an old stump,
Under a camphor tree,
By the riverbank,
And would cast her fishing pool,
Drinking her moonshine liquor.
Old widow lady of ninety-two;
My dear mother-in-law
Lives by herself
With nothing else to do.
She sits in her chair
Next to the window
And stare out for hours
With dreams of her past.
She carries a small chrome plated,
Stud nose 22, pistol
With white pearl grips
In her purse.
Don't get in her way,
At the grocery store,
She will ram her cart
Into yours and say,
"Sorry I didn't see you."
Then there’s my sister.
“She’s crazy as a Loon;
Howls at the moon,”
My husband would say.
Her long-distance relationships
All in her mind.
Her husband
Doesn’t seem to mind,
But watches over her shoulder
When she cooks,
To make sure
Everything she uses
Is clean before he eats.
Their two daughters
Walked the same path.
Live in a world
Of hallucinations
And delusions,
In denial
Of their illness
Of schizophrenia.
11/19/2020
Six Relatives Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
He drove up to the Triple "T" Ranch in his brand new Cadillac!
In his air-conditioned trailer wuz his Arabian steed an' the finest tack!
He'd dreamed uv bein' a real workin' cowboy since he wuz a tad,
So he fitted hisself out with the latest fashions there wuz to be had!
On his Tony Lama alligator boots he wore a pair uv silver-plated spurs.
Over his Calvin Klein jeans he wore deerskin chaps to stave off the burrs.
He wore a hundred dollar Stetson hat an' fancy vest uv top-grade suede,
An' slung low on his hip wuz a 44 in a leather holster uv the finest grade!
His git-tar wuz slung on his back - across his shoulder wuz a coiled rope.
The grizzled cowpokes chawin' their terbaccy saw in this feller little hope!
They wuz loungin' 'round the corral railin' not believin' whut they saw!
He strolled their way remindin' them uv rhinestone cowboys on Hee-Haw!
First thing he said wuz, "When do we dine and I prefer silk sheets on my bed!"
An ol' cowpoke in scruffy boots an' jeans asked, "Whut wuz 'at you said?"
(The thoughts crossin' them cowpuncher's minds had best be left unsaid!)
"Son, you'll sleep in the top bunk tonight an' beans an' bacon you'll be fed!"
The ranch foreman trotted over to see whut the hullabaloo wuz all about.
"You fellers let me handle this! Ya'all git back to work!" he said with a shout!
He sized the lad up sayin', "Son, I ain't impressed with all them fancy lables!
Begin yer career with this here manure fork!" an' he sent him to the stables!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Suddenly as the robin calls
And the leaves in the trees no longer brown, now fall;
Everyday people having everyday things
Ring out the old bring in the new listen to the birds sings
Spring
Springs here
Come on girls get your man out of hibernation it’s time for fun and games and relaxation
Spring, sprung
Just before the dawn
Oh, and Shirley I would tell you that I saw Michael with what her name
Spring, sprung
Springs here
But then since I won’t because springs turns the best of men;
Into groveling hens, who play and pretend;
NO matter how smart they are;
Or whether they carry a golf club;
Or suitcases to us they’re intact and springs sprung spring here;
Hey, why don’t you all come on over to my man’s house he just bought a 1972 Cadillac;
Eldorado with room enough for just two;
Springs here
Just take the time and come don’t run and trip on over to our place where we’re having fun, having a ball such a jam;
Suddenly the freshness in the air and I guess it’s time;
To open up the closets and close up the shrine;
Come one, come all bring crates loads, and crates loads of Kool-Aid and pop;
Let’s all celebrate the winter days have fell summer winds in the air;
Spring is sprung..
Springs here, springs here…
Written 2/24/1970
By James Edward Lee Sr. ©1970, 2019
Word Toccata in A Major
Jaundiced ’53 Cadillac in my sweetheart’s carport.
She leaves the hole keys inside the empty fish bowl.
Hidden in her trunk are a set of golf clubs with knife wounds;
Her secret boyfriend with the purple tattoo of a face scar,
Recites from shotgunned memory the Love Song by Mister Eliot,
As my sweetheart bathes upstairs with a fleeting candle and Camay,
Pure white, and scented as eucalyptus breaths in the cooing moonlight.
Fevered ’49 Commodore parked luridly in her back alley.
He retrieves the hole keys from within the empty fish bowl.
Hidden in her trunk are a brace of golf balls with black bruises;
Soon he will trudge through fairway greens in pursuit of exotic birds,
Reciting Prufrock with two young robins pecking seed before him.
Upstairs now, he relaxes in my sweetheart’s bath with Camay and a gun,
Pure crimson, and scented as medusae bulbs in the screaming moonlight.
There was a man whom fortune really blessed;
All things were brought to him at his behest.
Of cars he had not one but a whole fleet,
A spectacle when they were on the street.
This rich man’s cars were source of his great pride;
When he drove by, men looked at him green-eyed.
He had the fastest, smoothest, newest wheels--
They truly were the king of all mobiles.
There was another man who lived in town,
Who got the worst of fickle fortune’s frown.
He worked so hard to stay in this life’s game,
And dreamed to have just one car to his name.
As the rich man’s car collection increased;
The other poor man’s troubles never ceased;
So he grew old and dreamed when day was done
Of a Cadillac but he never had one.
The rich man died later as all men do--
And brought to the grave in a hearse not new:
It had been used so many times before
To bear the bodies, whether rich or poor.
Alas, the poor man also did expire!
Freed at last from too long in the mire.
His body was borne by a hearse that’s black--
The town’s newest elegant Cadillac.
March 26, 2023
Fairview, Baguio City
'Tis so nice at Christmas time to receive a colorful array of cards,
From kith and kin sending their warmest Yuletide regards.
I don't mind receiving bills or a summons to serve on a jury,
But opening a card and finding a Noel letter causes me some fury!
Such missives detail the doings of their entire family tree.
I have no idea who they're talking about - it matters not to me.
Their perfect kids are doing great, earning scholarships to Yale,
Yet there is no mention of one who 'tis well known ended up in jail!
So they bought each of the kids a brand new DTS Cadillac,
And they vacationed at their fancy condo in Fond du Lac,
But no mention that Mom and Dad are due in county court,
To begin bankruptcy proceedings since money has come up short!
Junior is a super-star on the local high school football team.
No doubt he'll be picked for an NFL team - that is his dream.
But no mention that he was quietly benched during mid-season.
He was caught smoking something funny seems to be the reason!
I enjoy receiving traditional cards depicting Santa's ponderous girth,
And especially those telling of the dear Savior's wondrous birth,
But please spare me those inane letters and their gobbledegook!
I'd just as soon relax by the fire and peruse my telephone book!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The taxi speeds down the highway
zig zagging to miss the potholes.
It slows as a horse and cart crosses,
followed by the owner's dog.
On the other carriageway people wait
hoping someone will give them a lift.
An old Cadillac smokes its way down the road.
In the town, buildings are like well-worn pairs of shoes –
they fit, still function but have seen better days.
But the people are well nourished, clothed and clean.
Smiles of genuine happiness are all around.
This is a country which lives to a different pulse -
Ché its heartbeat,
Fidel its lifeblood.
People are living the revolution where others have failed –
common wellbeing before personal gain,
society’s hallmark is equality and colour-blindness.
Educated and cultured, enjoyment is beyond the material.
Musical rhythms set the daily pace.
There is a determination to live and succeed despite hardship.
But is it only hardship when seen through Western eyes?
The freedom of spirit is to be admired.
But what does the future hold?
The greatest challenge is yet to come –
influx of other peoples from not so far away.
¡Cubana!
It's going to be another hot Amarillo day, but as I emerge from my car, the morning is still only warm with a gentle breeze blowing. I quickly cross the frontage road and head down the packed earth path. In the distance, I can see my destination, ten Cadillacs with hoods buried and tails sticking out of the ground. The last time I had seen Cadillac Ranch the cars were shiny and recognizable. Now, they are merely metal shells with their insides worn away, spray painted a gallery of colors. Hoping to add my touch to these masterpieces, I am disappointed to find the cars are surrounded by a pool of soggy clay mud, sure to adhere me to the ground as securely as the cars if I step in it. So, grabbing a purple spray can, I add my initial to the alternative works of art on the packed dirt, a small part of myself left behind until man and the elements wear it away, too.
Cadillac garden
front ends planted...tails aloft
graffiti blossoms
6/29/18
for Mick Talbot's Haibun Poetry Contest