Long Chevrolet Poems
Long Chevrolet Poems. Below are the most popular long Chevrolet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chevrolet poems by poem length and keyword.
It was another senior high school dance,
and it was you that asked me to go
the graduated senior home on holiday, in the know,
those old memories had made you miss your chance;
but it was me with two left feet
trampling toes on that floor in shame and defeat;
the well-worn gym was decorated for the fall festival
colors of autumn in passing, yellow, orange and brown
and your reputation revived as the old class clown
and I, loving you my high school crush back in town.
The pleated dacron dress was a rounded neckline high
snug on my shoulders glowing with turquoise flowered sighs
that somehow matched your well-pressed suit and tie
as my father frowned seeing your hand upon my thigh;
Mom, however, knew the drill and simply said he should remember
and off we hurried to the dance that late November
what a story we could tell, those days of teenagers ready to rebel,
shortening my skirt as we left the old Chevrolet you loved so swell,
through the doors, we heard the music vibrating in quickened start
and I never once denied you any dance because of my heart.
We would do the twist, the watusi, and the mashed potato
and slow dances seemed so outdated
but with the stroll, I could always catch your eye
and we 'd saunter off together in the Lady's Choice
while you sang to me in a deepened voice
if only time could find its way
to return to those our best glory days
when you and I were young, unafraid and believed we could fly
dancing to the dreams we had back then
let's keep on dancing and believe we can do it all again.
Shake it, shake it, shake it baby.
for Kim Rodriguez's contest
Dance with Me back to the 60s girl.
3/12/20
Migrating to America
In the age of Aquarius
Envisioning the best from the
Land of opportunity where it’s been said
Streets are paved in gold
Everyone has a white picket fence and
A Chevrolet too
The corner hop served burgers and fries
Soda fountains and milkshakes at the Five and Dime
Teens danced the twist and the mash potato
On American Bandstand
And kids played under open fire hydrants in the city
Black is beautiful…
Short afros large afros and James Brown
Tell the people “Say it loud, I’m black
And I’m proud” Bill Withers on the radio
Singing ‘Lean on Me’ and
Shaft is a ‘Bad mo fo… watch your mouth’
Watts turned into ash driven by black rage combustion
Fed up with police brutality still fresh on everyone’s minds
Jesus Christ is a superstar on Broadway
Harry Krishna and the Moonies in orange
Garbs and shaven heads trying to transcend souls
With their tambourines
Flower children preaching peace and love
Pot is something you smoke
Hot pants are short shorts
Worn with boots made for walking
And Uncle Sam wants you
He’s giving a free round trip ticket to Vietnam
While young men dodge the draft
Welcome to a new dawning in the age of Aquarius
Migrating settling in a new land
Leaving behind adolescence and easy island living
For a future to fulfill dreams in a concrete jungle
On migrating to America.
Remember all those tea ads with the chimps on?
We’ll prostitute the Prague of Gustav Mahler
and desecrate the divas of La Scala.
Would Bart betray begettor Homer Simpson
(he’s not so much a whoreson as a pimp-son)
to get himself a Chevrolet Impala?
You bet he would. This is the Grab-It Gala.
The cripple pawns the plaster that he limps on.
In Pasadena, Pimlico and Perth,
the only thing we´ll go without is girth.
Where JP Morgan’s played by Colin Firth,
we airbrush self-awareness, muffle mirth,
and drown in plenty, blink at moral dearth.
We're always prizing price-tag, never worth.
It happened in the BACK yard underneath the willow tree
When I first kissed her and when she first kissed me
It happened in the BACK seat of my father’s Chevrolet
When underneath the clothing our hands started to play
It happened in a BACK room during a party at our friend’s
When both of our virginities came to an awkward end
It happened in the BACK of our favorite eatery
When I made her cry, dropping down upon one knee
It happened in the BACK of an ambulance with flashing lights
When our first child had entered the world with an awful fright
It happened coming BACK from a night out with the girls
When a speeding, drunken driver took her out of our world
Now, I and my children try to stay on the right track
Waking every morning wishing we could have her BACK
The R&R's of marvin, 1st rule you will go to sunday school and every sunday n' for goodness sake don't say I gotta headache. growing up in poppa marvin's world was a daily mindblower it seemed he was in a mode of raisin' us good and like I say-daily. he had a way of showing affection with each one of us and there was 10 of us. one day we's all in the front yard looking for daddy to come around the corner on his bicycle getting off from work, it was beautifully wicked, daddy comes around the corner and pulls up in the driveway and we all said it at the same time-we gotta car! daddy justa smiling knowing he once again did real well for his family, we all hopped into daddy's 1952 powerglide Chevrolet. I googled it-powerglide, 2 gear automatic. special events there was always an associated scent wit it, made for impressions. my special one on one event wit daddy I was the only kid he would let hop into mr. Hamilton's stinky cigar funeral car and ride down to the local radio station for the Hamilton's family hour and they would tell the listeners who they plan to bury that week. daddy would start the program singing: have I given anything today..impressions probably why I became a radio personality. poppa marvin, man that guy was special, we would go on these sunday school picnics to different places, I remember swimming way out in this pool and wow, an undercurrent in ah swimming pool! daddy was so cool he was right there and lead me to safety and he never mentioned it. I took many clues from daddy on how to treat a woman with his interactions with my momma gladys, one evening I hear momma in a very concerned tone-marvin let's go to our room we never argue in front of these children-another R of the R&R's of marvin, not only give counsel but take counsel. I loved growing up in the south wit my daddy he had good rules, the town I grew up in had good rules especially for teenagers we had some adult privleges real early. the day I looked at that highway patrolman wit this wide brim hat on his head as he handed me my north Carolina drivers license in my daddy's 1952 powerglide Chevrolet-I was only 13..i miss you poppa.
I drove my 50's Chevrolet down route 66
The place has atmosphere, a kind of retro mix
Classic diners, neon signs, and towns that time passed by.
Then I put Meta glasses on, powered by A.I.
The place transformed and the old became like new
Rusted chrome turned shiny, it felt like 1962.
All the men wore hats, grim faces became merry
And the music in my ears was Maybelline by Chuck Berry.
I took off the A.I. glasses, I needed to focus on the wheel:
The painted desert started, it was pretty, it was real.
Then a Harley rode by my side, Hell's Angel on the seat
I looked behind and saw a motorcycle fleet.
Then approaching toward us, The Mongols on their bikes
Things were getting hairy, so I pulled off, took a hike.
Guns started blazing, I was in a fix
All wasn't love and roses on route 66.
I hid behind a Pinyon Pine, then had an idea to try.
Put on those Meta glasses, powered by A.I.
I looked back at the carnage, and saw Custer's last stand
Threw away the glasses, the Mongols were in command.
So now I'm back in Trenton, I've reordered glasses there
Our local shootouts would give even Custer a scare
At least with Meta glasses, history can reappear
to the mundane and old, it gives a gloss veneer.
Hold on, Washington just crossed the Delaware
He's charging at the Hessians, bullets in the air
I'm afraid to remove the glasses, afraid of what I might see
Maybe my existence is now history.
Kicking an empty beer can,
right down the middle of main street.
Taking time to stop and talk,
to any friends that I might meet.
Hey Red Rover, Red Rover,
come on over if you’re not scared.
Spin the bottle, take my chance,
trying for the girl with red hair.
With an ice-cold Coke and a,
grape pixie stick for us to share.
Walking on the hot steel rail,
with no shoes and never a care.
Why is your beer so yellow,
cause it’s filled with vitamin Pee.
Pass me another cold one,
anyone seen that darn church-key.
‘57 Chevrolet,
bright cherry red and blazing fast.
Cruise the square and Burger bar,
trying hard to make the night last.
Steering wheel in my left hand,
the other around your shoulder.
Planning for a life we’ll share,
together when we are older.
Garage filled with minivans,
children’s toys scattered on the yard.
Have those few hours between,
work and bed always been this hard.
This heat makes it hard to breathe,
as summer forces us to hide.
Sit in air-conditioning,
and never stick our nose outside.
Napping in our rocking chairs,
eyesight dim and hair faded gray.
I know that I have been blessed,
to share with you those summer days.
1964, Saturday night, 7 p.m.
Mom has prepared meatloaf, scalloped corn and baked potatoes.
We are okay with this, sitting behind our TV trays
In the living room, waiting for Lawrence Welk to come on
Surrounded by wallpaper of giant green philodendron vines.
We are impatiently waiting for our favorite TV show.
So we can see the fabulous Lennon Sisters.
We have their paper dolls, don’t we?
“And now a word from our sponsor”.
But it is more than one word.
It is “see the USA in a Chevrolet”
and then it is “Plop Plop Fizz Fizz Oh What a Relief it is!”
Suddenly a Spaghettio commercial comes on.
“Mom! Can we have Spaghettios next Saturday?”
We say this in unison, not understanding
We just insulted the dinner she had spent an hour preparing.
Nutter Butter. Almond Joy, Mounds Bars, and Cherry Mash.
Those candy manufacturers know how to name to get their cash.
We contenders scoff; we snicker and sneer.
The toymaker crazy idea brigade has just arrived here.
Someone throws out, Betsy Wetsy, Tiny Tears, Shrinky Dinks!
The contest is on, we are throwing down our inks.
Uh-oh. Star Wars George Lucas has entered the fray.
R2-D2, Han Solo, and Chewbacca have paved his way.
I do not mean for imaginations to get crazy, you all.
But is that manly cowboy, John Wayne, giant and tall?
Whew. Relief. False alarm. Just an advertising man.
From the 50’s, with a Marlboro cigarette in his hand.
“See the USA in a Chevrolet,” he screams loud and clear.
“Winston takes good like a cigarette should,” Trixie screams, and all hear.
What are you doing? I hiss, slightly embarrassed, and fully miffed.
Garfield comes in next, with his pal, Heathcliff.
A haughty sixty’s model brings in Beatniks, Hippies, and Happy Faces anew,
Informing us that the 60’s and 70’s was where words really came into view.
What about our urban dictionaries? The 1990’s delegation screams.
We invented words faster than a Mattel toy-namer figured out Barbie in her dreams.
The contest is on, now, the whole imagination convention is dancing and twirling.
My dendrites are hopping, clogging, doing somersaults, flipping and swirling.
What about those music videos? White-gloved Michael Jackson asked.
When his creative prowess enters, everyone promptly is aghast.
Are we doing words, ideas or what? I hear a contender scoff.
Three prissy judges get mad, and two promptly walk off.
No matter what, the creative committee is having a field day,
Meeting in Room Sixty-Two thousand ideas, and we all want to play.
Here’s an idea, one screams loud and clear.
Let’s just throw out some words, and scramble right here!
Trixie is ready to drop our hat into the ring.
She jumps right in there, to do a bit of Jell-O wrestling.
I am proud of my muse. I give her the wink.
She grabs Donald Duck, and she gives him a twink.
Her medal is all over the place, in shades of yellow and pink.
We are having a great time, our ideas on the brink….
We come together as a family; my friends and me.
Each bringing what we said we would.
Two or three bringing extra things that are duplicates.
Six people, and we have three pumpkin pies.
Hilarious! We laugh about it.
Everyone talks at once, telling the same stories.
We pause at the same times, ask the same questions.
Laugh with appreciation, pretending we have never heard them.
We are friends, who have formed a family.
For our families are young, doing young people things.
We are older, and have more in common because of it.
We talk about the original Saturday Night Live shows.
We start 1950 commercials and finish them for each other.
“Plop plop fizz fizz……………………………….oh what a relief it is!”
“See the USA in a ……………………………………Chevrolet!”
We have made Thanksgiving into a family event.
Our family, the family of friends.