Long Chevy Poems
Long Chevy Poems. Below are the most popular long Chevy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chevy poems by poem length and keyword.
Jesus in Town
David J Walker
Jesus could explain life like no other
Riding in the back of the 56 Chevy pickup
The Farm to Market roads
Crossing the country of a summer
Lost in Lea County
New Mexico
We work
They pay
Is about all he would say
in broken English
Nosotros trabajamos
ellos juegan
in his TexMex Spanish
Someone else is getting rich
My uncle would btch about
Matters of money all day driving
the John Deere tractor
dragging a cultivator
over dirt as cracked and dry as his lips
A lit Pall Mall cigarette dangling
from the corner of his mouth
Smoking and swearing
there was never any money
At the end of any month
on this G-Damn rock farm
At night Aunt Nora put a hot supper
On the Formica-top table in the kitchen
Over the linoleum floor
Are you trading for a new truck
She asked
But she knew the answer
Maybe
said Uncle Ed
she knew he would
If he could
after the harvest
The Farmhouse was
six miles from town and
At night
When the fireflies came out
And the cicadas sang their
Monotonous seasonal songs
We sat on lawn chairs looking at
The distant lights in town
As if it might be a
Better place to go
There might be a
picture show
with newsreels and
cartoons
and popcorn
The paper comes only once
A week so I never know
What’s showing or going on
Jesus said there was a
Mexican Movie in town
And he might go
But
He never does
Survivors
by Michael R. Burch
(for the victims and survivors of 9/11 and their families)
In truth, we do not feel the horror
of the survivors,
but what passes for horror:
a shiver of “empathy.”
We too are “survivors,”
if to survive is to snap back
from the sight of death
like a turtle retracting its neck.
Published by The HyperTexts, Gostinaya (Russia), Ulita (Russia), Promosaik(Germany), The Night Genre Project and Muddy Chevy; also turned into a YouTube video by Lillian Y. Wong. Keywords: survivor, survivors, victim, victims, family, families, 911, 9/11, terrorist, attack, terror, terrorism, empathy, sympathy, truth, horror, death, survive, survival , violence, pain
I cried until I could not cry any more.
Because she is gone, leaving me behind.
That’s what I thought anyway.
Until I ran across her phone number in my I-phone.
I am hard on myself now, angry I cannot get it together.
I cried again until I could not cry any more.
Because that number stirred me up.
I’m okay now. Ready to return to work. I can deal with this.
Until a red Chevy pulls up beside me, and I think it’s her.
I am hard on myself now, angry I cannot get it together.
I cried again until I could not cry any more.
Because I was so disappointed when I saw a stranger in that car.
I’m pulling it together now. I can do this.
I turn my car around and head for home and I can barely see.
I am hard on myself now, angry I cannot get it together.
Why can I not be as compassionate and forgiving to myself as I am to others?
When you are grieving, give yourself a break every second.
A break every hour is not enough. And talk to the person who has left.
She is around you, waiting, hoping. It will make you feel better too.
Here's a tale of a white Chevy Corvair, I car I'll never forget
Repossessed from a gypsy, I'd be willing to bet...
On a cold, snowy winter night, February 1968
This 'bagel' was to drive the gang and me on the interstate
From Chicago, IL to Racine, WI, a basketball game there to play
I groaned to myself: "We'll never get there. No way!"
The tires were bald; both windshields were cracked
I searched in the trunk: neither spare tire nor jack
This junker burned oil something terribly fierce, and the
brakes were suspect, which was probably worse
But we all piled in, eight of us in a car seating five
We were cramped like sardines, more dead than alive
And as soon as we started to pick up some speed
Two floorboards gave way; that's all we didn't need
Gas fumes swirled round our heads, making us light
What with the snow and the cold, the driver couldn't see right
Somehow we piled out at the gym, stumbled onto the court
When our bagel exploded to bits, with lots of smoke and a snort
The game went by in a daze and a haze, as the bagel flamed out
Taking a train home, we cursed that Corvair the whole ride throughout
July 14, 2019
The Old Jalopy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Some have watched her rising
from an ocean of time.
Her sightings return at the pull
of each luna cycle.
No clamshell boats for her,
after she rises from the waves
she and the shoreline disappear
she's only to be seen driving a classic
Chevy convertible or riding
a gayly adorned donkey.
She is sister to desert nights,
and all the dance moves
of the free roaming winds.
You have seen her, you know her,
she is the one that comes to you at night
on moonlit slippers.
She's neither old nor young,
Venus is always for your best years.
When the moon begins to starve,
she returns to the sea
vowing everlasting love
to the constantly cresting waves
of your heart.
When was the last time you bought a new car?
Bells and whistles, beeps and bops.
They have cars that will take your car to shops.
Type in fun and it will turn around
Take you to the party town.
It has automatic ice seats that cool your thigh
When the temperature is way too high.
You do not have to ask for anything fancy, loud or brash.
It is already there, built into your new car’s safety dash.
It tells you there is an out-of-control Chevy driver up ahead.
If you continue in this lane, you will maybe end up dead.
Blitz. Fritz. Blink. A new alarm now.
Something big is in the road, could be a cow.
Push this green-pink emergency button in a pinch
It will shorten your car three meters and an inch.
Here is a button that pushes magical arms out to slap away other machines.
As some have lost control, and your car does not want to hear your I-am-dying-screams.
Buzz, bugger, buzz.
Back up cameras, and mirrors to the side,
Show you all the traffic, no one can hide.
This button puts you on lift high in the air.
Your carriage is over the top of the other cars now.
You have not a worry; you have not a care.
All you have to do now is pay for this gigantic wow!
A boy King was born in Bethlehem piquing the interest of three very wise guys.
They came from the East guided by a mysterious Star streaming from the skies!
They got a fix on the Star with their GPS and with AAA aid, planned their route,
To make the trek to that unlikely place to see what the hoopla was all about!
They mounted their royal camels named Chrysler, Lincoln and Cadillax.
(Lesser breeds named Chevy, Honda, Kia and VW toted MREs and packs!)
Reservations were made to stay at Oases Embassy Suites along the way,
Ensuring they provided swimming pools and golf courses on which to play!
They took along a generous supply of gold, frankincense and myrrh,
And platoons of Green Berets as guards should any funny stuff occur!
Their route took them o'er mount and vale and through dunes of shifting sand.
Sans their GPS and I-pods they would've become lost in that desolate land!
As they neared Bethlehem, they enquired, "Where is this King of the Jews?"
They were told, "Take a left on Palm Mews, then a right to Holy Mews!
There you'll find Him wrapped in swaddling cloths in a modest shed.
There was no room for Him at Holiday Inn so He was born there instead!"
They paid their respects and presented their gifts as they knelt in adoration.
Learning in a dream of Herod's plan, they high-tailed it East in a new direction!
Herod tried to find where the sweet Babe lay and his innocent life destroy,
But he lived to become King of Kings regardless of Herod's nefarious ploy!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I despise her. She is loud.
He is my nemesis. I could tell you stories….
They are the worst neighbors of all.
If their car was any closer to my fence I would shoot holes in it.
If I had a gun.
I cannot stand the new guy with the pick-up truck.
He is your typical Chevy driver.
They always pull out in front of you.
I would never date one of them.
Just a second. The neighbors are….
”HEY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”
I have to tell you, these neighbors are stuck up.
Won’t answer a simple question.
I hate all of the neighbors except for you.
I like you.
That’s why I never turn you into the cops when you are speeding.
I don’t like it, but I have not called them yet.
Damn! A solicitor is banging on my door.
If I had a gun….
Look for the black and white cow,
the water tower,
the high-school where astronauts
grew up to be dancers.
If you come from a foreign land
truck-stops provide rest and release.
Be sure to always wear plaid.
90 miles east of Wapakoneta
on US 33,
you can catch a small plane out.
If you are caught unawares
be sure to visit
the bicycle museum.
The young women
are the fairest in the land.
Freckles are still legal.
Males are predominantly
red faced.
There is very little prejudice
against corn-dogs and hogs.
Drugs of choice can be found.
If you drive a banana yellow
Chevy Corvette
you are asking for trouble.
Information regarding how to leave
can be had at the Dairy Queen.
A comely girl works there part-time.
She may look at you
as if you had horns
growing out of your head,
but keep nodding and smiling,
until she points a finger
southward.
It’s a straight shot
down I-75.
~~
I got water and weed
I'm richer' n richer
I ain't in need of cash
you can drop me your trash
gonna make me an art
for the East Jesus shrine.
Hear this from a wizard
ole Stalin is the man
red dolphins are the truth.
Plastic legs on the roof
of my old pink Chevy
(not been to the levee)
Barbie girls, haunted dreams,
painted rats and crosses;
all singing at the Range.
Slab City; nothing's strange
a show called Jester J**z
sings semen has declined.
Blue pig fortune tellers
in yellow school busses
grow purple-flowered weeds,
sell early traded beads.
The wind howls, the dogs bark;
the dreamcatcher misses.
I chase empty beer cans
for one that might be full
use ultraviolet lamp
in Pink Flamingo camp
I am just another
wandering refugee
Snowbirds come in winter
UPS delivers.
Past Salvation Mountain
there's no soda fountain
for those that don't believe;
head back to Babylon.