Long Freeways Poems
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Got yourself some new wheels, huh?
I can hear the squeals of rubber burning
I cough exhaust…left behind, oh gosh! I’m holding just a pile of dented fenders…
suspended… Your bucks spent. Engine Red..that foreign bred truck!
Snap, crackle and Popular Mechanic…Look at the maniac go….!
Holy, Moly….must be rolling in dough!
Woe is me, a junk yard dog, pile of junk, smelly sneakers left in my trunk
There he goes….who knows where….how many horses…under that hood...?
Should I know? I’d fly too, if I could. Just scrap metal in my bellow.
Heavy pedal, limp and wasted..used to be his favorite girl…kept me polished, waxed
and oiled…now I’m soiled. No garage..no umbrella, who gives a rip? Worn out
engine, give up the ship! Cast away…..not in style…gave a ride to Gomer Pyle
“See the USA in your Chevrolet"…, ‘cept that I ain’t got no carburetor
See ya later gator…what’s the hurry fella? Did ya see the light was yellow?
Red light, yellow light…. see if we can make the green
Going green….going green,….does that mean his hybrid’s clean?
Anti-freeze, it makes me sneeze….can’t I have some oil please?
Give ‘er the gas, let’s see what she’s got!
OH.. forgot!…ain’t got my tires..I’m retired
Pubescent male migration, arcing over sunless streets
Hear that squeak……doctor told me oil leak
Honest Engine, joined the pack, no Pontiac to take that ride
Is there heaven for old cars? Car 54 where are you??
I got my kicks on Route 66, running relays, no baton, just open freeways
Son of a gun…give it the gun……vroom.. vroom… run… run!
One door closes, need new hoses, or I don’t go nowhere… no how
Pile of rust, I’ve been busted, up on blocks…what a crock!
My teeth and pride are all knocked in…windshield wipers brush a tear
Windshield wipers swipe the years…skid marks show behind my eyes
Teeth and pride are all knocked in, guess I’m just an old has been!
______________________________________
a stream of consciousness
Comfort zones go into hibernation every winter in Chicago
Only the tough skinned, strong willed, and native-born survive Chicago
Long live the reliable snow movers and the great transportation system
Doing your best to keep blood flowing to the extremities of your body is wisdom
Contrary to many opinions, Chicago is not heartless or cold blooded; just cold
Highways, freeways, and toll roads will always help you reach your goal
I was out one winter near O’Hare International Airport, and my feet nearly froze.
Clearly, I should not have driven a VW Bus that was fun to drive until it caught a Chicago cold.
And it's true that Chicago is a windy city by the lake; it’s also icy cold in Winter
Go to Chicago, where nothing seemed to halt, and where I got so cold that I could barely talk
On short days or long, right or wrong, life goes on; and shoulder to shoulder, people continue to shop on State Street
09052017PS, Acrostic Fall or Winter, Janice Canerdy
The sign of the times
is becoming blind to the wise.
So why compromise?
why cry over high tides
and lies?
When we already know
the inevitable
will only come and pass us by.
studying a round ball with maps,
seeing fine lines and freeways
leading the way to mazes,
obstacles and traps.
feeling the need for democracy,
yet debauchery
is prevalent in this hypocrisy,
does one feel my philosophy?
falling buildings under construction.
Man, woman, and babies take cover
from the warnings of mass destruction.
crack heads and junkies running from the feds.
breaking into medicine cabinets
to get high off the meds.
a baby having babies is amazing.
going from one to another asking,
are you the father?
MAYBE!
Just looking in the mirror
with no surprise of compromise.
This is just as is,
when one lives
in the "SIGN OF THE TIMES."
THE ROADS I'VE TAKEN
I've traveled down some of lifes long roads,
they get you there, and they take their toll.
I've cruised the freeways without a care,
the top down, tunes up, wind in my hair,
and I felt each low road bump and hole.
Can anyone know what a road will bring
having never traversed it before?
'Tis safe when the roads are close to home,
'twas fated when they all led to Rome,
but life is the open road, explore.
Who know himself tries to pick the road
that suits his unique disposition.
When the dusty road chooses the man,
and he's doing the best that he can,
the journey brings dreams to fruition.
Fresh black asphalt winds among the trees.
The open road calls neath skies of blue.
The road doesn't care to know your name,
regardless of your fortune or fame.
In this ol' world all you have is you.
Lost and alone on a dead end road
there's no one else on which to depend.
Life never promised you easy street
or cursed your path so you can't compete.
Your life to live, or not, in the end.
Remembering we talked Jesus like it was yesterday
Like new nation with hopes and dreams,
we ponder future our journey began
Racist world among hearts, eyes see truth,
knowing what trust has to be seen
Loyalty of human; being the one who stand
I've watched highways turned freeways
Soul screaming peace fighting from inside
Graves dug early while old past away, many die
in vain its evil presence lurking
Population soars like legs open to world
Countries crumble sinister control of human race
Man can not live free unless price be paid, usually
death be found in end
I've watched world grow becoming man I am
I am integrity, morals of love's emotion feeding
Purpose unto ourselves as our fellow man
What are we that we are not ourselves, except we
thrive thin line we walk
I've watched world grow, people not so much
Trees ripped apart, hemp could save the eco
Bust through ozone, China claim be first to moon
Are we living lies like Hollywood scene, picture we
paint from behind close doors
I've watched world grow, from child a adult I became
Falling sometimes, I am only human or
am I more my spirit shines light
I'm kind at heart, soul darken waste land
into the abyss of unknown my depths
I've watched world grow but who is it that
it has become
You were once strong
Never wrong
Now you are dead
I have so much pain
To swallow this verbena
You are indeed dead
I have so much pain
Deep in my heart, no stamina
And of course no legs
It's raining cats and dogs
I weep, wail and cry
I suffer, smother and die
I don't know what's going in my bones
Through me, what’s rocking and shaking me
And causing controversy
Where the sky is littered with drones
You were so pretty
And obviously so strong
But now you're dead
No, this is not a song
I do not know what to do
If I should scream and shut up
I do not know what to do
If I should put up or give up
Or let drown deep in me
The heavy sorrows and the fatal weights
Now everything annoys me
The day and the night
I cannot find the right
Detour on the freeways
Too many roadblocks and setbacks
Too many dregs that won’t go down
The pipes in downtown
Now you are dead
And I am utterly sad.
Copyright © May 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
SCROLL OF LIFE
Although the light long ago faded from my youth
Clarity of my memories tell one; go home,
If only to find the innocence and the truth
From whence I travelled this world, like a gypsy roam.
When the scroll misconstrued paths collide in the night
Unprepared for the dawning the golden sunrise,
Horizon awakened one of emerald bright
Freeways of poetry and words woven without guise.
The misunderstanding of the unrolling scroll
Gave one measure to digest the loss; the delay,
In sands of time ribald an everlasting toll
The scroll we have a new understanding this day.
The gypsy has finally found himself a home
Through emerald eyes seeing his sunrise; not alone.
© Harry J Horsman & Mandy M Tams 2014
I wanna spend Thanksgiving in a UFO
Thankin' the Cosmos for starlight's glow!
With veggies and fruits on my plate,
It's a Cosmic voyage that sure feels great!
Flying high, my saucer in the sky,
Mushrooms, squash, and peas roll by.
Thankfulness guides my heart, my art, my song.
At my Thanksgiving table, love belongs.
I want to paint like DeChirico in a dreamy haze,
While Roman columns fill my nighttime gaze.
Jupiter, Venus, and Odin are flying near.
My table is in Asgard with good mead and cheer.
Flying high, my space Saucer in the sky
Bluebirds and Cardinals are singin' nearby.
Planetary voices join in tune
As I sail beneath the Carribean moon.
I'm a Cowgirl, a pilgrim, a wanderin' woman.
The American spirit makes me feel free
With mashed potatoes and Seitan Stew,
Thanksgiving grits, yellow squash, and linguistic brew.
I'm flyin' high, my saucer in the sky.
Blessed be all, with peace to guide
Thanksgiving, the best Cosmic Holiday
Intergalactic with forever racing freeways!
The call to the East,
a low deep murmur,
a tune of sombre dulcet tones plays out - non-invasive,
A surreal hum through the air
as the crescent moon hangs low
A spiritual beacon for the faithful,
Prayers, as the day begins,
a blessing for all - unknown.
The gentle breeze plays its part,
a welcoming coolness before the heat arrives.
It's warm, a prelude to the dry heat to come
Not stifling, just hot
that sits still around you
bringing the moisture to your skin lightly
to change the colours of winters flesh to honey.
As my companions sleep,
the sun begins to wake,
the hubbub of commuters begins to escalate and grow
drowning out the 5am serenity - shades of pink a glow.
The space is alive, traffic moving,
breeze is cool, yet the air is warm and comfortable,
pollution rises where I sit watching the commuters.
Airport hotels, freeways, no hint of spice or salt from the sea,
just a metropolis as I wait for my friends to wake.
The view of walkways and lights,
an Emirates tail fin slowly moves between.
From this perspective it seems surreal,
lacking the space and depth to land a plane,
yet there it is, taxiing its way through the glass jungle of illuminated buildings.
Lighting a cigarette - no concept of time
as I luxuriate with both coffee and tea,
on the front balcony area of the waiting space -
an external cafe style seating - alone.
Security wanders through,
an occasional traveller for the shuttle bus
heading to some unknown destination waits,
and with the hum of cars there is a peace,
a silence and stillness - unhurried morning serenity.
It is time to move, to pack, to travel for the savannah,
as Nairobi awaits our next adventure.
We left Sunday,
I have slept thrice but only one day has passed.
It is Monday
"The streams are my veins."
Rivers, rather than flowing around us, deliver vitality to every cell and fiber in the body. They are the life-giving arteries and veins of the earth. By Poet
Sarcastic, keen vision makes me shiver,
Some light gills merge to shape a grand river.
My shattered lungs could burst the concrete chains,
Each song stirs the vent veins of the liver.
All gentlest sounds conspire to clear my veins,
Your love flows like the Nile through Egypt's plains.
But can I ignore your love in my face?
Don't miss wetting the dense stems with your mains.
Wasting flowers could divest her of grace,
My soul was relieved by the tune's embrace.
Allow viewing realms from the onset.
She fascinates every time with the lace.
No applied falseness but switches my mindset,
I am just leery about this concept.
Dull words of fear, half peace, and half sorrow,
A halt would be marked; I lack an outset.
They say you were all over the bellow,
Croon in a shrewd tone, and you will follow.
Once you head me going, I'm harsh to sway,
I've seen creeks full of life rushing 'morrow.
A calm stream bears lithe life into the clay,
Reap peace and calm, at sea, don't jump astray.
All the sounds are causing my veins to stream,
No mountains or freeways prompt me to stray.
My veins run through my mind like magic-dream,
It's glum, but I note them in my bloodstream.
Your love spares me from being powerless,
When you wake up, it won't stop meaning realms.
Written: August 2nd, 2022
Let Your Muse Be Inspired - R Form Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
1ST Place Contest Winner
Used: HMS.COM// 10 syllables per line
Rhyme: AAbA-BBcB-CCdC...