Long Grand prix Poems
Long Grand prix Poems. Below are the most popular long Grand prix by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grand prix poems by poem length and keyword.
Well there’s Hooverville
on the edge of the river
haint nuttin boot flimsy cardboard
e’en with clothes will shiver
waiting for tension to be released
like a arrow in a taut quiver
major organs ready to burst open
cuz day r all a failin'
unless salvation does da liver
from a stingy farmer
nada one of him a giver
Hence a goin to Cali for n’ya
in battered up truck n wailin' wah wah
ta feed da chill n beasts o burr den –
‘cept un shaw
if me pa
will ever appear on Oprah
whar guest’s literary car –
rears into grand prix hoopla
An win free dim lifts us lock a hawk,
this kid rock will nah
dat he suffered faw a distant few cha
migrants we may be – butta we bah
dog on judas priest, Christ and allah
Rose of Sharon wool extend
da family tree
dat ma will live to see
re:
charging the Joad jalopy
in part from me
tink rin hands dat like ta mess
with oil hand stains
one mo scar – craning neck 2 earn
An huh tha red badge of courage
upon this Okie
hunched o’er with stiff back
while wounded knee
continually bunged up with utter glee
at engine cough fin smoke
to git us free
whar we kin sally in da pacific fields yipeee.
-The King's Dead-
Suddenly, I see. Chicken pox, is full of bandwagons.
Not the biggest reach for a climb to mount Everest.
It’s a bold statement with eternal boundaries.
Headshot, then I freaked it.
Mess my life up fam.
Don’t appreciate the sound of silence when the wind pipes down.
Working on a clustertruck. Throbs meltin.
Throw that pillow down, suffocate mainstream media.
Wreak havoc on Teddy’s carpet.
Shoo Mr. Voices. Raincheck. Payment up front or no clear conscious.
Jokes on you. I don’t know which ones mine.
Slide on in. He’ll be with you shortly.
Intercom’s static, interference from demons on the widescreen.
We want you home. Nadda.
Cross circuit grand prix, slow marathon.
Horses carrying on their long-faced façade.
They can’t avoid their carrot on the stick. Nor can We.
You looked but didn’t three. Line up the BBQ. It’s going to get steamy.
Young and single, just got a job in a neighbour town,
Thought I’d buy a flashy car so I could get around,
My boyfriend at the time said that I should get a Camaro,
It was new, orange and shiny, how could I be so narrow.
I crowned her Bess and drove her home with pride,
All my friends called, they wanted to go out for a ride.
Summer was so much fun, what a splash I was making.
Then gone, both summer and the boyfriend I was dating.
Winter rolled in with tons of snow and patches of ice,
Getting to work in my Camaro, was like rolling the dice.
Ol’ Bess would skid to the left and swerve to the right,
Wow, I held on to the steering wheel with all my might.
So I resigned that Bess was not good in cold weather,
Even with snow tires, she blew around like a feather.
Then suddenly a new quirk started as I turned on the key,
She spluttered, oh great, guess I won’t make the grand prix.
Bess would start well at times then for no good reason,
She’d stammer, then stop, reek of gas - in any season.
Bess and I visited many auto repair shops by way of a tow,
The carburetor was like a fountain, out of it the gas would flow.
Apparently a carburetor is needed to make Bess purr,
So I had it rebuilt, then replaced, oh the bills, what a blur,
Then a starter motor and strut, remember Bess is brand new,
After three years of aggravation, I traded her in, I was through!
Guess a cool single girl may look good in a splashy sports car,
But if your car doesn’t start or run, you won’t get too far.
So I put on my sunglasses, look cool but feel like a real wart,
As I drive to work in sleet and snow in my old Ford Escort.
Written for Contest “Driving Me Crazy”
Won 6th Place
My neighbour, Mellifluous Myrtle
Her urine she’d stir with a spurtle
She’d give me a wink
Then down it as drink
She’s loopier than the mock turtle!
One Sunday we’d watched the Grand Prix
She proffered a flask of her pee
I said, “Sorry dear
It’s cloudy not clear -
I much prefer my English tea!”
Her pubic hair she'd tried to perm
The lotion gave a nasty burn
I phoned up Bill, her son
And said ,"Please visit mum,
Her conduct is cause for concern."
I recently heard some great news
That Myrtle’s son won a year cruise
I must hope and then pray
When they leave on Friday
Her bev’rages ain’t from the loos!
Kare Adenegan
I love the city of Coventry ‘cos it’s disability friendly,
Since it houses Great Britain’s national disabled college,
As Hereward resides there with insight, policies bendy,
Towards its students who mainstream don’t admonish.
Kare who was only 15 at Rio comes from Coventry,
She schools at Bablake and has Cerebral Palsy true,
And, being excluded from the school sports gentry,
After the London Paras decided that sports she’d do.
So she joined one of the many wheelchair academies,
Which vibrate in Coventry and soon attended meets,
Where she could compete with national dungarees,
As a T34 sprinter to cheer the crowds off their seats.
Grand Prix final in London 2015, and she pushed hard,
Revolved those rubber tyres faster than ever she could,
And, unbelievably, she beat flat Hannah Crockroft bard,
To become the first in seven years to lower that hood.
Then in Doha 2015 IPC Worlds she steamed victorious,
When she won bronze in both the 400 and in the 800m,
And then in Rio 2016 she won one silver medal glorious,
Also two bronze, stealing the sprints for the UK by gaiters.
Indeed, both Hurricane Hannah and Kare Adenegan,
Come from Coventry because Hannah’s moved there
To study media at Coventry University. Respect began,
In the war recovery effort: for the disabled they’d care.
Jonathan was a self-employed plumber,
Before a diagnosis of corneal dystrophy,
So he moved out as a plumbing worker,
And began playing judo professionally.
He’d done judo as a youth, came easy,
And won his 1st dan at the age of 18,
So took his first senior competition flee,
In the 2010 Welsh Open, he was mean.
Jono also suffers from ADHD, tells others,
And in 2013 took the gold in the US Open,
In the 2014 Grand Prix, bronze feathers,
And at the 2014 Worlds took bronze token.
In 2015 at the Eger World Cup, Hungary,
Jono tangled and fought to take the bronze,
And in Rio he came fifth in -81kg category,
Against fighter Rovshan Safarov, no cons.
Oh, mighty bee, hear my heartfelt plea…
Big request by the darling chimpanzee
He wants you to assist the Illinois Grand Prix
Ride in race car with him and his chickadee
They agree they will pay the contest fee
Trying to procure the loving cup key
This invitation to tea is given to you with glee
Lee might show up if he is not on a crime spree
The chimpanzee has not yet invited me
But I’ve heard good things about his Irish tea
I can personally vouch for the blue chickadee
They will serve tea at the top of old oak tree
Please meet them there at twelve until three
This plea is a big deal, not a bit wee.
Tea will be served in tree’s giant Vee.
How much more welcome could you be?
The Muse
If I show her
the least attention
She blackens out
the prose
Her hold on me
so total
Forever
in the throes
Of what her
gift requires
And loyalty
demands
Where every night
she visits
My dreams
— at her command
***
Moments I Treasure
Embracing simplicity
days get short
Words cut deeper
vague meanings defined
Minutes leaving
moments to treasure
Twilight in focus
— forever unwinds
***
Uncertainty Cries
Time
the great impostor
Hides
in every doubt and scheme
Whispering lies
when uncertainty cries
Poisoning hope
— invading our dreams
***
Less Is More
Would you trade
your steak for salad
returning as before
Before the fame
betrayed you
before the moneyed tour
How spartan could you pivot
free
of fortune’s weight
That riches cast upon you
and left you
in this state
How much praise and false attention
would you happily
give up
To shed the gilded moments
and fill
each empty cup
But maybe all the better
to clasp your hands
in prayer
Beseeching what is missing
from The One
— who’s always there
***
Excuses Befriend
A thousand ways
to lose
only one way
to win
The track
lined with losers
excuses
befriend
What could have
then happened
what should
have come true
Lost forever
to history
defeat
— in review
(Montreal Grand Prix: May, 2026)
Anti-Poem – “At Pinks With Little Susie”
maybe if we hold hands the dizziness will go away
little susie be driving a ‘62 gray pontiac grand prix
she say driving is easy once you get the hang of it
tan nyloned legs caress the gas pedal with mettle
flying fast now she stops at melrose and van ness
susie say she feels sick and thinks it’s the roadkill
i just hit something bad she say it ain’t alive now
maybe if we play parcheesi all day it will go away
my problems be like sticky ants she say they stay
susie parks the pontiac in a shaded lot on la brea
she says she wants a pinks hot dog and a yoohoo
cool guys with duck tails and taps hang out there
their scarf-wearing chicks smoke filter cigarettes
susie thinks life is a vicious monster with no eyes
it just attacks and kills everyday and everywhere
susie say her hot dog tastes good tastes like love
will you marry me susie i says suddenly laughing
maybe if we marry all the bad things will go away
little susie be driving home now holding my hand
My inspiration comes from my shattered heart
Of all my emotions strung apart
Distance valleys and shining falls
Back me up against mirrored walls
Shattered mirrors fall apart from the walls
Muffled noises and drowned~out calls
Life around my sweet fingertips
So many fake kisses against these lips
Walking alone on a vast beach
Shooting for a goal I haven't quite reached
Sinister sounds exit my four-walled past
As my life drowns my energy so fast
Midnight strikes as waves crash the rocks
Desperately trying to break my internal blocks
Barriers stop the social part of my life
Somehow uncomfortable and it doesn't feel right
Breathing in the salty mist from the sea
I'm racing through a race car Grand Prix
Going so fast and flashing visions I see
Climbing through my soul like an alone maple tree
Wondering and watching my life past me by
Constantly falling no matter how hard I try
Finding fear every corner I turn
Feeling my insides slowly burn
Sand squishing through my feet
Walking alone ~ never a treat
By myself marked and branded again
Branded for living my life in sin
Sinister voices can still be heard
Listening to invisible voices ~ feeling absurd
Watching a storm cloud jade the moon
Loneliness this year is obviously in bloom...