Long Honked Poems
Long Honked Poems. Below are the most popular long Honked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Honked poems by poem length and keyword.
Woke up this morning with the brightest idea
That I took with me to a busy street corner today
I didn't carry a sign to waste any time
I just stood there all day and I waved
I waved to the cars, trucks, and busses
I even waved to a homeless man pushing a cart
I waved so much through out the day
My wave it became expression art
Many passersby honked their approval
While some with a finger said I was #1
I waved and I waved till late in the day
And yet felt I still wasn't done
I had waved to all the daily commuters
But what about those that only come out at night
Just because they sleep late doesn't mean they should miss a good wave
If you think about it that wouldn't be right
So I stood there under the glow of the street lights
Giving the night owls a taste of my wave
Letting them know they're just as special
As those that hang out in the day
When my last wave said goodbye it was over
I packed up my hand in my pocket in style
I believe I'll come back to the corner tomorrow
But this time I'll just stand there and smile
Witchy Patty’s bulbous nose smelled smoked toad and horse livers.
Anticipating their sweet taste gave her the salivating quivers.
If they had bat’s tongue and owl’s beak she knew she’d get the shivers.
This insanely tasty fragrance was wafting up the entire length of Six Rivers.
As she flew her broom over the woods she got a quick peep
Of her craziest most unrelated cousins riding red and brown sheep.
She got so excited she gave a giant whoop and a giant airborne leap,
Falling off her broomstick, and landing next to them in a crumpled heap.
Her cousins raced toward her cackling; it was hilarious at first.
One of them honked her by her nose; another stole her pink clasped purse.
Little LuLu Witch was the first to finally begin hollering for an ER nurse.
They had actually filed Witchy Patty’s death. Frankly, there is nothing worse.
The quiet words, the trembling lips,
we’ve heard it all before.
Keen questions dwell within our minds,
like who’s behind the door.
We saw the lights, heard voiceless words,
asked, “Is there any more?”
The speaking’s frail and actions flail,
but who’s behind the door?
The Wizard drew his curtain and
he fooled the land of Oz.
But when the curtain opened up
they saw just who he was.
He turned the wheel, he honked the horn
he put on such a show
The room was filled with smoky light
and braggadocio
As cultures clash and leaders stall,
great fearfulness prevails.
When people feel they’ve been left out,
then lo, their system fails.
All people want to feel secure.
They want their qualms allayed.
As leaders walk on shells of eggs,
the folks feel sore afraid.
We feel compelled; we have to know,
real answers, we implore.
Please tell the truth and let us know,
Who’s that behind the door?
His clothes were tattered, in vivid shades of red blue & yellow
he wore leatherette shoes blackly polished and gleaming with shine
Red fiery hair that summoned like a fire hydrant and a big fat rubber nose that honked when it was squeezed.
He had a polka dotted hanky that protruded from his well padded suit,
and a kangaroo pocket in which he kept all his most precious belongings.
Aside from the fact that those big blue eyes of his were undeniably sad,
every part of his retinue screamed, "I am funny, I can make you laugh"
People came to the circus to watch his goofy antics and
to forget their worries for a little while. One day while he was blowing up balloons for the children, he died of a massive heart attack.
In heaven the angels took Tatters to the children's room. Sitting on a big shiny
red stool he was asked to make balloons for every child in God's creative nest.
His eyes were never sad again for he knew that here,
he could make a child smile and never grow old, or ever be sad again.
The End.
The Drive-Thru Oracle
Kevin Davis, 2024
At sixteen, I turned into the glow
of a fast-food drive-thru—
stomach echoing, thoughts unfastened.
The menu board flickered,
numbers rearranging themselves,
prices breathing in and out.
I rolled to the speaker.
It watched me.
Static. Then:
“What do you want?”
“Uh… a chicken sandwich and fries.”
The night held its breath.
Grease-sweet air pressed through the window.
Then the speaker again, slower now,
as if tasting each word:
“What do you really want?”
I glanced up.
The pictures had changed—
burgers replaced by ladders,
a compass,
a pair of open hands.
“A… chicken sandwich?”
“No.”
The word vibrated in the metal pole.
“What do you want to do with your life?”
My hands tightened on the wheel.
It felt warm. Almost alive.
“When I was little, I wanted to be a fireman.
Maybe a cop. Now…”
The parking lot stretched longer than it should have.
“I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m sixteen,” I said.
My voice sounded borrowed.
“I haven’t lived enough.”
The speaker crackled
like something burning far away.
“That is not an answer.
What will you be?”
The answers fell out of me like coins:
“A soldier. A psychologist.
A husband. A father.
A minister. A friend.”
“Good.”
The word rang
like a bell dropped down a well.
“How will you arrive there?”
“I… don’t know.”
“Then that is your work,” it said.
“To not know.
To move.
To fail.
To gather days.
Do not begin
before you have begun.”
Above the speaker, the clown leaned closer,
its paint cracked into maps.
I smelled smoke.
Or salt.
Or time.
I opened my mouth—
—and the world snapped.
“Hi there! Can I take your order?”
Fluorescent light.
Asphalt.
A plastic clown, sun-bleached and grinning.
The menu: burgers, fries, shakes.
Nothing else.
I sat very still.
“I’m not ready to decide right now,” I said.
No one answered.
I drove forward when the car behind me honked—
past the empty pickup window,
past the blank-faced clown,
back into a night
that felt slightly unfinished.
My stomach was empty.
My life, suddenly, was not.
Fiona and her pup Scar decided to go on an adventure
They hit the Pacific Highway at four in the morning on Tuesday
There is nothing like the open road! Fiona sang to Scar.
Scar was happy, there were doggie treats in his sidecar.
Many people honked and waved as they journeyed.
They ran out of ocean soon enough, but saw other things.
Dusty dirty tumbleweeds blew into them in Wyoming.
No worries, Fiona told Scar. Things will get better.
Scar was not worried. He had a new t-bone now.
Thanks to the generosity of the cook at the truck stop.
“We are on the road to somewhere!” Fiona sang.
They were steering through Nebraska now.
It was the tornado season, so they might have to lie in a ditch.
Scar did not care. He has his bone, and he had his memories.
He loved traveling “the road to somewhere”.
It was his favorite thing to do in the summer time.
No one knew what kind of car she was because she was an antique.
She had a mind of her own, a colorful one at that, and she ran.
She lived in a small Alaskan town, so people knew about her.
That’s Claire, an old timer told me when he saw me taking her photo.
She has a name? Sure, he replied, “They all have names, don’t they?”
All cars have names?
No. All spirits have names.
You mean she is a spirit and a car?
We never think of Claire as a car, but we always think of her as a spirit.
When I left the state, she followed me to the edge and then honked goodbye.
No one believed me, because she had no driver.
But I have never forgotten Claire.
Walt and Melvin,
Were two little boys
Who were both bored
With their ordinary toys
Walt looked up to the table,
And said to Mel
"Do you think we will be able,
To make a new toy with that?"
"What's that?" said Mel,
Putting on his dunces' hat.
Mum's watermelon she bought us to eat
An enormous watermelon,
Mum thought it would be a treat
Do you think we are able?
To lift it off the table.
And lift it off they did
They scooped out the middle
And cut off the lid
It amazed both the children
What secrets this fruit hid.
When they had finished
This giant fruit said,
Get in, boys,
Although it was time to go to bed
As they got in, the Melon made a toot,
And up into the sky, this vehicle did shoot.
You may be thinking that the boys
Might be afraid.
They were delighted with
The magic toy they made.
The watermelon was magic,
That was for sure.
It conversed with the twinkling stars,
And the creatures on the
Shore.
They poked their tongues out at the moon,
As they went rushing by,
Honked at a fat pig,
Who said that pigs could not fly?
They saw a meteor falling from the sky.
They all laughed and shouted out.
Thanks for dropping by.
They saw pink elephants,
And other animals too,
All different colours,
To animals seen in the Zoo.
The watermelon was,
The greatest of fun,
Sadly he told the boys,
They had to return to Mum,
The giant fruit turned around,
And with the loudest Boom
The two little boys were sitting,
Crossed leg in the dining room.
Both looking at the table,
Where the watermelon had sat,
Sadly it had landed on the floor,
With a resounding SPLAT!
I stand alone in a black and white city
As the smog blends with the picture
I imagine colorful, plentiful sustenance
And look upon filth…
And when the speeding cars honked those relentless horns
I awoke, in a flourishing dream
My eyes opened
It was bright and dazzling
There was joyous birdsong
Yet there, on the rooftops
Who crafted these birds?
Do you laugh at the bard
Who wakes up hopeful in dreams?
Out of my dreams, I live of misery for life’s sake
Of a lost, unattainable love
Of eager waiting and longing
Of sadness and waste
And when the speeding cars honked those relentless horns
My mind and heart awoke
Now I stand here with him
And ponder on our once blissful love
I widen my eyes to stay in the dream
And my heart beats tenderly
When will the birds flutter into my city on earth?
When shall I kiss your lips again?
I would never make a fuss
The way you crashed just like a bus
Into my life and ran me over
You were like a four leaf clover
Hard to find and so unique
Wheels of love rolled in to seek
My heart for a special journey
There was no way you could curb me
And stop me from entering
Through open door so I can win
The greatest trip I'll ever find
Now I don't feel left behind
You honked your horn for me to hear
The sound of someone who would care
Driving me down streets of love
Handling me with kid gloves
Because I have been run down
And then dragged all over town
Left with lots of tire tracks
Of cheating behind my back
And skid marks that leave me bruised
Now weary I look for clues
To see if a love will be
The real true thing for me
And you passed each secret test
You are certainly the best
Ride that's ever come along
Of a love so deeply strong