Long Roadster Poems
Long Roadster Poems. Below are the most popular long Roadster by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Roadster poems by poem length and keyword.
brings world word ii gunnery duty
as extremely frightful flashback
which utterly displeases this elderly mortal
and such behavior moi aback!
Born in this same house
on Leona avenue, this oldster doth dwell
which neighborhood once felt like heaven,
but now seems like hell
pet peeves arise with ever more frequency
from increased unpleasant encroachments
along this very narrow street
some young hoodlum
left trash scattered on property
that blew everywhere pell mell
but also parks a slew of cars up and down
both sides of this narrow thoroughfare
blithely co-opting an unused driveway
by an elderly lady who lives alone
oh, or a male friend of his
who guns the engine of a rosey roadster
at the crack of dawn
and when confronted blurted out
“i gotta do what i gotta do”
these complaints, i feel a need
(albeit anonymously)
this doddering soldier
of misfortune doth wish to tell
hoping the police can crack down
e’en if they need (billy me) to be idle
voicing rebellious yell!
address and name withheld on request
on account to avoid getting
preyed upon via ruffian's quest
so…please do not misperceive me a pest
but feel grateful (before
being dead) to clear me chest
only a concerned citizen kane at best
and a harmless curmudgeon i attest!
I will not go away completely
When it’s my time and curtain call
Continue, ever-so-discreetly
Like someone’s writing on the wall
I get to linger in emails
And links I sent, with silly jokes
All those stories, chats and tales
Addressed to friends and strange folks
Like passenger who leaves the roadster
My band plays on, yet I am gone
My face, not worthy of a poster
Shows up in photos I have spawned
In little gifts I passed around
In words I said and verse deployed
Imprints on sand and stony grounds
I’ll hop along, defying void
With deeds to be recalled at random
Bygone handshakes and warm embrace
I wrote my own memorandum
On how to quit but leave a trace
July 19, 2024
I wonder, Little Eddie, hypnotized,
can it be true you felt no pain at all?
Ten years of age, a figure formed too small,
and that poor Roadster, a gift you so prized…
How could your brother have so despised
your car? to pop its tires,—and on the wall—
smash it, scratch it, do everything to maul
that toy.—Is it true, you weren’t agonized?
Though Harry promised hypnotism,?he quickly realized, putting you in trances,
that he could trash you—as he had your car.
and soon, he stuck mom’s hat pin way too far.—
To cover up his tracks, he took his chances—
his lie: epileptic paroxysm.
(to Peter Straub)
HEADING FOR VENEZIA
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Young Syd, a squirrel with adventurous spirit most keen,
Bought 1925 roadster, a vintage touring machine.
With top down, tail flapping in the breeze,
The goddess of freedom he was sure to appease.
Popular was he, once featured in ‘Roadster Fanzine.’
Oh how Syd loved the roadster’s crushed velvet seats
Sinking in them as he raced down the city streets.
Waves to all the she-squirrels, feeling outta sight
Spends his dough dancing with them on Saturday nights.
Low on cash, Syd uses his roadster delivering food for UberEATS
That’s when he meets the she-squirrel named Aretha,
a singing diva who always orders lots of pepperoni pizza.
*Oh these city streets move way too slow, don’t you know.
Let’s go riding on the freeway! Drop the pedal, Syd. Go, go, go!
So they cruise onto better-than-ever street heading straight for Venezia.
7/20/19
"I'll be your Joker"
Still a registered voter
Signed up to be an organ donor
And finally became a car owner
I rarely use a controller
When it's time, I'll man up and buy a stroller
As well as panels that are solar
Near and far from areas that are polar
Doesn't matter if I ever get a Range Rover
Or Roadster
I'm barely ever sober
Always been a loner
And stoner
3 months away from another October
If you want to be my Harley Quinn, I'll be your "Joker"
Not no poser
Where are you Scully? This is agent Mulder
Anytime you want, I'll be your shoulder
To lean on
From here to way beyond
For eons
Where's my Marge? I am Homer
I'll be your rock over and over
Since I've gotten nobler
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder
I've seen it so much, I could compile a folder
Life's one giant rollercoaster
It's really revving my motor
All these women giving me a b***r
And then the cold shoulder
As if I am an ogre
I remain a soldier
Drinking high end coffee, no more Folgers
Getting wiser and older
Becoming bolder
As the world gets colder
I'm not feeling dolor
Just multi tasking, while a fire continues to smoulder
Maintaining my composure
Finding closure
Getting closer
To greatness instead of being mediocre
I enjoyed the work I did with several growers
As well as trapping some gophers
Occasionally I'll partake in poker
Even though I'm not the best hoaxer
Once or twice I used a fire stoker
When it came to Mary Jane, I was a doter
A fan of it's fragrance, it's not what I'd call an odor
I consume some products made by Clover
And am usually in places considered remoter
It's time I get a toaster and holster
I don't really need a Flame Thrower
Or to get my face on a most wanted poster
Suit yourself if you want to wear a boater
Or choker
Houses in continual foreclosure
Not always wise to go for the price that is lower
Someday my mind and body will be slower
And one day it'll all be over
10-4 over and out
And now you know, what i'm really about
Not just by word of mouth
As they say don't look a gift horse in the mouth
Regardless of if you had your doubts
By: Dalton Ogletree
B C 25 ooo FLATFOOT ROADSTER 700 Sold by Solid ROCK MOTORS
Took 77 years to get this technology;
A brillant automotive prodigy;
Floored imparted, technical passages;
Thrown in free extra peticures and foot massages;
Two foot-ten toed manned-powered...
Hard callis bunion brakes stops ya;
Hundered year waranty;
Across roads shoes not needed guarantee;
On the streets goes from “0” to “30”;
Don't look up, close your mouth, watch out for the birdies;
Easy on gas! Just flatulence if when coasting down hills gets dirty;
Priced just right! 4 holes in the floor;
Framed animal skins for doors;
To stop, N break putting on breaks place your feet so;
Drag you must;
Stop you shall, running in place have you'll go;
Racing, leaving others around you in dust;
1,000,000 BC Fred owned original still no rust;
The very first Fred Flintstone's auto a 25,ooo B C FLATFOOT ROADSTER 700
Sold by Solid ROCK MOTORS car runs like poetry in motion;
YABA DADBA DO!!!
FOR CONTEST: Poetry In Motion
SPONCERED BY:
3/1/18,
2018©
I hear professors prattling,
I hear the reporters berate,
I see tech fascists side with China,
claim all who oppose them are ‘hate.’
I see young people lost and mad,
attacking people in the streets,
minds poisoned by the folks above,
Told to go find ‘nazis’ to beat.
I see a major party that
now embraces socialism,
claiming our past is all evil,
that all must see through their prism.
But given all socialism killed
they deserve only our anger,
you should be proud of America,
no nation has done it better.
No nation was built on ideas
instead of brute conquest or tribe,
we took the best mankind thought up,
then wrote it into law with pride.
Though it took trial and error
to see freedom was applied right,
we shed our blood to push it on,
we started and finished this fight.
The standard set for other states,
the impulse for their own reforms,
were it not for our founders words
freedom wouldn’t have become a norm.
Most still have not reached out level,
we remain freedom’s trend-setter,
you should be proud of America,
no nation has done it better.
How many nations were willing
to let their citizens compete?
To set free the productive urge,
and let loose true creative feats?
How many technologies
that have improved the human state
came from free people striving to
make money and do something great?
We let people chose for themselves
and the results speak loud and clear,
we flew a plane, launched a roadster,
and made bounteous food appear.
How many genres did we make;
books, film, and music, we’re go-getters,
You should be proud of America,
No nation has done it better.
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Paul Le Mat, the guy
Who drove the yellow roadster
in American
Grafitti starred in the show,
Aloha Bobby & Rose,
With friend Manuel
Padilla Jr. who played
The little kid in
The Tarzan series of the
Mid-sixties as Jai, Scarface,
Also, Grafitti,
Wanted to cash their weekly
Studio paychecks,
But they knew of the hotel
'DO NOT CASH' memo, but they had
Known of this sucker,
Behind the desk chiefly named,
Tom, so I did cash
it and made two new friends for
the longest two minutes, e'er.
***Manuel, who was two years older than me, has since passed but Paul, who was in his early thirties at the time, is still kicking at 73 years of age.
Date 08/28/2019
HOWMANYSYLLABLES.COM
57577, 57577, 57577, 57577
Intends to be the best,
acts like owner of the world,
fights for the USA
loves the history of American music
is entitled to be a roadster
passionate with nature
carry out cucarachas with reservation
vibrates with sports
intrudes on foreign affairs
polemics racial issues
celebrates 4th of july with pride
has fun with regional accents
carves pumpkins like no one
tends to be a bit arrogant
rejoices with fireworks
should assist poorer countries further
praises and appreciates peanut butter
frolic in football badly
plays basketball admirably
knows that everyone wants
to come to America ... !
Ps for the sake of poetry, i must say that
I LOVE AMERICA !
My daddy, he gave me a silver dime
For to fetch him a bucket of cider.
My mama, she tended the laundry line,
With a big wicker basket beside her.
I took a hard left at the barber pole
And I walked past a drunk by the deli.
He was likely reliving his throw-away years
In some dark nightmare’s underbelly.
The Ferris wheel is frozen in place
By the exotic dancer’s cherry tree.
The sideshows provided the usual freaks,
Teasing gut brain and muscle memory.
An ascot wearing yacht rock commodore
Come ashore for his usual wage:
A pickpocket imperialist strutting the boards
On his chosen colonial stage.
He came from some tiny Alpine principate
After stealing a movie star’s roadster.
Just know for a fact that it weren’t Lichtenstein,
It was really Lichtenstein’s monster.
He has black labs, brewskis, and bluebirds
Neatly baked into his trendy man bun.
For when a little dab ‘ll do ya, as they say,
Who needs all that greasy kid stuff?
He’s just another two-bit clown
We see his pants fall halfway down.
There’s no understanding really what he did.
He claims he played marbles with the Sundance Kid
And the barkers lined the midway
From the high bridge to the gateway,
As I marveled at the wonders I saw
In this place they call Carnival Town.
THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR
A SUCKER BORN EVERY MINUTE