Long Traffic Poems
Long Traffic Poems. Below are the most popular long Traffic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Traffic poems by poem length and keyword.
Agency, apt was the day that they came.
Eyes of red flame; a waxpaper gabbaim.
Maintenance workers, how did the place run?
O subterranean lair, set to stun.
Gadfly, gawk well at the faces in crowds.
Blank like new life beneath burial shrouds.
Waiting for traffic to let out a yell?
Rating, chessmaster, is halfway to hell.
Sacrificed pawn, did the carrion crow fly?
Round the volcano thrice, winking awry?
Train station, travelers, widows in white.
Brace, belladonna, and grant visions bright.
Simian intellect, silver flame flecked?
Genuflect, priest, as a sign of respect?
Burning in heads of the mad, lily pad?
O humanity, as cogs you were had...
Yellow king, there in thy city, what lives?
Prisoners with shivs and undoubted missives.
Golem, shall we spend the night here? Let's not.
Jotoba staff in thy hand, thought-robot?
Lycanthrope, hope. At the end of a scope?
Henbane, to cope, steep three days and don't mope.
Flowers in fields blowing brisk in the breeze.
Terror, send a flare? At ease, trees. Trapeze...
O black abyss, do leviathans kiss?
Serpents, when you hiss, spit venom to miss?
Raccoon, thy claw in the mud of the creek.
Why were you digging? Quay, quahog, tale, teak.
Plight of palladium? Poor politesse?
Languid like legendary loves? Lined less.
Tyrant of the wasteland, turmoil. Turn tail?
Vampire, thy fangs. Angel, bottles of ale...
Worship not your turtles on Tuesday
Driving a convertible in traffic is inadvisable
Places you at risk, in peril of bird droppings
Never yawn with mouth open and head up
Yawning is sacrilegious with seat belts off
If you have daughters, don't!
They are not turtles and this is not Vegas
If you have sons, feed them peanuts
They will not become elephants all of a sudden
But they are cheaper than you think
And much cheaper than pink
If you play cards on Thursday be warned
Turtles don't drink or smoke or gamble
Too many decks makes them sleepy
Don't worry about convertibles
Turtles drive trucks but not well
Never on Doomsday or Wednesday
That would be asking too much
They have trouble with the clutch
Doomsdays come around once in a lifetime
Never on Wednesday because that is canasta night
Beer and pretzels are free
(Bring your own pretzels and beer)
Leave your turtles at home
Worship them not on Tuesday
Canasta should never be trifled with
Bring two decks for security
Concourse "C"
Part three
Directions printed from Map Quest
meant only for one way
confused three tired travelers
driving to Delaware late one day
Leaving Kennedy
heading towards ninety five
they pass the on-ramp quickly
High,
they never saw the sign.
The wrong direction they head for miles
in this city of high steel and concrete.
Time passed, traffic slowed
weather turned from rain to sleet
Through the city they drive in circles
passing buildings already seen
hitting every red light for miles
given no chance for speed
Over bridges & underground tunnels,
like rats scrambling through a maze
they're lost somewhere in Brooklyn
and have been half the day.
Jared Pickett
1/22/06
Asavvy1
Daylight fades, a city pulsates, and traffic is reflected in store windows.
Hurrying headlights come out of the darkness.
They crisscross like dueling knights. People in the crosswalk scamper
as if squirrels and streetlights leer gleaming yellow eyes, like watchful hawks.
The shrill trumpets of the charging gale force winds, rattle an awning,
and newly planted maple saplings bend and sway
in random pairs. Set in concrete planters, they hang on by tender rooted toes.
Pages of a discarded newspaper are hurled into the air,
buoyed on the steely breath of a frigid winter evening.
Several leaflets scatter into the street and down the sidewalk,
into the path of one lone pedestrian.
He slaps away the sports page, that flies into his chapped, red face.
Without hesitation, this castaway vagrant, down and out
by the rape of hard times, will accept an offered dime,
from a passing man in a Red Sox ball cap.
Head bent low, face hidden, a worn and dirty pea coat
pulled tightly around his thin frame, he carries all his meager belongings
in a large paper grocery bag, wrinkled and beginning to tear.
Serving as his satchel, the brown bag, damp and worn,
still displays big bold red and black letters
advertising "Smart and Final Grocery"--"Located in Three Convenient Locations".
A city bus roars by, splashing through three days of rain,
and a siren and a blaring horn is heard from the next block.
The dark silhouetted outcast, stops for a moment,
peers into a sidewalk trash receptacle, then continues slowly down the sidewalk.
A taxi pulls up along the curb behind him, and the attractive couple,
dressed in evening wear, emerge, pay for their taxi, and arm in arm,
enter Mario's Italian Restaurant, the brick bistro
that sits on the corner of Broadway and 1st.
It begins to rain again, and across the street people open umbrellas
and like the afore mentioned squirrels, they scurry home to supper.
The lone man walks in the rain, his pace doesn't quicken, his voice never spoken,
a spirit broken, ............ his sack held together by circumstance.
A passerby takes a brief glance...just a quick, chanced moment,
to take notice of "Smart and Final's" last stance.
ARE YOU A MISFIT?
Per chance, in this universe, you are one?
That feeling, somehow you were born in the wrong century. You might look at common
dress.
You see it as dull, sloppy and freaky.
And you want clothes gallant, elegant and
even a tad cheeky!
Or the sense that you are a lone driver, facing
four lanes of oncoming traffic!
You ponder, what have I done wrong and down comes the pain and unbearable panic.
You get invited to an elegant soirée?
There you are, chandeliers and escargot galore.
However, you are pitifully ignored,feeling like a worn out mat, lying dead at an abandoned cottage door.
Now, let’s look at the way people think.
You see them as horridly light to heavily stuck in their brains!
Poor suffering you! You suffer from the thought they want to drown you with rats in a drain.
You suffer grossly from I-itis!
It’s time to give to the world, as it has given so
much to you.
And realize, they are not perfect either...
Give those people more than a chance or two!
5-16-2022
Flash floods forecast hurrying steps and wheels ahead of foreboding clouds pregnant as eyelids welling with tears of baptismal rain to cleanse earth's skirt of its mire of blood and dust of blinding confusion with thunder of reproaches and flash of lightning clarity. I had been standing, switching gaze from red eye turning yellow to the traffic slowly rolling in one lane, in the next
a car came speeding forward unaware of the pedestrian, head down, hurrying into its path. In an instant making eternity: Rainbow splendor!
slow car swerving right
blocks car missing collision
saving the man's life
Every day he comes in late, with a frown and a snarl.
I do not know his name. I secretly think of him as grouch man.
He is a young man, possibly out of college a year or two.
He took this job without thinking about moving closer.
The traffic was horrible today he says in a mean way.
No one replies because I am the only one around.
The teacher’s sign in sheet is across from my office.
I have been here for a couple of hours by the time he arrives.
About the third month of school I turned around and asked
“Where do you live?” He told me and I said “You should leave earlier.”
He is still griping to others, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut
Around me. I am not about to keep hearing this until the end of the year.
Eye Liner pencil, cell phone accessible music stream;
Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Knees and toes...
It would appear those two extremities’ are operating this motor vehicle
While under the influence
Inebriated-by
The sobering aspects that are this realm of existence
Which we reside
Hurry up! Let's go! Hey, wait up!
Let's go! I'm in a big...
Hurry up and wait.
This is my road!
Why does everyone have to drive like a bunch of flipping idiots!?
Run over toes today and tomorrow it won't make a difference.
Some time passes and you had long since forgotten about such occurrence.
And on your normal--
Commute this morning you see a noticeable shift in traffic flow. What's the hold up!?
Let's go people!
Several MINUTES later you see a flagger holding up a traffic-sign with an orange triangle.
Instructing in capitalized bold letters:
BOLD!
Construction work, Damn it!
I hate construction.
Semi's think they own the road.
Alert-Attention
ALERT!
bBwhhaaamp-beeweeep-
Ne-ner-ne-ne-
Nen-er-Ne-ner…weee-ooooo—we--oooooooooooo…beep…beep!
You do not own the road either!
And that's how you're acting when you cut off that dump truck-that...
Caused them to have to hire a guy, that you call an *******- under your breath--
While you drive right past with a faked smile; waving,
And this--
Cycle-repeats-staeper-elcyC……………………
-Ironic Zinc 8-31-15
Sound sleep, cozy bed, slow stretch, feeling great
Perfect weather, gentle breeze, soft sunlight
Table laid, with tasty food on my plate
The morning so far, infusing delight
At the traffic light, knock on my window
A passerby gestured to my car wheel
I got down seeing, much to my sorrow
Flat tyre, dampening my joyful feel
Fifteen minutes later, with a stiff back
Spare wheel in place but my briefcase stolen
A hapless victim of a theft attack
As reflex response, my heart spewed poison
11-February-2021
(syllabic rhyme)
Written for: it was a good morning until ... poetry contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Feast your eyes, ladies and gents,
on the spotlight, high up in the circus tent.
We cross our fingers, hoping, in our fright,
our hero stays on the tightrope tonight.
Wait, that man's sixty-six years old,
and he has nary a muscle to behold.
He doesn't not look so very brave
as he gives the crowd a sheepish wave.
His cholesterol is on a slippery slope -
too much butter, and he falls off the rope.
One more sweet? Oops, his sugar level!
Who offered it? It was the devil.
He's between a hard place and a rock.
Watch as he tries to put on his sock.
He's taking quite the frightening risk
of herniating another disc.
He climbs into his car with confusion.
All this traffic could lead to one more contusion.
The thought raises the pressure of his blood.
Oh my, will he fall down with a thud?
An impact of that intensity
would spell trouble with his bone density.
Each step he takes is filled with fear
as he clings to his health so dear.
Feast your eyes, ladies and gents,
on the spotlight, high up in the circus tent.
We cross our fingers, hoping, in our fright,
all of us on this tightrope tonight.