Racetrack Poems | Examples

Tomorrow

Far off, it has begun to walk the planet,
first it must be buried in a nearby field,
while flights of dreams migrate
from unrealistic expectations.

Meanwhile,
worms' imperceptivity reshape reality.
Fresh perceptions
bloom like cherry trees in Death Valley
neglected vineyards are resuscitated
one vine at a time.

Tomorrow will show up darkly,
it may forestall or bolster,
we may only know for sure
when the roof of the sky is raised,
even so, night still roams somewhere
weeding out exhausted stems of light.

It is just diurnal time
dipping in and out of our eyes,
it’s only the ever displaced and ever prodigal
exchanging old and new testaments of hope
upon a circular racetrack,
one not at all of our making.

Child's Play

They stretched out their arms
Ran with the wind
A circular flight
No beginning – to end

When they came back
Sat down to a snack
Then took a quick spin
Around the racetrack

Onlookers wondered
What would it be like
To do all those things 
From the seat of a bike

To fly like a kite
On the end of a string
Climb in a tree
Join the bird's sing

Hide in tall grass
Become a small bug
Say goodnight to a bear
then give it a hug

Speeders

From interstate 
to racetrack 
cars build up their speed 
racing past troopers 
who don't know 
which one to pull over

Unique Father

Maybe we went fishing
Under the country sky
Then maybe we went camping 
Counting stars and fireflies

In the city maybe we played pool
Restored a car, played chess, bowled
Maybe we went to the racetrack too
But mom isn’t supposed to know 

Maybe we emailed a lot
Because you work so hard so much
Yet every word or call I got
Made me feel your love

Maybe I broke that window
With your favorite autographed ball
Maybe I was so simple
To think you know it all

Maybe to me you are
The greatest of all men
Maybe in my teens
I think you don’t understand 

Maybe in my forties 
I appreciate you more and indeed
It is because you are who you are
A unique Father is everything

Blood Waves

Heated by sun and rock
a mottled snake licks the morning air.
Last night, stones were its eyes,
a blood-chill had frozen the flavor
            and flicker
of tongue and taste.

The daylight is already sun-crushed,
                              heavily it crumbles,
dry churning a scant green
to withered acres,
grinding all beneath its hermetic heel.

A rabbit runs a racetrack behind its eyes,
long whiskers sightlessly search
reaching far from their hidden hollow,
its brown pelt dreamily brushes over
                                a rounding horizon.

Snake uncoils, breaking boulders of blood
between warming bones.
A cage of hoops unlocks a hunger.
A blushed mouth is snugged around
translucent fangs,
    bodkins that smell out
all small-pawed scrabbling’s.

Rabit ears twitch as eyes leap awake,
it hears the serpents lithe unhinging,
senses its scaled unclasping.
An immediate pulse quickens,
vibrant tendons of awareness
                          animate joy and fear.

On the quiet breath,
visions of life or death arise
          as speculative ghosts.
Now the sky must record
            while the earth forgets.

Cellular Minds Raised From Their Beds

A push-button blood alarm
scans the receptivity of softly ticking ears.
It is the ever-wakening
never snoozing
internet jungle calling.

Fasting birds as large as velociraptors
insist on being called parrots,
a raucous conversation hardly heard
as it filters through
3-D printed flugelhorns.

A cell awakes vibrates within an ear socket
demanding its early morning diaper change.
Little silver bells are clanging,
A sub-audial cacophony of eager voices
discharging their erotically-charged salvos
Devices cry to be fed.

Now subliminal texts tattoo
a finger pulsing moment.
Thumbs are itching to be mugged, in-plugged,
abused in a bath of warmed-over news.

The scaly parrots are now too loud to hear,
we are near
our minds nailed to a printing block
and tapping impatiently
as reality is swiped this way and that.

The racetrack is galloping,
white rabbits are being
yanked out of top hats so rapidly
we can only blink our replies
in a hand-held, wide-eyed chameleon sky.

Seeking Flattery of the Crowd

Like a deadly drug, it makes us dance
Put our nose in the air, turn our backs .
Craven souls, want another chance.
Walking over friends, we call hacks?

On, yes we sign, love, but mean it not!
How many trophies can I win ~ I want!
More flattery, please, as we do begin,
On this racetrack of pride,self loved sin!

Classical poets here, very despised.
Only new poetry forms have a place.
We want only our names in the skies.
Self-aggrandizement, a sad disgrace.

               4/19/2023

Christopher Round-Robin

*Image of Winnie-the-Pooh Spoon Race by the sponsor.
AUDIO: by Ka'au Crater Boys singing 'House at Pooh Corner' popularized by Kenny Loggins

Christopher Round-Robin

Christopher Robin, whose name bears o'er song, 
strained mid per sideline crowd of the racetrack,
praising those three most skilled entrants along,
Piglet, Tigger, plus Pooh Bear hears soundtrack.

Strained mid per sideline crowd of the racetrack,
ah, the well-versed Rabbit and his small friends,
Piglet, Tigger, plus Pooh Bear hears soundtrack,
Owl talks and sees while y'all listen, sight lends.

Ah, the well-versed Rabbit and his small friends,
praising those three most skilled entrants along,
Owl talks and sees while y'all listen, sight lends,
Christopher Robin, whose name bears o'er song.

*Photo #4

2021 August 01
*2nd Place*
Pantoum Rhyme 1
~~Eve Roper: Judged 2021 August 13

Runner

Runner 
completes racetrack, 
winning over others 
because constant training denies 
failure.

Damsel In Distress

The distressed damsel

A circuitous racetrack...

Sheer Liberation!


- Ansar
2/03/21

Number 47

The antique clock is silent
it ticks and chimes no more.
The old leather satchel, redundant,
hangs idly by the door.

The kitchen table is dormant,
devoid of function or chat,
once the hub of the household,
around which the family all sat.

The fireplace in the living room,
dead, it’s function defunct.
A newspaper idly strewn nearby,
a cup, in which biscuits were dunked.

The walls, once vibrant with laughter,
silent, a cold carapace.
The halls, a place of adventure,
a racetrack where children would chase.

The old house settles and creaks,
it’s memories locked in time.
Now no one speaks of the family,
as the old clock gives one last chime.

Royal Reasoning

a narrative with alliteration

Royal radio reviews the Rainbow Raffle Rally planned to raise rubles 
for the rugged racetrack recently recommended ‘round  Rybinsk Reservoir.

One rich ruler, who runs the Ragweed Railway resists with red-ribbon resolve. 
His rogue reaction to a ring of rubber stamp rednecks
left realistic Regnum reporters in a rush to rock their readers
regarding the rift between the Ragweed Roadblock and the Rainbow Raffle. 

Rather like a rabbit racing a rhino, such rivalry is not reasonable.  
Rally is off the radar - racetrack has been royally rejected! 

February 10, 2020

Brian Strand, host
STRAND Select J, contest

Border Line

Turbocharged you refuse to stop at the sentry

Full speed ahead on the racetrack of manipulation

Safety belt suspending the breaks in free flight

Airbag punctured long ago in rapid disconnect


I put up traffic lights for you at so many T-junctions

Set boundaries and barriers on both sides of the road

Built bridges and roundabouts and paid traffic fines

But violations kept coming and you crossed the red line


Some say you are too young to have a driving licence

And recite chaos theory for your very own highway to hell

De-rooted yield signs lie broken next to strewn promises

Sweet child now it is time to gather your scrap heap alone


I won’t be drawn into further collusion and enablement

Must wave the chequered flag of surrender of abused trust

You will crash on and on until you take consequent charge

I will not rescue you any longer but secure my own lane



30th January 2020

Blurred Frenzy

the minutes
the hours
the days
in wild frenzy
whistle by

before long
weeks turn
to months
to years

on the racetrack
life in a blur
careens at
headpopping speed
i can barely hang on

yet
every once
in a while
it pauses
for a rare
precious moment

i take a deep breath
and thank god
you’re still here
by my side                              



AP: 3rd place 2020

Posted on November 28, 2019

Trap of Least Effort

As she prepared to go out for the evening
She thought she’d make a calculated effort
She couldn’t help but notice how long
It had been since the last time

After a bath she combed her hair and
Found a fancier top to wear
With her freshly washed leggings
She even waved a bit of an old mascara wand
Making a mental note that she’d have to remember
That extra step of removing it before bedtime

She had stopped wearing makeup years ago
Because she could not be bothered
But now suddenly she caught her reflection
In the mirror looking surprisingly good
It dawned on her how long she’d been 
Living her life pretty well in her sweatpants
Following the law of least effort
She’d fallen off to the side of the racetrack
Or maybe she’d parked herself there deliberately
Plain tired of trying to play the game               



AP: 2nd place 2020

Posted on February 9, 2019

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