Short Car Park Poems
Short Car Park Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Car Park by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Car Park by length and keyword.
There's many subjects near and dear to my heart
But none so dear as blowing farts off a cart
On our way to the market
Towns folks are the targets
They're not even safe in the underground car park
© Jack Ellison 2015
Early morning
and it is still dark.
An abandoned
shopping trolley stands alone
in the centre of the car park.
I take pity and return it back
to its home and the company
of its own kind where it
rejoins the others
in their long coitus line.
Are you still here? Bullfrog? Is that really your bit?
Come on cupcake, you need to polish up your wit.
Do you shave your head or did it just all fall out?
Your poor little seed didn’t get to far past sprout.
Writer’s block for almost two years.
Wow, it would appear you had a few too many beers.
To much time in the car park, I think.
But bless your heart sweetie you do look pretty in pink.
I saw you were seating in the car park
In the wooden chair, no one I saw there
And you expected no one there by heart
But I crossed your path by a similar idea
We met unexpectedly in a place called "park"
Since all rooms were taken by busy hearts
And all the streets were filled with running cars
We are forced to park here, the place we share
Could this meeting up last for thousands of years?
As so many shoppers
consistently doing all manner of wrong
fail to return their trolleys
from whence they came to where they belong
it really irks when I leave work
drive my hybrid to the supermarket
circle the car park for what seems hours
and can't find a place to park it
the question may seem odd to some
and yet I have to ask it
why don't those self-same lazy people
do to it what they'd do with a shopping basket
Keyboard tough, back to the pub.
A parking lot scanned, looks for a rub.
Boastful and strong, I’m sure indeed.
He’s probably only five foot three.
A complex known to little men.
Very seldom does he even pen.
He makes his claim throughout the land.
Intimidated by the real life man.
I would stand up my brother, for even you.
You should pay a visit, let’s have a brew.
I know you’re partial to the car park ride.
I’m already married, so we’ll just stay inside.
Apart from the worn stone-step
where drunks still topple,
or the hand-painted sign,
all has changed,
now a neon glow backlights a plasticized fascia,
all ‘local color’ painted over.
In the car park,
two frizzy blondes face off,
The smaller has plastic bangles,
she rattles like a Zulu warrior,
fingers stab through cusswords.
Youths shout
over the clomping-thump
of their car radios.
"I used to come here often"
I explain to my incredulous wife.
"Good times."
TELL
Alternative worldview as I sit on my throne,
trolleys in the car park only purpose to exist.
Tell me what is it like to be a pond?
See a mirror in your smooth serene exterior,
are you reeling inside under the surface like me?
Danger of drying up in summer stagnant stinking water.
Frozen solid two seasons later hard as stone.
Are you me or am I you?
Fake personality, make believe, make up to hide
what it’s all about. Smoke and mirrors conquer naked truth, any day.