Short Chauffeur Poems
Short Chauffeur Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Chauffeur by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Chauffeur by length and keyword.
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furry chauffeur grins~
convertible, no coat, just
nuts in the glovebox
There once was a chauffeur called Bart,
Who had a Rolls that wouldn’t start.
He wanted to be green -
His boss was very mean -
So now he drives a horse and cart.
When I saw Miss Daisy drunk driving
It seems like someone was jiving
She was driving to fast
That she crashed and pass
Giving her chauffeur wealth now he's thriving
DEAR LOVE
He showered her with expensive gifts
Because he loved her dearly.
He bought her jewels from Tiffany’s,
Until he was bankrupt nearly.
And then she ran off with the chauffeur.
He’d loved her – very dearly!
I have made myriads of blunders but yours makes my heart ache
That I didn't tell you, makes it the most regrettable mistake.
But,like the moon I will love you silently from afar
Knowing well that you will never be my emotions Chauffeur.
Living in remorse is just something I must take
Today a tribute to women…to women everywhere
A simple acknowledgment of all the hats you wear…
And men…if you hadn’t thought of this before…
A little something to make you think:
A mother, a secretary, a teacher
a chauffeur, a maid, a counselor
a cook and a cleaner walk into a bar….
And then she sits down and orders a drink.
Masks are rare but not so coughs,
Yet here we are on board.
Hope that for our travels,
Sickness isn’t the reward.
Made it to the airport early -
5 a.m., a blur,
Our grandson coming for the ride.
(His dad was our chauffeur.)
Heading south to visit kin;
It’s nearly been a year,
But masked and boostered, here we go
‘Fore chances disappear.
I dreamt
the sun was a Cadillac
with a black chauffeur
and I was a giant brown gofer
with yellow teeth
and a prostate gland
you wouldn't believe.
But I awoke
and found the moon
was a white grub
greasy as a hunk of fat
snuggled in my bed
between wet sheets
and purple hot water bottles,
dreaming of Camelot
and calmly reciting Keats.
Form:
Like Animals in a plantation, so is life
Monkey must slave and Baboon must chop
Monkey must sweat and Baboon must miliki
Monkey sow, Baboon harvest
That's life's philosophy
Like Animals in a plantation, so is life
Monkey gather, Baboon plunder
When Monkey hussle, Baboon go Rustle
Monkey be chauffeur, Baboon balance for back
That's life's philosophy
Monkey be slave, Baboon be Master
That is life.
FLOWERS
Bluebells sing of jolly spring days
In damp fields with sparkling rills
And the scented blue haze
Filling our nostrils
Hidden in bunches of daffodils in rooms
Are cemetery visits to make the stones neat
And replace spent plastic blooms
Wilting in the heat
Chauffeur-driven car and chrysanthemums
Suggest weddings with expensive foods
And speeches and photo albums
And windshields ribboned to hoods.
It took a long time, but they finally grew up
Each...with individual diversions...Ha!
Five roads...five conclusions, (yet, but not)
“Children are a gift from God”, unwrapped at birth
Coercing us to change...not an option
I’ve become a doctor, judge, nutritionist,
speech therapist, teacher, and chauffeur...
All without license
In the final analysis of ‘raising’ children
Could it possibly be said...
I’ve finally grown up?
Form:
Sour Rita is a meter maid
she’s checking car drivers have paid
if you step out of line
she will issue a fine
of Rita drivers are afraid
Her beady eyes dart round the lot
she’s looking for folk who forgot
to pay and display
and it makes her day
to impose a fine like a shot
From fining she’ll never deter
don’t attempt to reason with her -
just zip up your gob
she’s doing her job
next journey arrange a chauffeur!
4/26/19
She strode from her apartment door
Right to a chauffeured car
In workout clothes, so I suppose
She wasn’t going far.
The lifestyles of the rich, I guess,
Are not like mine or yours.
The luxury of what might be
Is more than opened doors.
It constitutes a life of ease
Where ordinary stress
Just disappears and with it, fears
The rest of us possess.
It doesn’t mean they’re happier,
Despite their lavish means;
But how I’d thrive with one to drive
As I plied my routines!
My mother’s nuggets,
They chauffeur her day,
They armour her journey,
They lace her path.
They pervade her room,
In her chamber, they bloom,
She sings their praises,
She basks in their ambiance.
They accompany her in their company,
They buoy her boat,
In tempest, she stays afloat,
They trestle the bridge across ridges.
They're her windows to view the outside,
They bring light to her inside,
They take the wheel,
They aid her up the hill.
August 22, 2023.