Short Motor Poems
Short Motor Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Motor by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Motor by length and keyword.
We know all roads lead to Rome
So you drive a posh Motor Home
For goodness sake
Elate your mate
And lose that damn garden gnome!
There must be a better way to start each day
Than waking up each morning, what do you say
In the arms of girlie
Now that would surely
Start my motor a-purring in a delightful way
Your Choice T Poetry Contest: Sponsored by Brian Strand (April/May 2025)
all time classic soul
music from a poor man’s son
turn that volume up
for the motor city sound
now everything is alright
Seventy degrees in Canada in October
You'd think I've been drinking but I'm totally sober
Take it while we can
Cold weather's soon at hand
Enjoy! Enjoy! This sure charges one's motor
motorcycle roars
penetrating the quiet night
shattering the silence
aircraft on the runway
jet engines scream before lift off
to the clouds above
on the waterfront
ocean liner calling her flock
- the loud blaring horn
Seventy degrees in Canada in October
Think I've been drinking but I'm totally sober
Take it while we can
Cold weather's soon at hand
Enjoy! Enjoy! This sure charges one's motor
© Jack Ellison 2015
Motor
O grande motor da vida
é o sonho,...Sempre
que uma pessoa sonha
o mundo pula
como bola colorida
nas mãos de uma criança.
O sonho
é batom,
é espuma,
é fermento,
bichinho
de focinho pontudo,
que fossa através de tudo
num perpétuo movimento
de fazer mais e mais.
the skiff chugs along
toward the end of the lake
where the tall peaks rise
snowcapped mountains ripple
across a backwash
an eagle
glides in a blue distance
a red and yellow float
mirrors itself
below the surface
one silvery fish slipping
under
a deeply swimming sun
no way to catch that
the new employee was a walking cartoon
opening his mouth proved he was a buffoon
would have seemed wiser if he could have kept quiet
said the weirdest things, thought he was a riot
we ran from the lunchroom as soon as we spied
the exaggerator, who made up things, and always lied.
Did we ever give him a chance? Yes some of us tried.
But he was a horror, this motor-mouth, Clyde.
The outboard chugged along
toward the end of the lake
where the tall peaks were.
When the motor cut, all was still.
Then snowcapped mountains
began to rise-up from the lake;
eagles flew under our hull.
Imagine staring at your float,
humped like a heron over the bow
while a panoramic sky
moved under your boots.
Imagine Rainbow trout
sailing around the sun.
No way to catch that.
I pointed to a little motor inside me
My teacher shook her head
Said, 'No such thing, no such name'
Left her classroom burning with shame
All the same I heard it a-whirring and purring
Directing my footsteps, so reassuring
Though not on a path my teacher would like
I felt it touch my soul, almost dreamlike
Never did I return to that cursed classroom
I needed my freedom so I could bloom
My motor inside would propel me to heights
~ no longer beholden to artificial light