Short Road Rage Poems
Short Road Rage Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Road Rage by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Road Rage 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!
Ruled By the Road
There are those who may be fooled,
When we by road have been ruled;
Road rage,
Never engage;
Always will win when we are dueled.
Jim Horn
"Lights Beam"
"Horns Sing"
"Beep Beep"
"You Creep"
"Face Frown"
"Slow Down"
"Move It"
"Dim Wit"
"Scream Shout"
"Look Out"
"Dirty Smirk"
"You Jerk"
honking expletives
an irate driver
aggressively gestures
at my patient attitude
and the gaggle of geese
crossing in single file…
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Folks scream, honk and shout like they have no brain
Even in fog and the glare and the rain
Slow down rounding a hill
And you'll wind up road kill
I know I'm bound to be driven insane!
1/24/23
Obey all traffic signs and lights
Avoid road rage, rants and fights
Remember: drive in defensive mode
Instead of as if you own the road
Always be courteous as you drive
It will help to keep everyone alive
Young teenage drivers with looks of scorn
Coming up behind blaring their horn
With anger and road rage
Too scary for their age
Especially with expletives sworn
7/30/19
Contest: Whats Bugging Me
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
Cruising in my pickup truck
Seems I might be out of luck
A semi with a heavy load
Just ran my ass off the road
I wonder if he was aware
I doubt he even saw me there
Not much to do at this stage
To help subdue my growing rage
Roaring round roads raucously
Orally overtly offending operators
Acrid antagonistic adjectives aired
Defiantly daring distracted drivers
Ranting raving railing
Aggravate annoy atrocious
Gregarious gone Goebbels
Exacerbate engage enrage
For lent you have to give up
Something that you enjoy
Well that gave me a lot more choices
When I was but a boy
Now it’s not quite so easy
I don’t enjoy too much at my age
So I will have to give up being cantankerous
Or just give up road rage
Form:
recklessness attacks ego
fury attacks soul
adrenaline attacks viscera
middle digit attacks upward
foot attacks accelerator
vehicle attacks vehicle
hand attacks pistol
lead attacks flesh
remorse attacks fury
gavel attacks sound block
inmate attacks inmate
Driving alone through the pouring rain,
plenty of time and road to gain,
now who is that nut driving so insane,
it must be a dang lame brain,
Sakes alive! they keep switching lanes!
Why can't they wait 'til the weather wanes!?
All these nuts! done strained my brain,
Complain, complain, blame, blame, blame!
Hurricane,
Insane—
Bettie Page,
Road rage—
Osama,
Oboma—
JFK,
Blown away—
Thin ties,
Tie dyes—
Ernest Tubb,
Beelzebub!
WMD,
Wannbe—
John McCain
Still a pain—
911,
Twenty-four seven—
JonBennet,
Turned away—
Poetry,
Geometry—
James Dean,
Was a queen—
Hurricane,
Insane—
Bettie Page,
Still the rage.
Ring finger was tired of being pretty
shush said Middle; I have to be witty
and you cause road rage, said the thumb
he didn’t know this was kind of dumb.
Pinkie said I grow the pointiest nail
Finger next to thumb was silent, unused Dale
He could not think of anything he could do
You help us play the piano! Said the optimist, Pinkie Sue.
Young buck
steals truck
Drives fast
Flies past
Beeps horn
To warn
Road rage
Rampage
Cuts in
Too thin
Fender
Bender
Crashed car
Poor Pa!*
Huge mess …
confess
In cell
It’s hell
In clink
Can think
British way of saying 'pa' which sounds like 'par'*
6th June 2015
a more serious set of footles
You and your Road Rage
Should be locked in a cage
Way back in the Stone Age
You blacken the Space Age
Each time you go on a rampage
Won't you please try to gauge
How you impact the teen-aged
You and your Road Rage
Your words are an outrage
Once released, can't be assuaged
They disgrace your 'Golden Age'
You and your Road Rage
There is loud angry shouting on our road today
This never happens
We have lived here seventeen years, and I have never heard this
Cars usually go up and down this country road with windows up
My dogs’ ears rise to peaks; they are curious too
I am horrified, realizing I could never beat them to the road rage
Or drag them back, they are too strong and big for me
ROAD BULLY
You really are a putz
You beep, you crowd
Your radio’s loud
You act like such a nut
You really are a pain
You swerve, you brake
For heavens sake
You rarely use your brain
You really think your queen
You text, you read
All while you speed
And then get really mean
A bully is what you are
The swears, the rage
Not acting your age
All this while driving a car
Who is that fiend, I asked today, that races down the road,
In a hard-cased metal tomb that the Devil kindly sold.
He must have heard, despite the growling protest of a wail,
For in that instance a defense of smoke erupted from its tail.
It blinded me from seeing who believed to have control.
Play your lavish games with your flimsy mortal soul,
And with a jolt of impact crash, as reality takes its toll.
Hover cars.
Who needs them?
Los Angeles.
Maybe if they had them, the gangs would stop fighting.
Hover cars.
Have they been invented yet?
I am sure they have.
Let's get them out onto the highways, and stop the road rage.
Hover cars.
Built for congested freeways.
For people who spend four hours a day in their cars.
Pretending to like something on the radio.
How can we get them to Los Angeles? Fast!
Memories of him are still there upon Weymouth Road
his sullen white cross nailed to the old Kauri
symbolize by countless layers of uncaring street wise graffiti,
while burdensome scars revealed by heavy metal grow faint
and the old Rose i placed withered and faded
in the over grown yet still blood stained grass,
a monument still there for the few of us
those that cared those with lives full of guilt
'when you mate ran out of life number nine!'
© Harry J Horsman 2013
I hate driving
I hate what it does to me
I strive to be better
And behave courteously
But the second
The car door slams
I feel myself change
Into a different man
I lose my communication skills
Speaking in gestures
Or coded messages on the horn
That don’t relieve the pressure
Driving makes me intolerant
Impatient and aggressive
It makes me angry
Selfish and abusive
I hate driving
I hate what it does to me
It fills me with rage
For every thing I see
Form:
What do you see
When you open your ears and hear
The smell of death
Descending upon the valley
Quickly and methodically
Choosing words to fit
The description
While the sketch artist
Chokes them down with a
Lime juice chaser.
Upon completion,
You see a mirror on the desk
And marvel at your own eyes
Gazing intently at your own
Eyes.
Confusion.
How does one project themselves?
Only I recognize me.
I giggle at the self-loathing,
And the pathetic detective work.
To the gentle nature we can all aspire
Never causing ourselves to perspire,
From having been unexpectedly rude
For having been intentionally crude,
The gentle nature holds us in check
Keeps road rage from becoming a wreck,
Stifles anger with a soft-spoken word
Silent when one needs not be heard,
Welcomes the gentle and kind in life
Flees nastiness and unnecessary strife,
To the gentle nature we can all aspire
Never causing ourselves to perspire.
written May 26, 2021
Earwigs from the radio chew past wax to my brain.
Shush shush shush of wipers,
the pasty wheeze of wet cold road cannot distract.
So, my resolve sways left than right, drawing
low back muscles tight, with each argument
breath comes harder. Fists wave as fingers point.
Suited, polished, brass balled men rise between
the road and my eyes,
wail of perfected lies through perfect teeth bring down
barrier after barrier as I am swallowed
in the wide slow maw of death’s valley.