Thoroughfare Poems | Examples

No - Scared

There once was a robot with a fixed stare
That met a lion on the thoroughfare. 
     When faced with the real thing
     Its poor heart went ‘ting’
As he repeated on a loop, ‘No. Scared.’

December 3, 2000

To my complacent Ms. Crane

I am at odds my love, your comely visage has my heart rend. I struggle somewhere betwixt carnality and a fervent want of your attention. Oh! Ms. Crane, I do so labor for your love. The muse runs foolhardy across every page, and on stage I act the jester just to catch a glimpse of that sweet Southern smile. I do so aspire to taste the nectar of your kiss. All this time apart has my heart yearning, even imploring your touch. I beseech your name to stop the tribulation, to ease the travailing of my heart. My belle I don't say these things in comfort, I adamantly long for a union of our souls, and a harmony played on our heartstrings. As God is my witness, love is our destination, however our journey begins with us. I query of your heart oh misfortuned women, what perplexes your heart? What clutters your mind's thoughts? Is it I? My only desire is your happiness. I too, see happiness as my endeavor. So this leaves us at a crossroad. Shall we be a blessed union, or do we wander trodden thoroughfare?

Preemptively yours
Michael

A Nature Adventure

The love song echoed 
Among the picturesque hills. 
They laughed despite their shrill voices.
Trees tremble as leaves fall.
Golden Autumn was approaching. 
Still, all is fresh and alive.

Above, clouds rushed among the dark purple trees.
The whispering leaves, the humming breeze, 
As large geese flew towards the south.
Yet robins would not be left behind.
Whilst Dunnocks used their song 
As they asserted their dominance with their mates.

Yet suddenly, the sky darkens, threatening,
The two lovers ran toward their sleek car.
A timeless dance of pitter-patter
The rhythm of light raindrops gave them warmth, 
They had prepared a delicious assortment of eatables.
Then switching up their radio, 
Left the vale and drove into the broad thoroughfare
Towards their cosy and spacious house in the town.

Summer at the Oasis Maul

A drop of summer, pleasing--over there
I thought it wanted me, no want of ground 
but want of me, instead a pleasant sound
of birds merging and darting thoroughfare
seemingly clueless of their doing-dare
o'er crowds busy about, looking spellbound
course to escape amiss ahead turned round
to freedom with the banners released to air.

In the opened venues queues roundabout
every which way as the buying frenzy
curtailed from end to pass the noontime lunch
crowd slowing and going but caterers doubt 
that the dinner crowd will be as lengthy
till gathering increased, gave them a hunch.

Fabriq Affair

Couples sway along the Champs Elyesses.
Love songs waltz through the thoroughfare.
This Haute Couture week in Paris.
And the Chicest gather there.
A fast peek into Solaris.
At this Fabriq Affair.

Verbal Fists Flying

    the public thoroughfare
      pummeled, profaned
    verbal fists rumble from 
      amped-up throats...  

    a generation or two
      with nothing better to do
    than scream at the intersection 
      of decline and decay

Replaced

Lumbering bulldozers grind 
and rip trees and shrubs
from the empty lots, competing
with gas fumes, the noise 
of trucks, and honking horns 
on the busy thoroughfare.

Two gracious houses,
once precious home to families, 
but long abandoned 
and fallen into disrepair,
smashed to kindling,  
hauled away for scrap

Just up the grassy hill
behind our senior residence,
we’ll watch another
commercial business go up.
Recent car wash on the corner,
now another bank? Fast food?

Alongside our apartments, 
in the past, a Christmas tree farm,
sweet smelling pines replaced
with roads and new homes,
manicured lawns and two-,
sometimes three-car garages.

Countryside eaten away
by ever-increasing population
with insatiable desire for the 
shiny, new, bigger and better,
for the quick and easy, 
immediate convenience.

Afternoon teas exchanged for
socially beneficial cocktail parties.
Casual-, even sports-wear, in
the finest restaurants, rudeness
and boorish comments the norm, 
“Gracious” suffering a slow death.

Cherry Mirth

Written: June 02, 2024 For Tania Kitchin Contest

                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'm
At ease
fortunate
frolicking balls
no need to be scared
drive the life thoroughfare
with each fact stacking in grace
surely, don't run insane or wound
rivet mirth and carry the waves peak
 dear friends who just invigorate my life.

Forever Eve

A dry wind lifts a damp fringe of
gray hair.
She is wrinkled,
her mouth sunken
over dentures.

She's as thin as dust
but glows
on the edge of her ruin.

The earth aches.
to seed her again with
a long-buried star-shine.

In this concrete thoroughfare
with its cold blind windows,
she is ever fertile
she is Eve.

The Pothole On the Road

The pothole on the road
under the lamppost
 filled with nonstop downpour. 
Also, some water spread thoroughfare.
In the evening as the lights turned on
the hole produced
lamp’s beautiful reflection!
The sporadic rain droplets
heightened the scope
by forming startling images of a kaleidoscope.

The Bygones

Eroding names on long-faced headstones,
a small graveyard marooned on a patch of past;
long rooted and confined while beside it
2022 blares unseeing past the forgotten lot.

An old-fangled America right there
forgotten crypts
tucked between gas station and strip mall,
a small deposit of once horse-drawn bones
amid a modern thoroughfare.

A haze of traffic emissions half-hides the secreted,
the tucked away,
yet, there are whispers on mossy mounds,
mouthless echoes of forked-over farmers,
matrons of dispersed parishes,
tanners wrapped in musty mule skins.

An olden daze leans toward us,
tilts into the present, slides sideways into
a ‘Wendy's’ car-park.

Voices sweat into the skin of a biker filling his tank;
beneath his dew rag they wetly whisper.
He shudders in the warm sunlight,
thinks about a lime phosphate soda
long defunct.

A cloudy memory follows a teenager
toward a newly opened store,
but the new won’t thrive long.

Nothing around here survives
longer than the bygones.

Keola - Free Verse

Keola – Free Verse
Crossroads Converge

Robert Frost

TWO ROADS crossed paths – DIVERGED IN A crossroads YELLOW WOOD
AND I felt the binding turning points
Bound up on fiery indecision of whispering bellows 
Take the smooth byway that beckoned –
The easy thoroughfare of compromising positions –
Or
A narrower way, a dusty avenue of overgrown ambivalence,
A rough path cobbled with pacing anxiety
Tread this indolent valley’s vacillation
Slightly overgrown with luring curiosity begging for attention.

I TOOK this invitation
THE ONE with scattered isolated footprints LESS TRAVELED
BY hasty choices AND the one THAT sang
In baritone vibrations of either or –
That HAS promises of reconciliation in quiet meditations
MADE upon this parallel path –
ALL OF THE DIFFERENCE beneath the serenity of arching boughs
And songbirds cooing in cool glens, scented leaves fluttering,
Resting in consolation’s life -
The consummation of white fire.

1-21-22
Contest: Keola Secret
Sponsor:  William Kekaula

Vigilent Mojo

I discovered the mystery 
Of her painted runic stone 
Immediately upon opening 
The dainty envelope 
She'd so thoughtfully sealed 
With a Valentine sticker. 
With comforting impact 
It dropped unexpectedly 
Into my conveniently located hand.
(Conveniently unexpected 
And unexpectedly located, 
With immediate and comforting impact.) 
And in the moment of discovery, 
I recalled the perfect sweetness 
Of her Cheshire smile 
As she stood self-confidently 
On the sidewalk of the thoroughfare, 
Like a danger girl who had captured 
A spy boy's complete attention 
With effortless persuasion. 
That’s typical of her. 
Does her mojo ever sleep?

Ghost Train

Oh station , station

Yee of intermittent locomotive
thoroughfare

Once standing proud now
sadly scheduled surplus to 
moderna

Redundant made it's ticket
booth , collector and so to
it's master

Resigned and destined for 
graffiti spray to patch it's
walls

With it's clock battery powered
down

It's fate a clubhouse for tomorrows
youth to wreck and frequent gather
in and under

Smoke and try initial cigarette
plume cough and alcoholic 
spirit drunken after shock
hangover

It's track's to be repatriated back
to nature 6 foot overgrown by
scrub , weed and bush

No click no clack no whisper
harking back

Visitation only by means of
historical scholastic dissertation

It's final lesson thus if willing to
accept

Everything once valued once
it has seved it's purpose and
past it's exasperation date

Will in fact so to in future be 
cast aside and face this 
exact fate

And maybe if nothing else
but for death will be saved from

Seeing all the things we
treasure and keep as memories
most dear

Disappearing before us and
and so to point out

That the light at the end of the
tunnel is fast becoming dimmed
by the milli-second

Through Rough Thoroughfare

Happy birthday, Licerie Claire, 
Life is not always a smooth road; 
One passes through rough thoroughfare, 
Having traveled with heavy load. 

Topic: Birthday of Licerie Claire R. Tanggap (March 30)

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