Fisherman serene by the lake.
Sunday in December.
Others sit grid locked going shopping
At a bend in the road
One needs take utmost care,
More so on road of life.” By author
****************************************************************
Rush Hour
Hectic rush at day`s end
Everybody in haste
Traffic jammed at road bend
Proceeding at snail`s pace
Sound of sonorous smash
Splits my dream in a rash.
The sand from the hourglass is slipping through the cracks between my fingers.
as I track my time in increments,
regulated, rhythmic, redundant.
the weekends coming,
it’s almost winter break.
I think, as I fail to realize that I am watching time pass me by
like I'm standing on the side of the road watching the cars drive by
instead of being in one,
controlling the wheel and pressing the gas.
I catch a glimpse of an empty car parked on the side of the road,
desperately scrambling towards it,
my hair whipping around my face,
obscuring my vision,
clouding my judgement.
I try and try and try to push it away—
but it keeps coming back.
drive, drive, drive,
a voice tells me.
as I steady my shivering, shaking hands grasping the wheel.
don't,
my hair hisses.
encircling my face with the grip of a vice
tighter, and tighter, then black.
EDSA traffic jam
Lined glittering unmoved cars
Spread like stars.
I have issues with the sun
It burns
It burns so much these days
It burns it hurts my face
Yet I am going out now
Right into this traffic jam
Right when the sun is big and bright
Where is dawn?
What a mess I am
There is no such thing as a want in me
I rather tuck myself in my blankets as I wake
Shut the doors
Shut the window
Lock it all
And do nothing
And that's part of the reason I am late
That's why I am going out right into this traffic jam
Out to the doing of stuff
Out into engaging in mundane activities
For the mere chance of maybe sustaining thyself
Plus some maybe surplus
I put the same song on repeat
As I go out right into this traffic jam
I am such a miserable creature
And that's why I walk around with my head down
Self loathe
What bravery is needed to be me everyday
The worst thing is I am not so uncaring
But somehow I embrace the me that I know lacks
It's funny how even I am right in this traffic jam
I wish to just go out
And just go back home
Sitting here in rush hour I moan and sigh
Horn’s honk, engine’s rev, a Monday to miss
Birds whooshing overhead as time ticks by
When from below I hear a squealing hiss
The tire! Is murphy's law to blame for this?!
I hop out to check and PLOP! That damn bird!
I pop the hood to a clang, clunk and creak
Was that the beep from the engine I heard?
I grumble and groan, I just want to shriek!
As cars whiz by, what a start to the week....
I start to tinker around when VvvROOM, SPLASH!
Surrounded by traffic rumbling past
One zooms through a puddle, my suit is trash
Coolant sprays up in my face with a blast
First day at the new job might be my last…
July 6, 2022
Onomatopoeia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
A lazy day
No work waitng for you
No routine
No restrictions
You may not obey the time
No need to rush for breakfast
Traffic jams and crowds become nonsense
Breakfast become brunch
You may cook some maggie mee to start the day
And packaged food or canned food
For the rest of the day
Confined to a self lockdown
You stuck to the handphone or tv
And the world is at your finger tips
Day and night have no difference
The sun never rise and set untill tomorrow
Free of the mind and free of the soul
For one day only
And maybe a prayer for the world to go round
once more tomorrow
The winter darkness falls before the day
Has run its course, long ere the eyes of those
Who labor seek surcease from weariness.
The home-bound traffic winds its halting way
Beneath the moon-bound Evening Star and slows—
A mess.
And so I sit with promises to keep,
Ensnarled within a concrete wilderness
As news and music streams from radios.
At last the exit home—to eat, to sleep,
And rest.
We had a car, not many did,
financed and fuelled by bread and jam,
food deprivation that I hid
from jealous kids who’d mock the sham;
pride misjudging as a winner
Ford denoting "Forfeit dinner"
So while, no doubt, they envied me
I lusted their hot Sunday lunch
as they inhaled mum’s recipe
for dishes needing bite and crunch,
whilst dominating our car trips
my salivating yearn for chips.
Another boring day I make my way
down this life’s tricky busy long freeway
So many travelers choose to go as well,
in slaving sync to the cold life school bell
We all so focused on the single prize,
so much assets to gain and maximize
My car is rusty and not too trusty
My mind conviction pure and just gutsy
So many jams clog the path to your heart,
transforming my ride to a slow oxcart
Again frustration at the sight of red,
again my efforts going head to head
Looking at your lips for the light of green,
but your smile is still a sight to be seen
-for S1's contest-
The expanding stripe of cars stretches
Noxious fumes drawn inside by pink flesh
From this sight, looks as though the trees lost the battle
Heart still pumps energy to skeletal limbs moving
To unheard music
Grace filters through, highlighting the gift of discernment
I let the music enter me, and I enter the music
Which is greater, love of warmth on bare branches
Or sadness from the absence of rustling leaves?
The horizon swallows the line an inch at a time
Caught up in the moment, carried by the voices of women present
And those gone
Realization comes
The dimmer switch is stuck on glow
I disrobe and sprint past the long streak of cars
Sitting on the soft cushion seat
Start of turtle movement
The advert on the bus
Is the only catchy appeal
The drumming of the engine
The grunting of the taxi
Dusk getting crisp
Dull glow of the sun
The glance at the sky
With a wish to fly
The buttocks begin to get sore
I see my finger nails
Then back to the next lane
I feel my eyes burn
A long ribbon of taillights flashing
The next lane is fast moving
Taxi driver snoring
The turtle movement
Develops anxiety
Feeling thirsty
Phone rings
Good news
Another party
Feeling oozy
Glazing outside the window
Another turtle movement
Nerves rest - feet asleep
With an effort
Feet wake up
Anxiety rising - start to walk
trying to catch plane
it was insane
we got caught
not bought
we were like lams
in a
TRAFFIC JAM
Traffic jam in the ways of life
crowded noisy groan hazardous
Oh ! mind breathing suffers from suffocation
Busy all are hurry no time
reach the destination by hook or by crook
to get the works done run and run
To avail few minutes for few days
to keep happy all the ways
try again and again fun and fun
What is got that's the gain
from giving and taking game
if not not mine no worry and no pain.
I am sweating all over
In the traffic jam
And bored of waiting so long!
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.