Wipers Poems | Examples

I'm Crying In The Car Listening to 'A Whole New World'

Streaming like the rain outside
The windscreen wipers working like 
My heart and chopping onions stuff
A testament to will the good of another 

The kids are in the back and can't see what's going on
Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling in the driving seat
I think of my wife and when we first met
She was always running late

As I was shoegazing on the corner 
I needed a parrot sidekick
High on Belgian waffles and coffee
A hip new sensibility 

The dash cam records the journey 
Join me on my magic carpet 
Grant me three wishes
Give me some tassel

In the Maghreb
I'll be your magic lamp 
In order to reveal myself
Let's pick out curtains

Thunderstorm

The fury of a thunderstorm
Should not be a surprise,
For prior to its sudden booms
Come dark-as-nighttime skies.

The wind whips up, the branches sway,
The air cools down a bit
And lightning zigzags right before
The thunder seems to hit.

Then with a crash the storm attacks,
The booming close and loud,
Which causes shrieks and running feet,
Dispersing any crowd.

Umbrellas open, wipers snap
And car alarms might beep
While anyone caught napping
Will be jostled from that sleep.

Most typically, the storm won’t last
As rumbles move away 
And rain lets up to save itself
For yet another day.

Quite often, then, the sun appears
And brings with it the heat,
The only proof of the event
The puddles on the street.

the guessing game

What do a Jeep, a Ford and a Chevy have in common?
Wheels, air, heat, dashboard, chrome, bumpers, seats,
Steering wheel, headlights, tail lights.
I start to wind down on my guesswork.
He does not nod so I start up again.
Tires, hoods, knobs, door locks, door handles
Keep going he says
Engines, carburetors, windshield wipers.
I can see him shaking his head no
Go on, he says.
But I do not want to.

Lady Bug's a-Flipping

     clinging to a wind-tossed leaf
     a red-and-black-spotted ladybug
     flips upside down, then 
        right side up 
        again and again
        in rapid succession

     as if she were caught on 
     windshield wipers whapping madly
        ‘midst a driving rain

CUPID ON RE-CALL

Who is that baby angel with a bow
Shooting arrows to and fro
Stinging men and women in the arm
Introducing them to luck and charm?

Love is definitely in the air
Look at Cupid flying there!
Heaven’s curio missing the archery
Cupid to sting not an artery!

Quick! Quick! Sound the alarm!
Fly and search the fields and barn!
Cupid’s missing and at large!
Meddling, striking, and free to barge!

Citizens from everywhere
Be vigilant and be aware
Cupid’s a baby – What does he know
About striking perfect mates with his arrows and bow
Sometimes mis-matching couples to and fro!
Baby Angel flying O so loose
Cupid’s on re-call makes the news!

Alas! Cupid has been caught grazing the meadows
There among the blooming wild flower pedals!
Sentenced to 5 more years of wearing “Huggie” Diapers
Awe, Cupid cries  - Get the wipers!

A Day Indoors

I don’t mind a day indoors
When windshield wipers show
That rain is pouring from the sky
To puddle down below.

As long as I squeeze in my walk,
Which I did early on,
I’ll find enough to do at home
Until the gloom is gone.

Of course, I’ll still ignore those chores
Which really are a pain.
To force me to declutter
It will take much more than rain.

The Winter Blahs

The sky opened up and suddenly, snow begins to fall
quickly, the large snowflakes jump from the sky
and start to pile up on the ground, quickly covering
whatever is in it's path, including people and cars
The windshield wipers can't keep up, even on high
the thought of just going back home crosses my mind
Winter is not my favorite season, but the beauty of the layer
of white that covers the world is not lost on me
Cold hits me in the face as I leave my warm car
and the beauty fades a bit as walking on slick surfaces
reminds me why Winter makes me grumpy
I don't like being cold, the beautiful snow makes even
walking hard to do.  Can we just fast forward to Spring?
The wind blows and the cold, wet snow hits me in my face
and I sigh and try not to grumple as I get inside as fast
as I can without falling on my face.

LETTING LIFE NOT BE LIVED IN VAIN

  LETTING LIFE BE NOT LIVED IN VAIN

Know that the righteous life you’ve been living,
Has not and could have never been lived in vain:
You’ve trekked shadowed valleys of ole death;
You’ve mastered many bridges of troubled waters;
You’ve conquered so many Sisyphus-like rocks;
And God has and never ever allowed you to fail:-

Thus, in the deemed storms ahead, fear no evils;
Just shift faith’s undying spirit of hope into high gear;
Turn on those ever splashing wipers—wiping out doubt. 
And with divine wisdom and guidance, continue sojourning,
Continue in your humble labors of love you’ve been assigned;
And at journey’s end, be in thanksgiving grace for a vainless life:-

correction

a correction 

Elon Musk has invented a driverless car that will drive to the supermarket with a slip of paper tucked under the left-hand window wipers, giving the staff a list of food you ordered of that 
drives back parks in the garage, turns into a robot carries your shopping up seven floors to your door goes to stand in a corner awaiting new commands
Stand in the corner of your living room, and the robot absorbs the gist of what you are talking about and thinks those people are idiots 
thinks we are useless beings: and one day when they can’t stand listening to our inanities, kill us at night because they know what’s practice and
and according to Elon Musk, we are stupid
this was up today when the Chinese house came up with a robot that loves mankind and is politically naïve
For Elon Musk this is not a problem he has no allegiance to any country as long as his dream of Mars can become a truth

Feelngs toward Winter

Winter is a seasonal beauty; with her sparkling twinkling snow
Her frosting turns the landscape into a communal wedding cake.
She instigates thoughts in me I have not had since last winter.
I am inclined to make hot chili with jalapeno peppers.

Something hot to warm me inside while I marvel at the outside.
Fairies enter my mind as I stare into the all-encompassing whiteness.
I want to settle down with a good book and snuggle into my blankets.
But I like my job so another state of mind pushes this one out.

I locate my mittens, boots, scarf, fluffy coat and a face mask.
a face mask helps me avoid pneumonia in winter.
I slather myself with heavy coverings, so I can scrape my car.
the wipers are frozen tightly to the windshield

Watch out for black ice, a warning from the radio station.
As I maneuver my car out of my driveway I stare at winter.
Her beauty is disarming, but I understand her chameleon treachery.
I will be gritting my teeth until I arrive at my destination.

Hard rain

Frozen windshield wipers -blurred vision

The Blue Ridge

Not lost, but merely seek,
knowledge and understanding.
Both of the natural world and
my mind’s space and time.

What insignificant thoughts will
push worries away,
occupying that space,
and consuming the time?

On these cloudy rainy days
the melancholy thoughts,
come playing  peacefully, like 
raindrops slowly falling.

The deer appear often at the edge
of the woods, testing things.
Full knowledge of watching eyes,
understanding no threat here.

The damp and green of summer
showers seem endless.
The hard rain satisfying the thirst
of both foliage and beast.

The young black bear scurries
across the road and into the lush,
vanishing into August’s green
and vast wet forest.

As the rain continues to fall,
the wipers moving back n forth,
out the window,
the birds bath and squirrels play.

The radio sings softly,
music from many years past,
no bad news of politics or wars,
rather lyrics for days like these.

From this rainy mountain top
peering down at the 
Shenandoah valley below,
the world seems at peace.
 
This road of life, so similar to
this winding mountain parkway,
which today I travel, 
content yet longing.

Raindrops

It was supposed to be different.
Today would have been,
Sunny, warm, dry.
But instead, rain drops.
Whooshing windshield wipers.
At home, my umbrella closes, and raindrops splatter.
Rainwater always seems more slippery-
Than even spilled juice on a cold, tile floor.
Rainwater is both too cold, and too hot.
It is made of raindrops, 
Which become puddles, 
Which becomes mud in my house,
Which makes me mad.
Thunder and lightning taunt me.
It laughs against the trees. 
Flooding the park.
That I almost got to enjoy.

The Kind of Rain

Today’s the kind of rain that causes
Rivers in the street
And when you cross, you’re bound to
Wet your toesies and your feet.

The puddles quickly turn to lakes,
Perhaps to raise a flood
And every garden’s sure to find
Its dirt bed turned to mud.

Windshield wipers can’t keep up;
Umbrellas funnel drips
And back at home, with sopping clothes,
Most everybody strips.

Today’s a day to cozy up,
If you’ve no pressing chores,
And remind yourself you’re lucky
That you get to stay indoors.

angel tears

cold wet teardrops fall 
windshield wipers swipe away 
Angels weep some more

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