#driving poems on Hello Poetry

Sam Anthony Jun 2017

Speeding is naughty
It's against the law
But everyone does it
So no-one is ashamed

Running red lights is the same
It is naughty too
And everyone knows it
So we all sit patiently

Then Mark said to Tom
"People are inconsistent.
"Why do they speed when
"They won't go past a red?"

Tom listened carefully
He agreed with the statement
So now he drives through red lights
And the universe is angry with him

#law #logic #driving #cars #naughtiness #good

Bec Jun 2017

Too Much, Not Enough

Long drives
replay long
conversations
that sit with me
through longer
nights.
But your stay
was so
short,
sometimes I'm
not even sure
you were real.

#sad #hurt #love #boy #talk #driving

Will May 2017

Passing Cows

The rain taps against my windshield as I drive through the countryside.
Landscape zooming past my eyes left and right. Driving let's me think about life's big questions.
As I pass a herd of cows lying in the grass I wonder; do cows have thoughts?
Probably not.
But then I question; do cows wonder?
Maybe so.
Is it possible cows wonder when that fence they stand near will fall?
Do they wonder if the wind will ever be so strong as to tip them over?
It seems odd to think about the cows in this way. After all they do not wonder about me as I drive past.
They just moo and stare at the blurry image of my speeding car.
Now I pass a field of horses.
Do horses wonder?

#cows #driving #car #questions #life

Will May 2017

Stream of Consciousness: Driving

The rain splashing against my car's windshield, as it is flung from another car's tire.
The whoosh of air across the roof.
That audible shift when driving surfaces change beneath the vehicle.
“Click Click Click”
The blinker chimes, as I wait to turn left.
As I turn, the steering wheel groans with the car’s leftward weight shift.
I yawn.
Traffic goes on.
I glance to the billboards littering the highway’s landscape.
One reads; “Does advertising work? Just did!”
Hardly.
A sharp honk heard from behind. I had been daydreaming again.
My hands rise up apologetically as I press my foot to the gas and drive on.
I miss her.
"Stop, not now." I mutter. "Drive on."
So I drove on.

#driving #thoughts #love #traffic

Zelda Apr 2017

365

Many stand on the side lines
Take the small steps and get left behind
Others seem to rush through life
They have every moment planned
But never take a moment to hit the pause
And see the beautiful unfolding of
Who they’ve come to be

With a new age, comes new page to wake up in
And I can only hope I get to wake up in yours
Till we’re 97, sitting on a park bench
Feeding the birds on a Monday morning
Complaining it’s too cold & we’re too cold
Saying all the little things we’ve said a million times
And all the things we didn’t say
Because we don’t have much time before we run out of pages
And you need to know all the little things I didn’t say
These 365 days

Like everything inside you
That you can’t see
I see

Like how I should know you by now
But I know nothing about you
Because you’re always changing
But that only makes you
That much more interesting

Because I cherish all these small moments
These 365 days with you

I’m sure there have been days you wish to erase
I only ask you never erase me from your life
Because I’m sure someday we’ll be fighting
Coming undone in a wildfire
But I have no doubt that
We’ll get home safely
Cause there’s always an exit on the highway
And if you can’t drive
I’ll drive us home

Because I don’t want to be
365 days without you

This poem is for a dear friend

#365 #days #friendship #love #driving #cars

V Anne Apr 2017

while driving

I understand
The overrated teenage urge
To scream out of a sunroof

While racing down an empty highway.

Sometimes your heart feels
So heavy
You wish you could take flight.

Release it all
With the wind.

#teenage #scream #fly #car #driving #highway #heart #heavy #sadness #depression #flight #wind

Beau Scorgie Apr 2017

A Poetic Last **** (pt. 1)

We threw a mattress
in the back of my car.
Some clothes.
Some food.

I packed eight books.
He packed a skateboard.

We drove along
the freeway
behind a car
the same as my mother's.

I thought about when she left
and all the tears I know she cried
driving away,
northward bound.

She drove for five days.
That's a lot of tears
and math
I can't do.

The driver had the same tanned skin
my mother has now,
and sun-bleached caramel hair
I imagine she would have too
had she not preferred
the taste of licorice.

I've been reading
the subtle art
of not giving a ****
and too many a-*****
I've given
about her leaving.

Let me record
the last **** given
in poetry
and move on.

So my love and I
drove on,
together.

We're best together.