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Poems On / About CAR  7/27/2016 6:32:02 AM
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Best Poems About / On CAR
 
 
 
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  237.     

Shimmering Heat Wave

It is a hot day with a hot north-easterly
wind blowing along the highway. The
sun bounces off cars windscreens
giving a look as if the cars have their
headlights on. Hundreds and hundreds of
cars during daylight having their high beams
on with their shiny lights. The sun's reflecting
light bouncing off bubble cars through
shimmering heatwaves virtually blinding the
driver. In hell's kitchen thousands of lights
dance the shimmering heat waves.
There is no mercy given to the driver in
the heat haze and the bouncing suns.
Everything twists in the shimmering
heatwaves where reality bends the mind
and distorts thoughts.©

7/10/2012
 
Jerry Behr Number 2

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  238.     

What's A Trunk?

Ali and Fred had trouble with their car...it was something ornamental
But it was in the shop so long the manager offered them a rental.

It was a brand new four door sedan...but a problem was soon revealed
When they told Ava it was time for practice at the nearby baseball field.

Ava stopped outside the rental car and said innocently, off the cuff
“Dad there’s no room in this car for all my baseball stuff.”

Fred quickly took her to the back and opened up the trunk
“See Ava, ” he said, “there’s plenty of room for your baseball stuff and lots of other junk.”

Ava’s mouth hung open and she let out a mild roar
As she was seeing something she’d never seen before.

“It’s called a trunk! ” Ava told Aden with a big smile...wide eyed
Then she and Aden climbed on up and got to play inside.

Was it possible while growing up, (was she living with the monks!)
That Ava never experienced a car that came with it’s own trunk?

But it’s true in looking at her life so far all this poor girl ever sees
Is a world that’s filled with mini-vans, hatchbacks and SUV’s.

It goes to show the world changes subtly...changes direction...changes hue
And then before we know it...it’s not the same world we once knew...

One day when Ava’s ready before too much more time goes
I’ll explain to her about fuzzy dice and 8 track stereos.
 
Jim Yerman

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  239.     

Act 2 Scene 4

Act 2 (Wearing all your sadness as a fashion)
Scene 4 (driving by starlight)

(the LOVER is in the CAR sitting at a scenic overlook. the LOVER is writing in a notebook reading aloud.)

the LOVER: On a night like tonight my memory's begging for silence and a long dark drive. Down back roads for miles and miles, keeping the radio quiet. Driving with no headlights.

(the GHOST enters the CAR and starts laughing. the LOVER is started and continues writing)

the LOVER: The passenger sear is laughing at me, still holding the shape of your memory. Why don't the stars collide? It seems to me the sky is over crowded and my wishes can't decide which white faded point of light holds answes. In this night my thoughts are clouded but my eyes still shine so bright.

(the LOVER turns to a clear page)

the LOVER: On a night like tonght, I can't help but feel I'm the reason for ny price I'll pay.

the GHOST: The cost of lies is rising tonight.

the LOVER: But I guess it's about time for the coming and going of seasons.

the GHOST: Nothing gold can stay.

the LOVER: This time I'll drive for miles and I'll forget.

(the GHOST starts laughing again)

the LOVER: If i could I'd turn the car around, but the raod's to narrow and I'm to proud.

(the LOVER puts away the notebook and starts the CAR. the GHOST fades and the LOVER starts driving home)
 
brianna arnott

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  240.     

Edsel Poet

Ford Motor Company asked Marianne Moore
to think up names for their brand new cars.
Agreeing to be automobile whore,
she couldn’t give them branded jaguars,
already taken, but Ford Fabergé,
Astranaut, Utopian Turtletop,
were names that she proposed to them, but they
declined as names for which no one would shop.
Of course the names reminding us of bed sell
best, and she, it seems, was too straitlaced:
the name they chose instead of hers’ was Edsel.
A poet’s mind’s a dreadful thing to waste!

Danny Heitman, a columnist for The Baton Rouge Advocate and the author of “A Summer of Birds: John James Audubon at Oakley House, ” writes about Marianne Moore’s attempt to help the Ford Motor Company sell cars by finding names for them (“Poetry in Motion, ” NYT, August 16,2009) :
IT seems that we’ve done just about everything to get the American auto industry out of the doldrums. We’ve forced bankruptcies. We’ve exchanged cash for clunkers. But have we tried poetry? The question is brought to mind by the story of Marianne Moore, the famous American writer, who served for a brief season as the Ford Motor Company’s unofficial poet laureate. Moore, who died in 1972, was at the height of her literary powers in the autumn of 1955, when a letter arrived in her Brooklyn mailbox.A Ford executive wrote that the company was launching “a rather important new series of cars, ” but his team was stumped to think of a name for the latest product line. Could Moore, an icon of American letters, help them out?
Moore embraced the assignment with relish, not surprising for a poet who enjoyed — and whose writing was frequently inspired by — popular culture, whether it be baseball, boxing or bric-a-brac. The correspondence became a cultural fixture of its own after it was published in The New Yorker two years later. Throughout the fall and winter of 1955, Moore’s steady stream of suggestions arrived at Ford: “the Ford Silver Sword, ” “Intelligent Bullet, ” “the Ford Fabergé, ” “Mongoose Civique, ” “Anticipator, ” “Pastelogram, ” “Astranaut” and, the highest flight of fancy, “Utopian Turtletop.”
Moore apparently had no qualms about enlisting her muse in the service of the automotive industry. She was also willing to embrace the risks of the marketplace, agreeing to be paid only if she came up with a winning name. As Moore’s biographer Charles Molesworth points out, she “had always enjoyed the language of advertisement, delighting in its inventiveness and ebullience, and even relating it to the poetics of praise.”
These days, poetry and commerce are rarely on such good speaking terms. Poetry doesn’t sell well, and poets almost never attain the celebrity that touched Moore, Robert Frost and Carl Sandburg half a century ago. If some Detroit executive got the bright idea to consult a poet for marketing advice today, one rather doubts he’d know whom to call.It’s nice to think that the two groups — poets and carmakers — might find new relevance through collaboration, but history is not encouraging. After much thought, Ford Motors politely rejected all of Moore’s lyrical suggestions for its new car line. Instead, the company’s executives opted for a choice generated internally: the Edsel.

8/16/09
 
gershon hepner

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