I consider myself one of a very small handful of drivers in the world that are top drivers. The best one? I don't think anybody can say they're the best one because, from one week to the next, you can be on form or off form a little bit.
quote by Nigel Mansell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
I Hate Women Drivers!
I hate women drivers!
Why, can they not park?
Near the kerb?
Not anywhere
With no regards!
I hate women drivers!
Especially in the dark
They put on their blinkers
Because, they can not see.
The problem, is neither can we!
I hate women drivers!
How they love to drive fast
Only for school runs
Then they cruise all day long
I hate women drivers!
Do they believe?
That the traffic lights are stops
To make phone calls
For their daily needs
I hate women drivers!
Can they see there are lines in the road?
They signify lanes
You should only drive in one
Not in all 3!
I hate women drivers!
They stop at zebra crossings
Because they feel this is the time
To speak to their friends and catch up
What feels like an hour long!
I hate women drivers
Oh, I wish men
Will stop shouting
THIS AT ME!
poem by Sarwah OseiTutu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Street Signs
Street signs were invented
I believe
to confuse drivers
of which way to go.
When they were originally put up
they pointed in the right direction,
then some jolly jokers
turned them all around
when no one was looking
so they could have a laugh
at us drivers
driving around and around
in ever decreasing circles.
10 May 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My dad was very successful running midgets in Texas. Then, his two drivers ran into some bad luck. People started saying that Daddy had lost his touch. That it was the cars and not the drivers. I wanted to race just to prove all those people wrong.
Small Frogs Killed On The Highway
Still,
I would leap too
Into the light,
If I had the chance.
It is everything, the wet green stalk of the field
On the other side of the road.
They crouch there, too, faltering in terror
And take strange wing. Many
Of the dead never moved, but many
Of the dead are alive forever in the split second
Auto headlights more sudden
Than their drivers know.
The drivers burrow backward into dank pools
Where nothing begets
Nothing.
Across the road, tadpoles are dancing
On the quarter thumbnail
Of the moon. They can't see,
Not yet.
Anonymous submission.
poem by James Arlington Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Small businesses are the economic drivers of our country, providing the stimulus our communities need.
quote by Melissa Bean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Writings On The Wall
Half the boy and nothing else
Put me in the drivers seat
I wanna make promises I cant keep
Half the boy and nothing else
You were once my sole desire
You couldve built me up, but you made me lie to you
You never took me serious
And my heart betrayed my every word
Now loves not only for the curious
You said the writings on the wall
Well, I should know cause I wrote it all
Half the boy and nothing else
Put me in that drivers seat
I wanna make promises I cant keep
Half the boy and nothing else
I wish that I could land in jail
I wish that you could set my bail for me
You always took me serious
And my heart conveyed my every word
Now love is only for the curious
I said the writings on the wall
But you should know cause you wrote it all
Half the boy and nothing else
Put me in the drivers seat
I wanna make promises I cant keep
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The War
There is a sound of thunder afar,
Storm in the south that darkens the day,
Storm of battle and thunder of war,
Well, if it do not roll our way.
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Be not deaf to the sound that warns!
Be not gull'd by a despot's plea!
Are figs of thistles or grapes of thorns?
How should a despot set men free?
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Let your Reforms for a moment go,
Look to your butts and make good aims.
Better a rotten borough or so,
Than a rotten fleet or a city of flames!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Form, be ready to do or die!
Form in freedom's name and the Queen's!
True, that we have a faithful ally,
But only the devil knows what he means!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In 1982 when I showed up, the average age of the drivers in the series was something like 40, 41. The crowds were small. There was not much prize money. The competition wasn't very tight.
quote by Bobby Rahal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Police in Washington D.C. are now using cameras to catch drivers who go through red lights. Many congressmen this week opposed the use of the red light cameras incorrectly assuming they were being used for surveillance at local brothels.
quote by Dennis Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Sparrow's Thoughts.... (Number Six)
you can send the lie in the form
of the unemployment check, in the
form of food stamps, in the form
of Medicaid, in the form of new
policies, in the form of charity...
but the truth is you dont give a damn
until you are willing to share all
you have with fairness, until you're
willing to put your shoulders to the
load, until you're willing to get
involved in the work of equality!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: A Weird Workplace
The carriage looks so fabulous indeed:
And drawn by steeds and horses, superbly
On roads in tough terrain with rather greed;
They do it sub-consciously but ably!
The passengers are from far-off places,
And some are picked from road-side on the way;
A few wear masks of poverty on faces;
Only a few are truly made to pay.
The drivers change too frequently at times;
Some do not know the horses, roads at all;
They sleep both day and night in changing climes;
They do not care if horses stop or fall.
The carriage has to be repaired often;
The hearts of drivers will never soften!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-28-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dont Drive Drunk
He and his wife have had problems
That hes played off like nothings wrong
til he comes home from work early
Just to find the girl is gone
Oh but he gets into the cupboard
Picks out that bottle of gin
Drinks like theres no tomorrow
And decides to take a spin
No dont drive drunk
Dont drive drunk, no
Dont drive drunk
Mothers against drunk drivers are mad
Teenager at a live party
Says, give me one for the road
But hes already so inebriated
If you lit a smoke hed explode
But bartender says, I dont think so
Young one says, I can deal
Staggering out he says, check you all later
But I really dont think he will
No dont drive drunk
Dont drive drunk, no
Dont drive drunk
Mothers against drunk drivers are mad
(repeat)
(background)
Dont drive drunk
D-d-d dont drive drunk
Dont drive drunk
Hicup
(repeat)
Boy out with girl on their first date
Gets pulled over by the law
Officer says, hey cant you drive straight
Or have you been drinking alcohol?
Boy says, man are you crazy?
Cop says, hey then walk this line
But results from the breathalizer
Proves hes charged with d.u.i.
No dont drive drunk
Dont drive drunk, no
Dont drive drunk
Mothers against drunk drivers are mad
(repeat)
(background)
Dont drive drunk
D-d-d dont drive drunk
Dont drive drunk
Hicup
(repeat)
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ordeal By Cab Driver
Gloria Susindra frustrated said
“Indian cab drivers in melbourne
are effing idiots. Ungrateful
low lives who should be thankful
they have a job to do instead
of always cheating the fare n
taking the wrong way. Seriously idiots.”
How many times
bule (expatriates)
in Jakarta Indonesia
suffer a similar fate?
Let us not
count the times.
Let us be grateful
for all honest
cab drivers.
“Yes. I love it
when theyre nice n
leave a tip but
usually oh my goodness...”
Yes I also enjoy
leaving a happy tip
gratefully when not
taken for the wrong ride.
Dedicated to, inspired by, and quoted comments by Gloria Susindra.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Driving To Work (Revised)
Took a scenic route to look at jacarandas
in bloom - sadly their purple was stripped
by last night's rain, stuck behind a slow-
moving police van, no chance to play Grand
Prix again
Next time I'll keep to the highway, people
claim they see deer and giraffes in the
sanctuary next to the road, I would love
to see any but am always racing - it'd be
so such fun
Currently I have to watch other cars with
a hawk's eye after a crash yesterday, two
drivers not looking at a roundabout went
for the same spot, now I glare at drivers
with laser eyes
To make sure they are clear before I drive
off; I love my little Suzuki too much to take
any unwarranted risks' - speeding only on a
straight stretch of road is allowed in my
history book
Pretoria 17 October 2012
poem by Margaret Alice Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I wonder what a bus ticket buys
The driver fights with a passenger
that she thinks sleeps at times
on the top level of the bus
and something must be wrong
in her life
as she climbs into a child
because he did not take a school bus
I wonder what
a bus ticket buys,
but it stays far better
to take a bus
than to have to walk a long distance.
I wonder
if it takes a special person
to drive a bus,
or what rights it gives
above that of other people
if you climb behind the steering
of a bus?
Somebody asks the white
bus driver lady
for what she is looking
this morning and suddenly
she’s silent
and I can ride in peace further
while she swallows her tongue.
Bus drivers that are rude
I have experience a lot of times
and it has happened
that one stares hateful
at me
because I am white
and wanted to cut
every ticket of the coupon.
Still I am thankful
to use a bus
when I need one
and that some drivers
makes it a pleasure
to drive with them.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One of the aspects of form that I have been very interested in is stasis - the concept of form which is not so directional in time, not so much climactic form, but rather form which allows time, to stand still.
quote by La Monte Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steam Engine
Lead vocal: micky dolenz
Produced by: chip douglas
Mr. engineer, slow the engine down some more.
Youre movin just a little too fast,
Ive got my foot down clear to the floor.
Steam engine, engine 99
Steam drivers, rollin right on by.
Mr. engineer, you see Ive got a little problem here.
My baby, shes aboard your train,
She says shes never comin back again.
Steam engine, engine 99
Steam drivers, rollin right on by.
She told me good bye, she said Im leavin you behind.
I think Im gonna die, if I hear that whistle whine.
Mr. engineer, slow the engine down some more.
Youre movin movin just a little too fast,
Ive got my foot down clear to the floor.
Steam engine, engine 99
Steam drivers, rollin right on by.
(steam engines)gotta keep on keep on rollin.
(steam engines)shes gonna leave me behind.
(steam engines)i might as well go home.
(steam engines)shes gonna leave me behind.
(steam engines)i might as well go home.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forms (A Serious Side)
Just think of all the paper
that is used to create a form.
Think of all the trees
that have to be cut down,
And all the rainforests
that disappear, each year.
So when you get another form to fill in.
Just remind the sender
of all the wildlife they destroy
and ask when they are planting more trees.
Because this form has taken
just one too many trees
from our wonderful world.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The rudimentary forms
Rivalry is the rudimentary
Form of enmity.
Solidarity is the rudimentary
Form of fear.
Sports and games are the rudimentary
Form of fight
Friendship across sex is the rudimentary
Form of sexual love
04.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The White Lady of Balete Drive
In my country there's a frightening story
Called the white lady of Balete Drive
And though the witnesses there have been many
The story is a legend that's still alive.
They say there was a beautiful young lady
Who went riding a taxi quite late
Alone in that taxi and the driver took a fancy
She met rape and murder as her fate.
Although there was no proof of a body
And the mystery had for years eluded ending,
The street Balete Drive became eerie
For a white lady there was appearing.
Some say she would flag down a taxi and ride
Through the same route, the drivers say.
But from the rearview mirror, there's no one inside
And the drivers, in horror, would run away.
Those who now ply this Balete Drive
Will speed through the street at night
They will not stop, for the dead or alive
And certainly not for that lady in white!
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello (17 February 2010)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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