Freeway Billboards: A Poetic Exploration of Silence, Motion, and Meaning

I – The Voice Before the Metal Horizon

I am
the word unsaid—
the breath caught
in the throat of your engine.
A question sputtered
between gears,
a whisper that melts
into asphalt dreams.

What would it say?
What could it?
A freeway is no shrine for truths,
but for bold lies,
for slogans
stamped in sky-stretching ink.

Would it preach?
Would it sell you mirrors?
Would it be quiet,
its blank face a rebellion against
the tyranny of meaning?

Or perhaps—
it would bleed the colors of your longing:
Yellow for roads untraveled.
Red for stops you never made.
Blue for the sky you forgot to look at.
And white—
for silence,
blinding and endless,
asking you nothing
but to feel.

Freeway – The River of Forgotten Names

You do not drive;
you are driven—
pushed forward by winds
that do not know your name,
by currents of exhaust
and fading brake lights.

The freeway swallows time
and spits out memories
in its rearview.
It is a Möbius strip of intentions—
a prayer
that begins and ends with motion.

What would it see if it saw you?
A pulse lost
in the symphony of tires?
A face,
blurred by speed,
slipping through the cracks
of its endless body?

You cannot stop on a freeway.
You cannot pause to read.
What use is a billboard
in a place where seconds matter more
than words?
And yet—
somewhere,
a driver squints,
not at the road,
but at the sign screaming
LOOK UP.

Billboard – The Canvas on Which Time is Painted

I am nothing
but metal and light,
a skeleton of wires
draped in ideas.
Your thoughts,
plastered over me,
crack like paint
on a neglected wall.

Would you dare
to make me simple?
Would you dare
to write what cannot be bought,
to ink your heart
on my indifferent face?

If I could speak,
I would ask you to listen:
to the hum of the tires below,
to the wind clawing at your windows,
to the silence between each beat
of your restless heart.

If you had me,
a billboard,
a god of fleeting attention,
what would you write?
Would you confess?
Would you scream?
Would you dream?

Perhaps—
you would leave me blank.
For isn’t blankness the loudest truth?
In a world choking on words,
I would stand silent.
A pause,
on a freeway
that knows only forward.

And maybe,
just maybe—
someone would finally stop
to see.

#PoetryOfMotion #FreewayDreams #BillboardTruths #UrbanPoetry #ModernPoetics #CreativeWriting #SymbolicJourney #CreativeVerse