Best Cross Country Poems
waxed skis glide smoothly
tracks on fresh, crisp, moonlit snow
frozen woodland sounds
Title: Wind on our back
A camp counselor once, I thought I should glide
I ran fifteen miles, at the airport applied
A pilot took me up, above the Pocono grass
But I got airsick when the plane took a pass.
The pilot didn't want me throwing up in his plane
He dived to the ground, like an eagle gone insane
So I learned I can't soar, on the road I can glide.
Nothing wrong though with my having tried.
As a teen I ran track at Avebury High
Sometimes slow, rarely fast, I wouldn't want to lie
Then in college I hatched a different scheme
I wouldn't compete, just run with the team.
The coach sat us down, asked our time and event
Each kid's time incredible, I knew what that meant
I said "Skip me, please" ready to escape out the door
But their good natured laughter rose to a roar.
At the U of Delaware, I tried the same scheme
I didn't compete, just ran with the team
Came by in street clothes one day, but led the pack
Then the captain sprinted, a successful attack.
[chorus]
It was a healthy time, and my pace improved,
It was fun to go fast, and with grace I moved.
When you're in great shape the road ahead seems free,
Like running with the wind, like sailing on the sea.
I had short encounters on roads and trails
Other runners, unassuming, but tough as nails
I caught up with a Marine, matched his stride,
"I love hills!" he said, a matter of pride.
On a back road ran a woman, a running blonde blaze
I caught up, but there was steel in her gaze
"Don't bother", she said, "I've run men into the ground"
I had a brief vision of scattered bodies around.
She was swift, and no doubt those guys lost face
But she had thrown the gauntlet, I had to keep pace.
Two runs I remember, they were so nice
One Delaware winter, trees sparkling with ice,
And with Westchester Roadrunners in fields of lush green
Don't know how I kept up, but magic in the scene.
[outro]
That was 40 years ago, but when night descends,
I think back to running with two teams of new friends
At Manhattan, then Delaware, both let me come
Wherever they are now, long may they run.
And may the wind be always at their back
On life's winding path, or off the main track.
**A Travel East**
We pass the Grand Mesa cruising like lightening at 95mph,
I feel like a passenger on a toy train.
A mountain 11,000 feet above the ground,
auburn colored, rock faced cliffs, complimented
by a spectacular baby blue sky.
Clouds scatter, trying unsuccessfully to cover
the rapid sunrise.
Blue,
Indian orange,
and red mix together well
with the beauty of the cliff face.
Along the base,
the Colorado river
races.
Not quite a rapid,
yet swift enough to scare rafters,
and small animals.
Miniature icebergs travel through a small channel
created in the ice of the once wide river.
A family of coyotes gather on a patch of solid ice.
The young playfully roam,
while the adults relax, lick themselves and watch.
Deer prance across the terrain,
chasing the train.
Detained,
inside a fence,
cattle graze in a group of one hundred or so.
A cottage rests along the perimeter
where children play.
Bundled from head to toe,
Snow,
thick and heavy.
Frosty is created!!
Homeward bound!!
The ride semi-pleasant,
better than the first.
The lavatory still with that distinctive
musky urine scent.
The passenger car seems bigger this time,
more spacious.
Room for my long legs,
and wide enough to accommodate my beer gut.
I hear the rantings of an old married couple
as they bicker about what time dinner should be reserved for.
Beside me,
laying awkwardly,
an old man snores.
Shallow breaths in between,
I can hear his heartbeat.
Pounding like
a heavy percussion solo,
his feet propped on his duffel bag below.
The lobby car when first entered
looked barren.
A few passengers sit with books and laptops,
others watch as the fast moving terrain passes
through the tinted double glass.
My cell phone lost battery life and I
needed the accommodation of electricity.
Occupied,
I wait for my turn.
From my peripheral I saw her,
I could sense her aura.
Smell her aroma of Vanilla Musk.
Dirty blond hair with red highlights,
short but not to short,
with a friendly disposition.
So,
I sparked a conversation,
that helped better this expedition.
Jared Pickett
3/7/08
Asavvy1
I called you to say
Hello
and you called out ...
Hello ... Hello?
hanging up on my silence.
What game is this I play?
I came to you to hold me.
Cross-country affair
doesn't seem now
what was there then
within your silence.
Goodbye, goodbye
to Tallulah, Louisiana
naked poverty stark.
Goodbye, goodbye
to the meteorite crater
ever always opened in
desert silence.
Is it wrong for me to want you
when in the end you are not mine,
always to another bound
on lifes' road?
Is it wrong for me to hold you
in my thoughts each day
when in other arms you lie,
and as I do not wait
lying in arms to dread
in silence.
I will not love you
if love may yet remain
between you two
while I am yet one
listening forever to
road calls.
Hello ... hello?
Miles and miles of open country pass as the train moves.
A sudden thrust, jolt then nothing. The earth stands still.
Wind circulates pushing branches, leaves dance with the melody..
We sit..
Or movement halted by a slow moving freight,
we do an unheard of twenty five miles per hour.
I need a shower, shave, clean clothes.
A bathroom stench overwhelmingly horrific,
waste scented essence in the air,
mixed with the body odor of many
who share.
On the toilet seat,
look,
a pubic hair..
Finally, we slowly begin to move.
A conductor walks past checking destinations screaming:
"Next stop Chicago."
Passengers gather their belongings furious for the twelve hour delay.
Glossy eyes, scowls, a common look amongst the strangers.
Again, the train stops, deep breaths and a few colorful phrases
spout from a dozen or so.
A group of five sit and curse the situation,
hoping for a new permutation.
Hunger, fatigue, and back spasms corrupt my mood.
I am in need of food.
Sleep is not something that my body has seen.
The ride so far not peaceful, nor serene.
The delay has caused my lay-over to cease
causing me to jump trains hungry.
Where the meals range between $8.50-$15.00 a piece.
As I run to my next long acting bedroom on rails,
I smell food in the distance, hamburgers, fries, and chicken.
Oh, how this experience has sickened me.
........:JP)
me and you on a poor man's cross country trip
we never run out of gas
we never eat all the snacks
we do not need any ice for the cooler
we don't even need to get any drinks
all we are doing is looking at houses in other parts of this "small", rural city
our mouths are still like "smuahhhhh!"
our faces still have looks of surprise
we might as well be on "house hunters" as many times as we say "OH WOWWWW!"
we know good and well we cannot afford half the houses that we see
however, we speak in feeble british accents and pretend like we can
"UM, YES, OLE CHAP, OUR BUDGET IS A HUNDRED BILLION POUNDS!"
"HOW ABOUT WE TALK ABOUT IT OLL OVER A SPOT OF TEA?"
yeah....in our dreams, but in reality, we are having fun and enjoying each other's company
it is like....we are on vacation....GO FIGURE!!!!!
I-95, I-80, I-78 or Route 1
Destined schedule with luggage
The journey
The start
The Distance
Long haul ride
Recline and Relax
Rest stops
Destined Towns and Major Cities
High Mountains
The uphill and downhill range
Highways to off ramps
Panoramic scenery
Towns people wave
Feeling of welcome
America’s history reflecting back
4 Days in Hours, Minutes and Seconds
Life thought of reckon
Observe and admire
Sunrise to sundown
The journey on until
Arrival to Destined finale
The educate and Learn
Hounding the Greyhound bus gateway
The ride a getaway.
Today’s thought
Tomorrow’s venture
Bags packed
Wheels ready to spin
A Greyhound bus open road ready to begin
The journey through state to state
Stopping at towns being no mistake
Four days travel
Freeway wind
Various interstate routes
Distance far
Bus comfort than a car
Recline and relax
America’s acquaintance
Passerby wave
High Mountains up look
Heart of hope
The sense of cope
A friendly hand
Goodness in the land
Major cities after major cities observe
Into the morning, Night and next days
Soon to arrive
Refreshing sights that only the Greyhound Bus can provide
America’s beauty seen through the eyes
The skies being wise
Wonders never seen
Up close and personal
Travel to remember
Heart and Soul amber.
When short and running a cross country race
The short guys know when to pick up the pace
Just as we start up the hills
For we know they’ll be some spills
Odds say the tall men may fall on their face