Best Hitching Poems
a higher purpose
celestial highway thumbed
eternity in focus
Going deep into the valley as the last rays fade
in the big clearing there waiting for me is Snowflake
now he is a Unicorn that kindly takes me on journeys
to wondrous far off mystical realms that astound
Climbing onto his back we set off at speed of light
soaring high we circled the moon saying how do you do
to the blue cheese man who doffs his hat and bows
then sends beams of bright rays to lighten our path
Then racing a shooting star leaving it far behind
onward to Saturn where we dance through its rings
leaving the best to last we fly on to the lady herself
Venus the enchantress, the planet of love that enthrals
Filled to the brim with the sights and the wonder
we drift down to land hugging Snowflake who wickers
then flies off into the dawn fast becoming a disappearing dot
leaving me to wander homeward drinking in creations miracles
written 04/04/2014
contest Today's poem
A tiny caterpillar clung
To the mirror on our car,
Perhaps to hitch a ride, not knowing
We were going far.
I didn’t notice he was there
‘Til we were on the road
And wondered if he’d make it
All the way to our abode.
I thought he’d hate the city,
Though, of course, there is some grass.
My worrying was wasted
For it never came to pass.
A half an hour later,
All the wind became too much.
Despite a valiant effort,
All his little feet lost touch.
I watched him blow away
Into a highway of cement,
His final day on earth, at least
That much was evident.
Drinks fridge murmurs accusations at me
Seals connect with whoosh of door close
Defuses incriminating strip of lights lairy
Where I go from this station, God knows!
Lady taking my coins sneers, fat old wench
Bottled coffee shaking, I scope the scene
Funny country fuel stop, platform with bench
Five feet above bowsers, no other beings
Infusing creamy caffeine flows frozen veins
Squinting, suddenly morning haze is scared
Flung away by fireball promising burn's pain
Screech of rest room door makes me aware
Swaggered jean jostling cowboy, crotch itch
Rips sunstruck silver jangle of keys unfurled
His calloused hands fondle freedom tickets
Flanellette shirt, dog fur dull unkempt curls
Moment slipping, I extend my leg, stretched
Sandshoe foot dangled bare ankled amber
His attentive sway, reaction I needed to get
Casual smile exchange shows easy candour
Disappeared Adam's apple displays his nerves
Flipped flaxen cascades accompany my laughs
I appear the type of slender he doesn't deserve
Ask mystery man where his bloody car's parked
Bow legged, he saunteringly walks me across
Feet scuff on rough bitumen arrest birds
Chrome, maroon forty year old ute's new gloss
Brings his chest thrust pride, without words
Thick doors reassuringly clunk open, vynyl
Glides my compact package, legs swung in
Sun warmed cabin smells of 70's revival
Decomposing foam, dashboard shrinking
Glances to get my approval of rev shudder
I grin, grab the arm rest in readiness
Rear wheels kick dust, bold engine thunders
Gravel edges send intended impediment
Thrumming along open road, windows down
Throw my medusas in mad frenzy, big relief
Inserts itself, I need to get out of this town
Need him to take me there, encounter brief
10th September 2020
Shocked out of my slumber, again.
Those visions once inviting drift
into murky terrain where my footing
slides from my solid path, each
step saps me of vitality without hope.
Left out in the cold, again.
Thumbs ripe like cherries, dipping
into the sweet air of possibility.
The frigid nature of my quest
halts the blood in my indigo vein.
Just along for the ride, again.
Packed like cargo into your life.
A cumbersome package for you,
no doubt, since I have no clues
left to divine where I fit anymore.
Pains rumble in my gut, again.
The warmth of your hearth
no longer beckons me onward
to share a morsel of nourishment
or a sinful concoction full of delight.
Doubt haunts my persona, again.
Images of distrust quake my eyes
as I witness your plot unfold
with self the only person that
you choose to embrace without fear.
Cried myself to sleep, again.
No point in wiping them dry
since the flow of my agony
will gush like the purest fount
of human suffering ever to shame.