Best Hwy Poems
Dragon likes secrets but can’t keep them… UH UH! No way!
But he’s also, often confused by what he sees every single day.
Now he got interested in Area 51, and wanted a meet and greet…
Of aliens, so when he disappeared we sought him in the streets.
We checked out Hwy 51, mile marker 51, and the 51 mph speed limit sign.
I know it’s weird, but for us 51 mph is perfect, for giving speeding fines.
We checked with the Sheriff of Crazyland cause of the history they’ve had.
We were finally, really worried, and about to list him in a lost and found ad.
He told us of visiting with an alien, earlier, on a silver motorcycle, here about.
Silver jumpsuit, helmet, boots, and silver all the rest… so we put an APB out!
I was getting more than worried… As panicked, I was very quickly becoming!
Next time I’ll listen, when my little widdle Dragon starts his mouth a running!
Suddenly in the front yard, in the sky, came a flash of silver and green light!
And out popped The Green Lantern plus the Silver Surfer, in all their might!
From behind the Silver Surfer, Dragon leaped into my open and inviting arms.
Naturally with us both, landing flat upon the ground… stopping all my alarms.
The Silver Surfer had given Dragon a fun ride, but Dragon had gotten kinda lost!
He’d looked away, and Dragon being curious, had at that moment, wandered off.
Then Dragon was kidnapped by an alien gang, who wanted to sell him to a Zoo!
In Alpha Centauri! But his fire saved him, it became way too hot, when it blew!
Dragon was scared, as he learned not all alien’s are good, as he bowed his head.
Plus flying a space ship isn’t good, when fire blows all around, it has been said!
Thankfully, they’d needed an SOS, which had saved our little sweet Dragon guy.
Then the Silver Surfer & Green Lantern, brought our little one home, now wise!
Of course a naptime was in order, as we tucked him into his soft, safe bed, too.
But he now knew: Alien Super Heroes do exist, and that dreams can come true…
And to never go anywhere without, his family, with him, but we can now say…
For a Hero Dragon and his new friends, it was an Interstellar Great News Day!
Some bad guys learned that: Dragon Heroes are just too hot to handle! No cliché!
And Dragon was good… for the rest of the Day! Thank goodness! And Hooray!
Written 7-29-2016, This one is for my friend Steve….
Twas a little piece of heaven in a bigger spot of hell,
Nestled in the bosom of the Sierra Nevadas.
I wasn't sure just what planet I had just landed on,
An alien invader in a strange mountain fold.
Oh, they looked at us with those skeptical stares,
Knowing full well their way of life there was to end someday.
But they took us in anyway, finally seeing our flags were the same color,
And taught us the art of rock-flicking and tree-bending!
Miles and miles of tormented roads and depressed dwellings
Peppered the backs of the manzanita hills.
Pine pitch wafted in my nose in the sunshine,
And cool, sweet water in the faltering twilight.
Like fleeing snakes, the rivers and creeks charged down-hill,
A Pacific grave was the prize at the end of the run.
We found the Red Planet above Prussian Hill,
Waiting for us to be the last of the guard of an older way of life.
The only real laws out there were the laws of common courtesy,
Don't tread on me, and an eye for an eye.
Folks were as real and as painfully set as a re-broken bone,
High-falutin' ways were as real to them as Hollywood dreams.
The summer sun burned the devils out of your bones,
The winter chill froze the snow angels into your flesh.
Funny, I never heard the whistle of a train,
Where were the railroads?? Hell, where were the FLATS??
West Point was pointless, Wilseyville was full of wiles,
Independence sat in lonely forgottenness,
Glencoe, a plaque in the artery of Hwy. 26.
Mountain Ranch and Sheep Ranch sighed in amnesic slumber,
While Mokolumne Hill and San Andreas kept vigil to the gateways.
A part of my soul is still buried in the flesh of those fractured rises and draws,
A part of who I am... there's no shame, I feel, to admit it loud and proud.
So, to the new dwellers who've changed her lovely, rustic face
Into the image of what they deem beautiful and of value,
Don't forget there were lives lived out before you came,
And remember they cleared the way for you and your ways!
Resist the temptation to rush to change a land that never asked you,
And treat her with the respect of your fathers' graves and your childrens' futures.
I applaud you, my homeland...this Golden State!
From Coronado Island...to the Golden Gate
We live on the edge of a continent...
With masses of land that stretch out to the sea
One can lie on the beach...and drink in the breeze
Our glorious coastline, the Central Valley and more..
Mighty redwoods so tall, where the eagles can soar
Don't forget all the wonders of our National Parks
Lassen, Sequoia, Point Reyes on the shore...
Death Valley temps hit the highest marks!!...
But the best, by far...
Is Yosemite Valley, our glorious star!
Freeways and traffic.... (oh dear)....L. A. has smog!!
Travel magnificent Hwy 1, but you'll drive in the fog
In the far northern state you will find MY house!!
And way down south.............lives MICKEY MOUSE !!!! :)
For Rick's contest
I Applaud You !!
Driving down on Hwy.72 on my usual Sunday excursion,
the rain was pelting down in thin lines of curtains,
was listening to and enjoying my favorite radio station,
doing the 65 mph speed limit not wanting to get a citation,
Watching the road I spotted something out of the corner of my left eye,
but it was too late as I braked I heard and felt the loud sickening bump,
feeling my heart beat out of my chest going thump, thump, thump,
I pulled around to the side petrified but hoping you'd still be alive,
But looking at the horrid sight I already knew you hadn't survived,
with what if, could if, should of questions going through my anguished mind,
now every time I drive through that stretch of rural highway,
I think of that poor stray dog that I had hit on that particular Sunday.
11-27-16
I wrote this orphan poem to see if the infamous Australian musician Paul Kelley can torn it into a song. Many have tried and failed..
Toss a Coin
(c) London F. Buss
I left my smile on a train going
all the way to hell,
The fires gone out,
I'm covered in snow
And I'm getting cold.
I'm lost in lake city
growing old,
Along Hwy 299 beetles-kill, the cedar trees
That grow along the canyon walls.
Does she love me?
I just don't know,
My fate's a coin toss.
So I..Toss a coin
And disregard co-incedence.
Like Sisyphus in the snow.
I left my smile on a train going
all the way to hel
I'm covered in snow and it's getting cold
And I'm lost in Lake City growing old,
The Ice wall's stab at the snow
And blood is forming
On the badgers nose.
And my hearts still
broken and confused and
I still don't know,
if she loves me,
So I toss a coin?
And disregard co-incidence..
As the sunset's blood glows
on the badgers nose..
So I'm back on the train to Hell
Looking for my smile
That she once loved so well.
Now she is lost in Lake City
And Covered in snow,
Getting cold and growing old.
So Toss a Coin
And disregard co-incidence.
And she is lost in Lake City
Getting cold and growing old.
So Toss a Coin
And disregard co-incidence.
Now I'm still on that train looking for
my smile I lost, long ago,
going all the way to hell...
Warning: If you are bothered by road rage,
of if you have ever been a victim of road rage,
or if you and I are giving each other the finger
right now on Highway ZZZ, this poem may not be for you.
Okay, deep breath now.
Ready?
We got this!
Road rage.
Whose got it?
Who wants it?
Who are you, my little Pretty?
MUCK BOO! MUCK BOO!
Loud and mean and extra sassy.
MUCK BOO! MUCK BOO!
None of your business, sweet little grand-massy.
Okay, now all together now. Welcome to Hwy ZZZ.
Here comes the cars. The trucks and the SUV’s.
Some are texting, others are simply watching TV.
Excuse me, but where are you heading today, Mr. B?
MUCK BOO! MUCK BOO!
Loud and proud, and out of control.
MUCK BOO! MUCK BOO!
So glad I’m the famous little MUCK BOOing road rage mono-troll.
I can’t use my INSIDE VOICE or I CAN’T HEAR YOU, so MUCK BOO!
I wisely do not add, I can’t HEAR YOU…
Because I am laying on my horn,
Screaming, yelling, shrieking, and
Chasing down a black truck that
Made me mad a second ago.
A Chevy truck.
We give each other the middle finger.
MUCK BOO! I shriek.
Make sense it’s a CHEVY.
Chevy drivers are CRAZY.
Every time something weird happens or somebody
Tries to catch up with me when I’m doing 120 on the
MUCK BOO freeway, it’s a MUCKING CHEVY driver!
Was I up all night again?
Who wants to know?
Who are YOU to ask me?
I’m the MOM here.
And MUCK BOO because I am a lot better after two whole hours sleep!
Road rage.
When do we get it?
When does it kick in?
We all want to know. Here on Kentucky Bluegrass Channel XY10.
I had another 'Robbie' moment yesterday. One of my appointments was in Henagar to inspect the County Coroners truck that hit a deer. Well I couldn't find the address on my GPS so I called and he said go to the intersection of County road 52 and Hwy 71 and I'll see his truck parked at the gas station. Well I thought that was nice of him to meet me and I knew where that intersection was. So I pull up and he's standing out front and we walk over to his truck and I start taking my pictures. He's kinda of a quiet older man so I ask him how long he's worked as the County Coroner....he said five years. Well when I'm around a quiet person I become the talker and start rambling on how I couldn't do his job dealing with dead bodies, murders, crime scenes and especially dead children. He's just noddin his head saying yep and I suppose so. Well I finish taking my pictures, shook his hand and told him to have a nice day. He walked in the store and I got in my car to leave and read over my notes to make sure I didn't miss anything. I notice the inspection location on the assignment sheet said..."Owner works at Country Corner". I look up and yep...the sign at the gas station reads Country Corner. That's when it hit me..he wasn't the County Coroner but managed the Country Corner gas station. That old man musta thought I was nuts talking about dead bodies, blood and murders. I could see him nervously peeking through the window as I drove away.
Update: had to stop there and get gas a few months ago and wore dark sunglasses and a hat so he wouldn't recognize me.
As a significant day approaches, I thought about 49,
But before today, I never dwelt so much upon 49.
I never knew my soul was so permeated with 49.
World War 2 was over before the year '49;
But sadly, the Cold War was brewing in '49;
And Mr. Harry Truman was still President in '49
I was born in a small town in '49
That could be reached by hwy. 49.
Running North and South was hwy. '49,
And after 17 years, I departed by hwy. '49.
Some went South, but I went North on hwy. '49.
I tell you, the cost of living was far less in '49.
The average annual wages was $2,950 in '49.
Today's wages far exceeds those of '49
The average house cost $7,450 in '49.
A house today is so much more than '49.
This week, I paid $4.05 for a gallon of gas;
But a gallon of gas was .17 cent in '49.
When I started school, my dad was 49.
I graduated from college 49 years ago.
In 15 days, I will be married for 49 years.
My dear mother died when I was 49.
One of my siblings never lived to be 49
I will be 100 on my birthday in 2049.
If I thought more about it, ....
060221PS
hwy 93 glides up into
the misty grey
where billowing black
shifting clouds
shroud the moon
like pirate sails
wheels and metal
destined for what is
forever slipping away
yet drawing nigh
so gentle and so kind
stopping by the horizon
on a summer's eve
"because it could not stop for me" *
(if you read poetry)
sage hills roll on
long after I'm gone
From "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost
My wife and I have spent a good deal of our lives living between the city limit signs of one metropolis or another. As urban dwellers, we were constantly bombarded with the rumble of noises drifting in and out as life moves along. The older we got, the more we found ourselves longing for the quiet country life we remembered from our childhood days. So, when we decided to retire, we wanted to move to a more peaceful setting. We searched the world over and chose this small house in the southern Missouri Ozarks and settled in for a quiet country way of life.
The sounds of nature
Solitude and peace at last
Breathe in the freshness
We were greeted on our first morning of blissful country life by the neighbor’s rooster telling us that 4 hours of sleep is enough. He was quickly joined by a chorus of dogs (at least one for every house within a five-mile radius) declaring their desire to have the rooster over for breakfast. Then it was time for every muffler less vehicle in the county to rev up their engines in preparation for the parade down our country lane. The whistle from a train crossing Hwy 248 mixed with a mooing of a hundred head of cattle, a couple dozen crows, and a few hundred other species of birds rounded out the orchestra. But as I sit here in my rocking chair on the porch. I sip my coffee and watch the sun rise above the oaks and maples. I raise my cup and give a smile. Because I know I’m home.
no horns or sirens
nature creating rhythms
calming symphony
Burma-Shave
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I asked my Dad what he did, on his long drive to California,
as a kid. He tells me he read Burma-Shave Signs. Listening
to his recollection, leaning in - I had never heard this before.
He tells me they read like poetry. Six in a row, 100 feet apart,
at 35 miles per hour, the kids and adults, too, had 3 seconds
to read each one. The signs were red with white lettering.
Each poem would end with a punch line, like a limerick.
In 1925, journey for travelers was lightened up on Hwy 65
from Minneapolis to Albert Lee, whilst shaving cream was sold.
I can just see those eyes attentive, the smiles as they looked
and read out loud. From across time, I see my grandparents
in front, the homemade trailer, behind, and three preteens,
a toddler and baby, lumbering along in laid back days.
In my childhood, we read the signs that lead to the border,
between the Carolinas; we’d arrive at South of the Border.
are we there yet;
no need
for a screen
when a sign will do.