Best Rig Poems
He lost his job, now drives a rig.
The pros are small; the cons are big.
A sleeper cab is his abode
on tedious and lonesome road.
In Old West days, a steed he’d mount;
now yellow lines he cannot count.
A steady stream, long have they flowed
on tedious and lonesome road.
A ribbon flat, it sometimes winds,
descends or climbs until he finds
it’s all one constant episode
on tedious and lonesome road.
By some he’s loathed along the path.
For taking space, he’s shown their wrath.
Sparse traffic lessens not his load
on tedious and lonesome road.
He drives and while he drives, he yearns
for life’s return; his stomach churns.
He knows his hope but can erode
on tedious and lonesome road.
For the Solitude Contest of scott thirtyseven
(Some truck drivers have a very hard and lonely life and it's even worse
when they work for companies that couldn't care less about their welfare)
Categories:
rig, loneliness,
Form:
Kyrielle
All round the ring of Kerry’s highways, people point and cry
It’s 4 o’clock on the very dot and Mick’s rig is passing by,
It has glistening sheens of yellow, with cinnabar spots in red
Rich lozenges of orange complete the livery, as this butterfly forges ahead!
She’s kissing those dew damp breezes, on a morn like an Irish dream
As the sun’s rays like golden spokes
Steal silently; through oaks of emerald green.
lighting up a meadow’s buttercups, that border a hillside stream.
She hauls her load of butter, fresh from the herds of ‘Kerry’s spreads’
To sweeten the taste of a million slices, of European bread!
She’s making good time this morning in passing the various towns,
By 9 am she makes Letterkenny, to lay her cargo down.
Mick checks his trusty wristwatch
He needs to be back in Clonakilty; to make a special call
For by, begosh and begorrah ‘tis Father’s Day ‘n all. and
His sweet Molly will be waiting there, by an ancient rock built wall!
So he spins the painted lady round, to take the south west route,
Tooting to folks he recognises; as along that road he shoots.
At 1 o’clock he’s made it back, and parks the painted lady up
He wanders up the dusty track; just a Dad in working gear
Straightening an aching back, now his destination’s near
He searches the milling kids all around, many colours their faces show
And then he picks out his Molly. as those raven curls she throws!
She runs to greet him at his call, raising her face to be kissed
And she had chosen a painted lady, sure.. He felt how he had been missed!
He swings Molly up on high and they head back to the farm
She showers him with sweet butterfly kisses
As rabbles of the creatures unravel, in clouds and colours of charm!
NB the Painted Lady is an Irish species of Butterfly
Categories:
rig, beautiful, butterfly,
Form:
Rhyme
My Freeway Angel
Caught between two cars
There was no lane between them
Who guided my hand?
Steering crazily
back and forth between them both
It was harrowing
At another time
I was sideswiped by a rig
on that same freeway
My car went sideways
to the front of a man’s truck
I had no control
I was being pushed
as the trucker slowed his pace
in his middle lane
Before the truck stopped
I wondered is this the end?
I felt strangely calm
My car then emerged
faced against the traffic but
on the embankment
A few other times
my tires had big bad blowouts
I came out unscathed
I’ve stayed uninjured
through all my mishaps but not
so lucky - my cars!
Have I been lucky
or is a freeway angel
looking after me?
For the Senryu on Angels Poetry Contest of Marvin Celestial
True story written with senryu syllable count. I would like to think I have an
angel, but I can't really say for sure!
Contest Description: 1 original, poem on the theme of true encounters with Angels
Only Senryu form will be accepted with the title "Angel / Angels."
Categories:
rig, angel,
Form:
Senryu
My Dearest Lee…How we miss thee!
Please come back…here is our plea…
If you’d come back, we agree…
To eat cold Brussels sprouts and a pea
To swim across the Yellow sea
To take you on a shopping spree
To suck the stinger from a bee
To take you to Vail and let you ski
To shine your name on a marquee
To rig you kids’ spelling bee
To let you race in the Grand Prix
To arrange with the queen, afternoon tea
To kick Chris and Frank in the knee
To give up our glass of Chablis
To let you win every game of yahtzee
To run around naked, like a banshee
Lee, please come back and hear our plea
Then we will all be yellin’ “YIPPEE”
*Now Lee…we would never really kick Chris and Frank in the knee b/c we love them dearly but the rest is true :) We really miss your style of poetry…your message pieces…your unique way of telling a story. Please come back to us my dear.
By: Natalie The Rogue Rhymer :)
Categories:
rig, devotion,
Form:
Monorhyme
I remember how it felt to be
Roused from my cozy bed,
To be driven to our country school
In that big covered sled.
Daddy hitched it to his favorite team,
His powerful Prince and Teddy,
With drifts of snow where cars can't go,
That valiant pair was ready.
We had a little kerosene stove
And robes so thick and warm,
To keep us from our death of cold,
In those few miles from the farm.
There was no need to be worried,
Our dad could get us there,
Snug and safe in our big rig,
Pulled by that faithful pair.
It sits in a museum now,
That covered, winter sled,
Daddy and his team are gone
And most of its riders are dead.
Daddy is in Heaven where,
He battles snow no more.
Only a few remember now,
How it was in days of yore.
This one has not been posted here, before. It is snowing today and that brought back memories.
Categories:
rig, memory, winter,
Form:
Rhyme
Big Heart
He was the best man I ever met.
His word was his bond.
No neighbor went without,
no job, done poorly.
The best part, he could do anything.
Long before “super”, he was way past cool.
He could rig, and row and build and tow…
with the best.
A long life, a hard life, picking bags of fluff.
Peaches, strawberries, fruits that break backs.
Grapes of Wrath, and Sunday best…,
all rolled into a Ford truck.
His roots, our roots, deep, even when up-lifted.
Family, ties that bind and build the future.
Oklahoma…okay…
Texas…what a kick!
Arizona… home.
Building roads, trucks, good dogs
and big Cats!
Water, lakes, and fields.
A new life for all of us!
A good life for our family.
Years and years…
Tears and fears…
Cactus, flowers,
and learning about snakes.
Now… teaching grandkids
how to live… and count stars.
Categories:
rig, abortion, absence, abuse, addiction,
Form:
Free verse
In southern Colorado,
that old Rocky Mountain state,
beneath God's azure heavens
is a place called Turquoise Lake.
I'd been driving all around,
it was time to take some lunch.
The lake looked right for fishing,
at least that was my hunch.
After chow I got my gear
and headed for the shore.
I tied on a jitterbug,
who could ask for anything more.
Weedy cover on the left
set off a loud alarm,
but I was casting to the right
just to limber up my arm.
From behind an old man came,
he'd been watching for a while,
"Surface lures won't work out here,"
he mumbled with a smile.
"You know this is a trout lake,
they won't hit on surface lures,
so get yourself a fly rod
and you'll catch some fish for sure."
Now just as luck would have it
you know where the next cast goes,
it's just off of the weed bed,
how that water did explode.
A Rainbow Trout grabbed my lure
and started on a run.
I was fishing ultra-light,
it was really lots of fun.
The oldster stood in wonder,
said he never would have thought
that on a rig like I had
a Rainbow could be caught.
Reluctantly the trout gave up,
he came in without delay.
I gave him slack and he was gone
to fight another day.
Categories:
rig, fishing,
Form:
Rhyme
The air is fresh, mornings crisp and clear
God I do love this time of year
Vibrant colors abound on the trees
Gracefully falling with the breeze
The workday runs from sun to sun
Until the "Bringing in of the crops" is done
I am a lucky man to live this life
Respect of my community and loving wife
Sometimes in life the land yields plenty
The blessings throughout the day are many
As I watch the sunrise to the east
It gives my soul a spiritual feast
For all my friends everywhere
To my Lord a silent prayer
To the north her majesty appears
For all to see beautiful and clear
Forever snowcapped and standing tall
Lady Shasta watches over all
To the south another blessing to see
The Sutter Buttes clouded in mystery
It was the Lord that gave them their birth
The shortest mountain range on earth
The coastal mountains to the west
Offers the sun a place to rest
Followed shortly for all to see
The "Harvest Moon" clear as can be
Then comes a moment that is hard
As I head my "Cat" off to the yard
My final ride of this year
My face accepts a single tear
My heart becomes full of sorrow
I inject myself with poison tomorrow
Thats the price that a junkie must pay
Years after he has changed his way
The reason is very clear to see
I put myself "At risk" to hepatitis C
I can't stop the fear from flooding in
What will it be like to hold a rig again
Through all the loss and all the gain
I reckon that moment will bring me pain
But through the pain I'm able to see
God has his angels covering me
Categories:
rig, confusion, faith, health, life,
Form:
Couplet
I was bouncing along down in four-wheel low,
The road was rough and the goin’ was slow,
Now the puddle ahead didn’t seem too deep
Cuz I was ridin’ high, yep I was drivin’ a jeep.
But when I hit that mud now, I started to drift,
So I clutched it hard but I missed my shift.
I was stuck for sure, I couldn’t make it move.
I weren’t rigged for muddin’, I was stuck in a groove!
Well some good ol’ boys come a ramblin’ along
“We’ll get ya out, but It sure seems wrong.
Next time ya’ll get yourself stuck in a seep
You’ll need a wench on the front of yer jeep!”
Well I washed my rig, cuz I’d just got paid
And headed on in to the big parade.
When I got to town, I was feeling real good
So I picked up my gal and put her up on the hood.
When I turned the bend you should’a heard ‘em yell
Just to see my Rosie up there shakin’ her tail.
Them good ol’ boys were goin’ beep, beep, beep
Cuz I had a wench on the front of my jeep!
Categories:
rig, humorous,
Form:
Light Verse
I’m a limited edition, when all is said and done
Nothing special, only unique in a maze of humdrum
Kill spiders for a pastime, coz I hate their beady eyes
Watching me try to sleep, as they paralyse butterflies
I’m a limited edition, pulling cobwebs from beams
In great physical shape, yet mentally challenged it seems
Guilty of every known sin, with mitigation of course
They are all in my head, except when I use fatal force
I’m a limited edition, preprogrammed to survive
From one day to another, til next time I’m not revived
Still it’s great to be alive, from a dead man’s point of view
I certainly possess one, in a preserve this mind grew
I’m a limited edition, my pets couldn’t care less
Well possibly they do, but look up to me nonetheless
Take me as you find me on any given occasion
Whisper sweet nothings, I’m a sucker to soft persuasion
I’m a limited edition, light Cola makes me cringe
And hate drinking alcohol, unless going on a binge
Alas I cannot find god, he’s hidden away in reams
Leaving himself subjective, to idealistic extremes
I’m a limited edition, playing Russian roulette
Will even up the ante, fill the chamber, rig the bet
It’s a no brainer, literally speaking anyway
With just sawdust to lose, all so easy to blow away
By
David Kavanagh
Categories:
rig, confusion, i am, perspective,
Form:
Rhyme
In The Crypt of the night
I am the only one singing to your grace
To my emperor, I hear only your memoirs
Memoirs that are my complete screen publication
A present I like to identify my diagram of the globe
I am colliding like two pennies in a wishing rig
Do they hold my single accurate with of contentment?
Now I am bending on my knees, so saintly
Calling out your name, I don't hear a beat
But I hear a mind-reading bond of a kaleidoscope
To your grace of love
Categories:
rig, betrayal, bullying, depression,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Write a Lament is what they say So I’m going to tell you about the saddest day.
It was summertime with parades in the heat,
Daddy was humming as he climbed in the driver seat.
Mom said you shan’t wear those old coveralls,
Go change you funny man, but daddy wasn’t one to stall
Off they went my daddy and my son,
They had a parade to enter they were on the run.
In an old truck with four ponies aboard,
The cart hitch on as that was all he could afford.
They took the ride into the city
Grandpa joked with the boy, both rather smart and witty.
A time later I followed with the younger son,
It promised to be a day of family and fun.
Until I got close to the Destination,
I saw flashing lights And feel the weight of devastation.
I knew that boy I knew that truck
I jumped out and ran, into an ambulance my head did duck
Yes, it was my daddy who had collapsed and gone down.
While hitching up with horses in this busy town.
I knew that he was gone as I took his hand.
I heard the subs of a boy that now needed to be a man.
“Son can you get this rig on home?”
He was too young to do it alone. Nonetheless, his grandpa had taught him to be strong in the heat.
Because that day my son became a man as he climbed grandpas driver seat.
Categories:
rig, childhood, courage, death, devotion,
Form:
Prose
It starts with an unforgettable roaring sound,
Like nothing I'd heard before.
There's people and protection all around,
while my feet slide on the cold hard floor.
Armed with only one simple twig,
And two knives strapped to my feet.
I move forward like a ravenous rig,
Never slowing or missing a beat.
The wind plays music through my ears,
My heartbeat begins to race.
Losing mind of all my fears,
As my enemy becomes face to face.
There's only once chance for this to work,
So I focus in and take a shot.
As I can hear the enemy allies lurk,
I know I've given it all I got.
Suddenly the sound of a siren,
As I hear and become cocky.
There's no sound of hit iron,
Which is the best when scoring in hockey.
Categories:
rig, addiction, adventure, happy, hockey,
Form:
Rhyme
The beautiful arks flashes
While molting metal slashes
Diving deep into my flesh
I reach for a much needed breath
As poisonous fumes fill my lungs
A welders passion threw my veins it runs
So i reach down deep for i em a welder i will not retreat
I've gained my respect
Standpipe conductors wellheads 7018 i inject
Welding all day and under a full moon light
I send a prayer that lord gives me the might
Weeks months away from home
Hearing little voices only threw a phone
I promised to make a better life for y'all
I em a Texas rig welder I'm ready for any rig call
Categories:
rig, business, devotion, father, i
Form:
My butt is just so damn big
10 Irish men could do a jig
5 truckers could park their rig
16 Miners could plan a dig
9 drummers could perform a gig
2 Elephants could take a swig
22 college kids could do their trig
If only I’d eat less like a pig!
*For Susan's self exaggeration contest :)
Categories:
rig, slam,
Form:
Monorhyme