Best Road(A) Poems
A profession that's not the norm.
It borders on the absurd.
In the mountains and down the hollers,
powerful engines could be heard.
I decided to try something new.
Put my driving skills to the test.
Driving from Harlan County to Asheville,
It didn't end well, you might have guessed.
The city fathers got together,
figuring how to make it all work.
Everyone involved in this illegal trade,
from the mayor to the town clerk.
The hillbillies brew the dew.
Most of it safe, some burns red.
Uncle Jessie tried it once.
His eyes rolled back and he dropped dead.
Billie Ray had a hot rod '50 Ford.
Was a race car, lost more than it won.
We popped the trunk, man it was huge.
Perfect for the nightly Asheville run.
In the trunk was a steel tank.
Loaded hooch made the car ride low.
Truck springs took care of the problem.
Now the truck no longer hauls cargo.
Beneath the rear bumper were nozzles.
A switch inside made the oil flow.
When a revenuer was chasing you,
in the rearview, was quite the show.
I always wanted to drive.
Thought this life would be exciting.
Told to keep away from this game.
It's dangerous hauling white lightning.
Blazing out of Harlan County.
At first, it went fairly smooth.
Problems I planned for didn't happen.
I got settled into a groove.
Bo Duke, he would've been proud,
when I jumped the gap at Cumberland.
Crossed the stream at Maynardville.
The engine died, it's not going as planned.
I finally got it restarted.
Pretended I was driving the Grand Prix.
Ahead, I saw the tail lights of the g-man.
Oh, snap! they're supposed to be chasing me!
I pulled off the exit for Knoxville.
Checked the map, found Kingston Pike.
I heard this in a song before.
Outside of Bearden, they were planning to strike.
Kept going in spite of the tune.
There they were, waiting to spring.
Blocking the road, no way to get by,
I lost control, spun into this big electrical thing.
The car quickly caught fire.
The door was jammed, options were few.
It was like an atom bomb going off,
when the flames caught the Mountain Dew.
The next night, my funeral was held.
Played a song about some bird in a tree.
The car lights, they stretched for miles.
This life I guess was not for me.
Just down the gravel road a piece is an old-time country store.
On its saggin' shelves are things you won't find much anymore.
Ladies in bright calico barter with Mr. Draper their eggs and butter,
As they visit neighbors on Saturday nights amid the piles of clutter!
Menfolk lounge on benches in front of the store to discuss the price of hogs,
Argue the merits of John Deere tractors and who has the finest huntin' dogs.
The kids were given fifty-cents and shooed off to the movin' pitcher show.
Later they'll meet at Bruce's Deli Shoppe for ice cream and cups o' joe!
Shoppin' carts or computers ain't used in the store owned by Mr. Draper.
He grabs things off the shelf and totes the bill on scraps of butcher's paper.
Snoozin' nigh the glowin' potbelly stove is Spooks, Mr. Draper's hound.
His inscrutable cat, Wilbur, sprawls upon a barrel of pickles a-sleepin' sound!
Ah, the variety of interestin' stuff available in his store is so replete.
Fels Naptha, Oxydol and Lifebuoy soaps as well as pickled pigs feet,
Wrigley's, Black Jack, Beamans and Clove chewin' gums are on the shelf,
Plus Clark, Power House and Walnetto candies to satisfy yourself!
Farmers keep his bins stocked with fresh roastin' ears and sweet potaters,
Rutabagas, green onions, rhubarb and luscious beefsteak tomaters.
If you can tolerate squeaky floors and Mr. Draper's old-fashioned ways,
Drop by and savor the nostalgic ambience of his store one of these days!
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Entry for Kelly Deschler's "Just Down The Road" Contest
Once again, we face a cross road
Filled with so many emotions we might just explode
Life seems to be a series of forks in the track
Never able to change our minds, or to turn back
Being chased down the path by time
Haunted by the ticking, by every chime
Time to choose, up or down, left or right
Fueled by our excitement, by our genuine fright
Make a choice, and hold on tight
Because this is it
You can't give up, you can't quit
Run down that dirt road but watch out
You'll face obstacles, challenges, and never-ending doubt
The only thing you can do is to run
Down that path, through every smile and every tear
Go on headstrong, face your ultimate fear
Eyes forward, looking to the horizon
Eyes forward, looking to the future
You walk a path
Only some will know
A stranger's hand
You learn to hold
A fight you face
But you're not alone
While you stumble down a broken road
You keep your head
Up to the sky
As though you see
For the first time
A blue that never caught your eye
Or morning grass that smells so sweet
Then staring at the evening sky
That leaves you with a breathless sigh
And wonder what is meant to be
Why walls are placed in front of me,
Am I here to learn or teach,
The hands I take
Or those that reach
With open arms
For strength and hope
While walking down the broken road
With faces , who all share their dreams
See colors some will never know
The bluest sky, a field of green
A simple bow, a ribbon of pink
Worn among the strong and weak
With courage ,grace and tears that flow
They leave behind the broken road
Kevin D. Fix
In city streets, where concrete's might
Reigns supreme, I wander, lost in night
A stranger in this urban maze and pain
Searching for a refuge from life's driving rain
The drivers' skills, a mystery to share
A riddle wrapped in chaos, with no one to care
They drive with passion's fire, yet senseless and blind
Their horns, a cacophony, that pierces the mind
A symphony of chaos, that echoes through the night
I search for solace, in the silence, a peaceful sight
The stars above, a twinkling sea
A reminder of the infinite's mystery
Oh, city of gold, where hearts are sold
And love's a distant, fading light, to grow old
I yearn for peace, for a refuge from the fray
A place to call my own, where love will find its way
So I write, to win the bread, and make ends meet
A means to sustain, to survive, and find my feet
The job applications, a never-ending test
The rejections, a familiar tune, that I've learned to rest
"We'll move forward, with another applicant," they say
A phrase, that's lost its sting, as I've weathered many a day
But still I hold on to hope, a glimmer of light
A trust, that God has something better, in store for my plight
Perhaps, I'm being refined, like silver in the fire
A temporary punishment, for my deeds, that will soon retire
For when God opens doors of blessings, no one can shut them tight
I'll walk through them, with gratitude, and a heart full of delight
So I'll keep on writing, through the noise, the chaos, the strife
For in the words, I find my strength, my voice, my life.