Best Truck Poems
The old truck hadn't been used in a while,
But it should be good for a few more miles.
Under the hood, the engine was rusty,
And the interior smelled faintly musty.
Assuming it would start--we all wanted to know...
When we put it in gear, would it actually go?
Someone called,"All the tires are flat".
But a little new air would take care of that.
Better get some fuel, since the gauge is on "E".
Wash the windshield, so the driver can see.
No problem to let it coast downhill to the mechanic's shop;
Next question:Are the brakes good enough to make it stop?
The truck was so bad, it had no heater fan.
But the Master Mechanic had a Master plan!
He took it to His shop for the needed repairs.
'Twas quite a long time that He kept it there.
He tinkered, and cut, and removed lots of stuff
Solving problems we had thought were real tough.
He put in new hoses, gaskets, and such.
What a joy to watch His skillful touch,
As He cut away the old to make room for the new.
Finally the day arrived when he was all through.
A great crowd gathered around the shop door,
To behold the new creation, there on the floor!
It was washed up, and pumped up,and all the fluids were filled.
Even the body He had been forced to rebuild.
Fresh paint;new tires;and the engine a'humming.
It was ready to face the world oncoming!
When flaws seem difficult to be fixed by man.
Stand back, and watch the touch of the Master's Hand.
Charlie Pelota
He begs me to come, but he's run out of luck
You won't catch me dead in that beat-up old truck!
It was painted blue...now the color is rust
But you can't be too sure...since it's covered in dust!...
The engine must idle, (about an hour is good)
You can feel the vibration, around the whole neighborhood
A life is at risk, if you go for a ride!
The windshield is broken, and leaks rain inside
It makes a weird noise, rides bumpy and rough
The dashboard is littered and covered with "stuff"
The seat cushion's torn, and it pokes at my rear
The dog sits beside us and licks at my ear
There's no place below us, for resting my feet
There's a hole in the floor, O my God, there's the street!!!
The windows don't close, so there's more than a breeze
Wrappers from Twinkies, a Burger King box...
One lonely old sneaker, and smelly old socks
Half a stale donut smashed down on the floor
Darn!! The dog beat me to it, and is looking for more!!
The muffler is loose, you can see the sparks fly
Dirty looks from the folks, who get smoke in their eyes
When we drive by the neighbors, I duck my head and I hide
I'm no Prima Donna....but I've still got some pride!!
He loves that old truck, he calls her a gem!
Make him choose between us??? ....I'd be out on a limb!!
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For Verlena Walker's Slamming Battle Contest
In times gone by, in a land of dreams,
Where childhood thrived with laughter and gleams,
A story unfolded, enchanting and true,
Of mirthful times and dreams that grew.
In a quaint little town, where joy ran rife,
There stood an ice cream truck, full of life.
With its jingling tune and colorful display,
It brought smiles and laughter every day.
Children flocked to its magical sight,
Their dreams bear flight, day and night.
With sticky fingers and faces beaming,
They tasted flavors, delicious and gleaming.
Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry delight,
Each scoop is a memory, pure and bright.
In that little town, under the summer sun,
The ice cream truck was where the fun had begun
From morning till dusk, they would gather around,
In eager anticipation of the sweetest sound.
The tinkling melody that filled the air,
Drawing them closer, without a care.
The children would form a queue, their eyes wide,
As the ice cream truck parked by the roadside.
They'd count their coins, their pockets emptied,
Hoping to indulge in the flavors they craved.
The ice cream man, with a smile so bright,
Served up scoops with all his might.
He knew each child's favorite treat,
And made sure their dreams were complete
With laughter and giggles, they'd savor each bite,
Their taste buds danced in sheer delight.
The ice cream truck became their halcyon place,
A sanctuary of joy, a sweet space.
And as the years passed, and childhood flew by,
A symbol of innocence and a carefree day,
Ice cream truck remained a cherished reminiscence
Where dreams were nurtured in the sweet existence.
Story Poem
Across the road from new truck sales
Lay a yard filld with trucks that died
These vehicles' voice offer tales
Once on them a trucker relied
They thought that he would be companion
Their eternal guide protect them
He took one to the Grand Canyon
He was truck's total brain stem
Made the decisions for each day
This truck didn't object just follow
Whichever way trucker would stray
Even if where lay Capistrano Swallow
Then one day the truck's tires went flat
Soon in this graveyard this truck lies
Trucker lost his favorite hat
Old trucker no longer truck guides
the ice cream truck
do you remember in fourth grade when it was the end of the school year?
kids running around in class, volunteer parents planning for field day events, teachers grading tests.
a year's worth of crafts and colorful displays filled the walls like wallpaper.
you can hear singing from the kids in room 4b, ms. mcdonald's class.
the weather outside was a balmy 80 on this june day.
text books, paint brushes, and the obligatory pre-chewed bubble gum filled the desk cavity.
the assistant principle announces something inaudible on the speaker system.
and we are fast approaching the anticipated summer break.
summer. that's when spring lovers finally kiss and the butterflies leave their cocoon.
birds singing and the flowers are saturated with their red, blue, and pink hues.
the last day of school is finally here and the children ride the bus for the last time.
vacations. swimming pools. ocean city. the smell of hot dogs, grass and humidity.
jersey summers are hot. really hot where i grew up. you sweat just by looking out the window.
then one day, the familiar sound of circus-like music faintly approaches town.
louder and louder until everyone knows its the ice cream truck turning the street corner.
the famous mr. softee, or good humor truck, or some local self employed bearded man.
whatever it was, ice cream in all kinds, flavors, colors, and shapes was 25 yards and 25 cents away.
the music kept playing as children seemingly sprayed out of their homes in rapid succession.
a gathering soon followed with parents and children standing all against that delicious truck.
chocolate. peanut butter. vanilla. strawberry. cookies and cream. cookie dough.
sandwiches. bowls. cones. smoothies. sundays. sprinkles. nuts. oh so yummy!
i miss that ice cream truck. i miss those days...
...and i miss you just as much.
Grandma got run over by a reindeer
I'm sure you remember that song
Well that was my grandma who was hit
And again, they got part of it wrong
See, she really was run over by reindeer
But it was nothing like they said
Those deer were driving a milk truck
That left my poor grandma nearly dead
My poor grandma just got done milking
And was putting the cows back in the field
When eight drunk reindeer in a milk truck
Crashed thru the fence and didn't yield
They just kept on going thru the barn yard
Straight thru the creek and down the hill
Grandma looked like a bug on a windshield
With pieces of her wig on that milk truck's grill
Now poor grandma never seen it coming
Cause she was looking the other way
We even found that poor womans glasses
Stuck on a scarecrow near the hay
Well, now my grandma had not been drinking
Like that song had claimed she was
But somehow they try to make it funny
Seems like those city folk always does
Well, that's about as much as I can tell you
Because the lawsuit is still pending
Those reindeer got some north pole lawyer
And we heard he's pretty good at defending
So beware of reindeer driving milktrucks
For they mean to cause your grandma harm
And don't forget try to remind your grandmas
To look both ways when she leaves the barn
Jingle, jingle... jingle
As we emptied our piggy-banks
Hoping we saved up twenty five cents
Every Saturday afternoon, we would excitedly wait
Twelve O'clock sharp the bells would ring
Screen doors flew open when we heard them
The kids in the neighborhood...
Immediately stopped doing whatever they were doing
Whether the boys were flipping baseball cards or shooting marbles
Or the girls were playing Hop-Scotch or dressing Barbie dolls
We all ran to the corner of Craig street at noon
"All Aboard" yelled the fire chief
"Drop your quarters in the box and have a seat
Don't worry folks, this old jalopy runs well"
He was referring to the little red fire truck
It was rebuilt and custom made just for children to ride in
We cruised the back streets with our hands held high; screaming
'round every bend...we laughed
Tails wagged as dog's chased behind
Putt, putt... putt
"Ride over children, exist to the rear...
See you next weekend" the fire chief yelled
The Old Jalopy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
7-22-2019
The FedEx truck is parked outside,
The boxes being piled,
Awaiting transfer home to
The apartment-domiciled.
Each package hits the lobby first
Where doormen do the sorting,
Relying on the numbers that
The carton’s label’s sporting.
The dwellers get a notice that
Their order has arrived
So no one feels that he or she
From shopping’s been deprived.
Containment days of quarantine
May keep us all indoors
But FedEx helps to bring us
What we’re needing from the stores.
Two Scavengers in a Truck,
Two Beautiful People in a Mercedes
At the stoplight waiting for the light
nine a.m. downtown San Francisco
a bright yellow garbage truck
with two garbage men in red plastic blazers
standing on the back stop
one on each side hanging on
and looking down into
an elegant open Mercedes
with an elegant couple in it
The man
in a hip three-piece linen suit
with shoulder-length blond hair & sunglasses
The young blond woman so casually coiffed
with a short skirt and colored stockings
on the way to his architect's office
And the two scavengers up since four a.m.
grungy from their route
on the way home
the older of the two with grey iron hair
and hunched back
looking down like some
gargoyle Quasimodo
And the younger of the two
also with sunglasses & long hair
about the same age as the Mercedes driver
And both scavengers gazing down
as from a great distance
at the cool couple
as if they were watching some odorless TV ad
in which everything is always possible
And the very red light for an instant
holding all four close together
as if anything at all were possible
between them
across that small gulf
in the high seas
of this democracy
I saw her there the other day
Left there to just rot ‘n rust away
Setting alone under a sad old tree
She is back in a field; hard to see
Probably a year ‘30 or ‘32 I don’t know
Her tires ‘are flat; bumper is hanging low
Her windows broken; seat is torn and tattered
Her body’s been bruised; lo it’s been battered
With time the old are retired and stashed away
Even though she surely was a beauty in her day
But beauty fades when the road’s too long
When tires on the road no longer can sing their song
So the curtain was drawn on the road ahead
And her tires on the road will no longer tread
(song lyrics)
Verse 1:
Now I can’t go fishin’, ‘cuz ya’ sold my rod and reel
Can’t go snow-racin’, ‘cuz ya’ sold my snowmobile
And I got flaws - that’s for sure - and sometimes run amuck
But the final straw that I can’t take: Ya’ sold my pickup truck
Chorus:
You can burn the house, shoot my dog and stomp my ol’ guitar
But when you sold my pickup truck, well, Honey, ya’ went too far
Verse 2:
I didn’t care when ya’ bought that stuff on TV’s QVC
Or ‘cause ya’ always thought of me as your private Money Tree
Or catalog-orderin’ ever’thing from within ol’ Sears Roebuck
But I’ll be danged if I’ll sit still since ya’ sold my pickup truck!
Chorus:
You can burn the house, shoot my dog and stomp my ol’ guitar
But when you sold my pickup truck, well, Honey, ya’ went too far
Verse 3:
So I went and saw a gypsy gal, and a curse on you imposed
To put sand in your chewin' gum and runners in your panty hose
And all your clothes and accessories to never, ever match
And chiggers in your bed sheets - so you’ll always have to scratch!
Chorus:
You can burn the house, shoot my dog and stomp my ol’ guitar
But when you sold my pickup truck, well, Honey, ya’ went too far
Verse 4:
I seen ya’ last Saturday night at Bubba’s Bar and Grill
The image of you in stripes and checks remains within me still
And them red chigger welts upon your nose and face
Tells me that the gypsy curse is workin’ ever’ place!
Chorus:
You can burn the house, shoot my dog and stomp my ol’ guitar
But when you sold my pickup truck, well, Honey, ya’ went too far
One habit to which I adhere
I clean out my Ford once a year
Back seat yet to fill
Keep truckin’ until
I’m no longer able to steer
In my travels around....
from town to town...
I found sitting next to a tree...
a red truck for sale...
that looked like _ell!
a ford, nineteen fifty-three...
So I knocked on the door...
and wasn't for sure...
if they'd sell it to me...
When they answered the door...
they wanted more...
but I gave them two-fifty, not three...
I got it running at last...
and oh! what a task!
I couldn't wait to set it free...
Yea!! it's really fast...
when I give it the gas...
ask those cops who gave tickets to me!
The body's intact...
just one ding and a whack!!
I'll paint it just wait and see!!!
My new red truck is just so sweet,
I feel like I'm in heaven going down the street.
Now I look down at the cars when I stop at the light,
And I have to admit it is quite a delight!
The open road is now calling my name,
I will be travelling in style from whence I came.
The music will be cranked, and I’ll have my wife by my side.
I love my truck, my brand new ride!
I have been privileged,
To hold in my life,
The title that’s known
As a truck driver’s wife.
Now, women all know
Being married is rough.
But, marry a trucker,
And then let’s talk tough!
The miles that they run,
And, the job that they do,
Gives us grey hairs,
And fries our nerves too.
And when they get lonely,
And call up the house,
Who’s there for ‘em to turn to?
it ain’t Mickey Mouse!
But, through all the turmoil,
The stress, struggle, and strife,
Those men appreciate
The finer things in life,
And they’ll thank their lucky stars
For a truck drivers wife!