Best Trucking Poems
you want to know a secret
when I write a poem and it's perfect
i dont share it
i bury it
deep inside of me
where no one else can see
i mean its perfect
not like this shift
it's elegant, poignant,
simplistic, bueatful
trucking perfect
its not erotic
but i read it
mentally masterbate to it
a euphoric chorus
straight form thesaurus
its just that great
im not being egotistical
if read, it would become universal
a meter tethered in clasical measure
a rythmic flow
with many metaphoric undertows
an iconic harmonic tonic
to make you feel like an embryonic hedonic youth
im not being napoleonic
its an actual truth
factually accurate
high in heaven
it produced a tear in the eye of god
who proclaimed
not a single flaw
not a single flaw
and he only saw what i wrote
well, because hes god
me being me i like to tease
allow me to be inclined to share a few lines
blow your mind
redefine your collective defective perspective
realign your ineffective respective connective tisue
"all my cows milk is homogenized
all my crows are well organized
all my sheep like to stare and creep
like to stare and creep"
but you'll never see
the rest of my secret poetry
that only exsist inside of me
cows will always moo
crows will always ka kah
sheep will always go baah baah baah
and the perfect elagance
of my literary inteligence
will die with me
never being seen
qouted, memorised or plagerized
as i will say with my last gasp
the next line being twice my last
all you super-duper-soupers can kiss my ***
ok all you super-duper-soupers have been slammed. if you want to slam me back just a few things. make it funny. make it a little nonsensical and definitly make it over the top
and if you do slam me back send me a soup mail or leave a comment so i can go read your slam.
Verse:
Calamity, atrocity...
Lord, if you please,
we need a little help.
Monstrosity, ferocity...
Here on our knees,
we pray for your strong Hand
To ease this pain, bring on the rain;
wash clean the scenes
of violence and abuse.
Nightmares and flares of hatred,
war and trafficking,
these days, are too profuse.
Chorus:
Set us free.
O Lord, we beg You, set us free
from the wickedness that strangles,
the temptations that it dangles;
this world's knotted up in tangles.
Set us free.
Verse:
We know you care; Your love for us
beyond compare;
we doubt You want our fall.
We've come so far, so many scars
show who You are;
please, harken to our call.
Humanity can do so much,
but so much still seems
way beyond our reach.
We've gotten ourselves in this mess,
we do confess;
Your help we now beseech.
Chorus:
Set us free.
O Lord, we beg You, set us free
from the wickedness that strangles,
the temptations that it dangles;
this world's knotted up in tangles.
Set us free.
Verse:
I've never really asked before,
but I implore You
please, don't look away.
Help pave the way for all astray,
those lost, uncertain, in decay
and those who really
could not love You more.
Please make anew, this world askew,
' least clean it of its vile, foul debris.
Help plant the seeds of dignity,
of righteousness and unity
with hope, joy, peace, and love
always in view.
Chorus:
Set us free.
O Lord, we beg You, set us free
from the wickedness that strangles,
the temptations that it dangles;
this world's knotted up in tangles.
Set us free.
Set us free.
O Lord, we beg You, set us free.
Even though our struggle's real,
we can't deny Your presence here;
be ever with us, Lord, until
we are free.
Set us free.
O Lord, have mercy, hear our plea.
We won't give up, not giving in;
we'll keep on trucking to the end.
Oh, won't it be amazing when
each broken heart is on the mend,
and we are free?
~Jodie 2024
Emma was a pretty girl,
And was pretty wild.
She never minded what people said,
Nor did she mind her mother.
Mornings when she left for school
She also left her books,
Everyone would look at her,
And also gave her looks.
She loved to comb through magazines,
Yet never combed her hair,
Her dad thought she should step it up,
So she’d step in puddles.
Now Emma wasn’t really bad
She just had had bad habits,
Deciding to turn her life around,
She turned right on the street.
Now as the child was trucking on home,
She saw a truck come at her,
The driver was screaming “Are you mad?”
It seemed he was mad at her.
She stood and watched the truck tip
Heard a tip, get out of the way.
The driver jumped out and flew in a rage,
While thousands of pies flew through the air.
As the pies began to land
On people and on land,
They all turned red, orange and blue
Emma almost felt blue too.
Now as she stood there looking sweet
Tasting the sweet from her dress,
Absolute anarchy went down
As people bent down to delight in a good old fashion pie fight.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
10.13.2014
Plenitude of Pies Contest
8th
RUN OVER
a child’s mind at play
with the words
“he was run over by a mack truck”
his books flew as he crossed the street
from the public school not far away -
a most busy street.
did i say there is a school there?
kids ne’er slow down -
they keep trucking along.
a huge tire track across a brown grocery bag
the cover of an english book.
a teenager on crutches (years later)
on crutches, on crutches...
how slow does a truck have to go to miss
a small child with books?
a child’s mind at play -
the words had nowhere to go.
i was still learning how to form sentences.
how to express awe and place interjections!
you cross our sleepy village,
near the firehouse,
(they don’t run over children)
and cross the busy busy street
to get to the school.
i rode a bus to Catholic school,
safe -
except for one crazy nun,
who’d run over some.
5/7/2019
An ode to a great friend, Shadow is his name.
We hunted deer in the fall but trucking was our game.
Years on the road, running Canada and the U.S
To have anyone in that truck, simply put he was the best.
He would listen as I talked of home, as we would roll through the night.
Now it's harder than ever to look over to the empty seat to my right.
Making me laugh as he would howl, when I sang to some old song.
His head out the window looking for a smile, which never took too long.
Countless memories we will have, and I'll always hold near.
Companionship for so many miles and year after year.
So keep an ear out for me boy, as you play in your new hunting grounds.
One day I'll be riding over the rim,and will be calling.
When it's my turn to come around.
We need to send a message for Washington to hear
We need to make a statement and make it loud and clear
Leave rigs double parked in every town
Come on truckers. Shut it down
Block the highways. Set your course.
Show our politicians a united force
Politicians! While you're kissing babies remember this
We've got something you can kiss
We wanted a leader. We got a clown.
So let's go truckers. Shut it down.
It is time to start sending a message to our OPEC owned and
operated congresss. If you can't stop the oil gougiing prices, we can stop the
entire country. What happens if the last of the American cowboys, the truck
drivers, unite? If they double park their rigs on the interstates all over the country,
unhook them and leave them there? These guys are getting shafted by the same
people who subsidize airlines so the executives can milk the living hell out of it.
Meanwhile, not only the independent, but any small trucking company can't afford
to stay in business. It is time to shut it down
White picket fence in the rear view
Coordinates in the GPS
He honks as he leaves the driveway
For a three day trip to the west
They call it the white line fever
And it's addictive as crack cocaine
The need to be out there trucking
Injected right into your veins.
The kids are sleeping on the porch
The dog is tugging at its chain
She smiles and tells him be careful
It looks like we're in for some rain.
They call it the white line fever
And it's addictive as crack cocaine
The need to be out there trucking
Injected right into your veins.
He doesn't care what he's hauling
As long as he's out on the road
Crisscrossing county and state lines
To pick up yet another load.
They call it the white line fever
And it's addictive as crack cocaine
The need to be out there trucking
Injected right into your veins.
He's got her picture in the truck
That he talks to late at night
Driving alone in the darkness
With not another car in sight.
They call it the white line fever
And it's addictive as crack cocaine
The need to be out there trucking
Injected right into your veins.
Truck driving runs in the family
His granddaddy owned his own rig
His daddy was always saying
You can drive son when you get big.
They call it the white line fever
And it's addictive as crack cocaine
The need to be out there trucking
Injected right into your veins.
People ask him how he managed
To keep driving for all those years
He tells them about a picture
And the sweet sound of shifting gears.
They call it the white line fever
And it's addictive as crack cocaine
The need to be out there trucking
Injected right into your veins.
The Jewish brothers in Defiance were definitely tough.
One wanted to kill many Germans, the other to save many Jews.
The German soldiers were expendable, unmarried, unremarkable.
Each little death was very little, a little spittle in a big wind.
Fast forward to my friend's son's bar mitzvah or daughter's
coming of age ceremony. Food is abundant, the music frenetic,
the rabbi paid. Gifts generous but not obvious.
Wealth does not obviate death and we know it.
Here too we have natural leaders. Youth basketball coaches,
school principals and, again, interpreters of prayers. When
violence comes to the neighborhood they are who we'll first look to
for governance and guns. Unless have you read The Admirable
Crichton?
Boredom, boredom conflated with loneliness, may be a sign
of good luck. To live a good length or light year away from man's
bad breath, allergenic perfumes, sickening flatulence and shed hair.
But you are drawn back into the debate about perfection by your own
********.
While teaching at the old city jail I have learned this: only meditation
upon the periodic table can save your soul. From itself.
Imagining the world without the self will make you whole.
What else is there to say. Do less until one thing's done well.
After the war the brothers started a small trucking company
in the Bronx. Grateful for such peace, the accounting
was relaxing. They thought back to how they met their wives, naked
before the bombs and bullets. How they lost and found themselves in
what happened.
There once was a trucking company
Held together with duck tape funny
Repairs a lick and promise
Polished with cloth and Comet
Mechanics work done very subtly
He's leavin' on a Greyhound Bus
He's done got tired of us
Unmatched socks lie in the drawer
Loose tobacco on the floor
What did he do when he was here
What about him did we endear
Oh! I remember how he held me close
Changes happen that is the way life goes
Now a quick hug and gran I love you
A few moments and he is through
Engrained in my heart and memory
When he was totally dependent on me
Our grandson has a job with a long haul
trucking company..He leaves tomorrow
for ten weeks of schooling and training
on the job...Yeah!! He finally got a job..
Hi, Soup pals!! Hubbie soon to be home from a very long drive. He was gone an abnormally long time trucking this month, so I doubt I will be here much in the next few days. Just to let you know in case you visit my poems and you don't hear back from me right away! Thanks to those supporting the Clerihew contest. Hope you are following my rules. hahaha. You are all the greatest!!!
If you only knew the love I have for you ,
than your know why I really call you my
boo.
My love for you have always been true,
even when I was mad & screamed I was
though.
Emotions kicked in couldn't sleep well
most nights,
My mind kept tripping like "man take a
hike but, my heart kept saying "stay"
everything gonna be all right.
Its pretty normal "we not the only two that
fuss & fight.
Trying to get our point across on who is
right.
True enough My immature ways had
caused many miserable days. Saying
things that hurt and I can't even explain.
To when I said I loved you, you said it was
lame.. I couldn't be mad cause I was the
one to blame.
All in my feelings no-one to talk to,
trucking on many lonely highways alone
my way, over analyzing situations, Not
knowing what to say. Just wondering will
we make it together one last day. Trying to
figure out how to talk without ugly words
getting in our way. Having a chance to talk
before we both go a stray.
I'm glad we can say we done with all that ,
we been up ,we been down , hard time
keeping our feet on solid grounds most
important "we stuck around"
Even, when we both thought it was a
watse of time.
Some people wouldn't understand. no-
one gives us a dime so I pay them no
mind.
Get you some business while I take care
of mines. If no-one understands me I feel
that you do, For these are the reasons I
Love you & call you my Boo.
By: Fredrick Haynes
For some reason
I really like to drive,
and ever since I was sixteen,
when I get behind the wheel
feel free and alive...
Only once had an accident
when I was seventeen,
pulling out too fast of the driveway,
into my parents car I careened,
thank God it was minor damage
and my Dad was able to pop
the dent out with a hammer,
got a stern look and talking to
but kept me out of the slammer,
Have driven some Dodges and Chevy
cars in the past, but lately drive
a Ford Focus because its
much better on the gas...
Have driven in about all of the
states on the east coast,
and when I go once a year
to visit some family
its destination L.I., New York,
Out west have driven through
Texas, Oklahoma, Arizona
and even California,
reason being my husband
back then went to a school
called UTI in Phoenix, Arizona...
Probably the most traveled
interstate in the east being I-75 and I-24,
which is one of the biggest
trucking routes that I know of by far,
and I truly admire truck drivers
driving their 18 wheelers
up and down the highways and interstates,
they just scare me a bit
when they get too close,
driving as if my car was
truck driver bait...
I even thought once about
becoming a truck driver
but that was a fleeting idea
that lost most of its appeal,
because the more I thought of it
wouldn't really like that career,
especially since they're all
probably pretty heavy from
constantly being behind the wheel,
and when I stop at those truck stops
I can't help but notice,
that the truck drivers not only
buy toothpaste for their teeth,
but also preparation H
for their hemorrhoids...
My son and I just came home
from Chattanooga, Tenn.,
and thank God we both
arrived home safely and in one piece,
because even though I love to drive
can't understand why people
fly by me doing 80 like in an emergency,
unless someone in the car
has to use a restroom or
is about to deliver a baby...
and lately when I drive
around Moccasin Bend
feel a little more on edge
and on the offensive,
because its like driving on the autobahn
or being in the Indy 500!
Remember, don't text and drive because you want to arrive alive…:)
P.S. Happy 60th Birthday Interstate System!
Prism
Driving wild
Bending over corners
Racing on curved rainbow colored roads
Without sleep my gal and I just keep on trucking
Like a couple of lost prisms fractured by the lightning strikes
In turn, we reflect on branching roads, break of day, and make our way back home
Created by: Earl Schumacker on 12/18/14 for Nette Onclaud’s “ ENCHANTMENT THROUGH A PRISM” ¬- Poetry Contest – Theme - #5 “It’s My Life”
Hey, you little boy with the hole in your shoe!
Yeah, you who thinks the whole world is
Looking down on you!
Straighten up those shoulders, stick out that chin,
That's right, keep on trying again and again!
Push out that chest, hold that head up high,
Things will go your way, by and by!
So they're pushing you aside - no, don't you cry.
Keep on trucking, forget that sigh...strut your stuff, prove you're a man, you can do it, I know you can!
Now it don't matter that your clothes are tattered and torn,
With a little faith you can still go on...to the top of the heap,
Come on boy stride, but I can't promise that
it won't tax your pride, and no, I can't promise it will be an easy ride.
Come on, little boy, you with the bow in your knee,
Push on, push on and some day you'll be free...
Of care, of want, of those shoes with the hole,
but promise me you won't sell your soul.
Reach out your hand, hold on to faith and trust,
Come on little fellow, do it or bust!
Climb out of that ghetto - aim for the top, and in the face of adversity, don't you dare stop!
Just remembr God loves you and so do I,
And things will get better if you just try!
Cynthia