Best Two Lane Poems
~
Winter breathes in sepia tones along a lonely two lane street
divided amongst the sweeping frozen dunes
now forced into shouldered amnesty
Street lights shiver in snowcapped bonnets
while sidewalks sleep ‘neath blankets of flittering flakes
The air, frigidly crisp…moves of tiny chiffon sparkles dancing
Rooftops, plump and soft, show off their frosted padding
as evergreens find alabaster fingers tickling their branches
in chilled teasings and frozen dustings
Footprints, once there are gone, covered and recovered again
all evidence of life is erased beneath pearl clouded skies
and faint outlines of distant thoughts
White on black stripes drape in glacial wanderings
spanning the slush of asphalt weavings
in straight line piercings across the wintry landscape
January reigns brutal, subzero ponderings swirl
from high above the icebox wasteland, once brimming with color
now opaque in its arctic seasoned disguise…
~
Written from memory…no winter here. : )
FRIENDSHIPS
Friends are the family
You choose for yourself
They're not built on money
Or to improve your health
They add so much to us
It's hard to relay
But disown a good friend
There's a high price to pay
A friend in your heart
Is worth two in the mind
A good friend, a true friend
Is real hard to find
Once you have found one
Do not let them go
With good friends beside you
You'll defeat any foe
A true lasting friendship
Built over the years
They've sat and laughed with you
And dried lots of tears
Birth, marriage and death
They've witnessed it all
You've tripped and you've stumbled
They won't let you fall
They'll guide you and help you
Sort out bloodied knees
With a smile and a soft word
Troubles halved with great ease
They'll coax and cajole you
To stand up for yourself
Their friendship's a free gift
You've no need for wealth
A return of this favour
Is all that they ask
No time and no money spent
The easiest of tasks
A two lane arrangement
To “Give as you receive”
If you don't return it
Expect them to leave
You'll upset their feelings
You could make them cry
Now sad and dejected
You wave them goodbye
So listen to me now
And listen up well
A friendships no possession
You're unable to sell
You can't count out friendship
It's deep in your heart
If asked to explain
You'll know where to start
It is spiritual, it's loving
It's “never say die”
It's a handshake or a warm hug
A glint in the eye
It's a total emotion
It stands out alone
It's a humorous message
Or a chat on the phone
It's often unspoken
No words to explain
You just think of the person
To smile once again
A loving mutual bond
Between two good friends
No matter the distance
The miles it transcends
So look out for your good friends
Keep them in your heart
Distance or time parted
Can't keep you apart
So love and cherish them
Your love you will send
From this day forever
Til your life's at it's end.
I can remember it like it was yesterday.....
Listening to a hard rock "all-night" radio station,
boppin' back from college to my hometown in the middle
of the night, on an endless two-lane highway, in the middle of nowhere.
Up around the curve, my headlights engulfed a scene I'll never forget.......
What looked like three or four cars (to this day I'm not sure) smashed, crumpled
and twisted in burning smoke, completely blocking the road.....
Slamming on my brakes, I skidded to a stop, trying to process what I was witnessing,
I pulled up a few feet closer in my car and unrolled my window....
Burnt shredded metal filled my nostrils with the scent of death, and not a sound......
The silence terrified me...... I started to get out of my car........
Then, from the bowels of the horror, a voice whispered to me "don't stop! go for help"
Numb, I got back in my car..... that's when the wreck of cars parted, and a path was created
to pass through! I drove to the next exit and had the clerk call 911, giving them
directions to
the crash......I drove on into the night, fumbling for a radio station.
_____________________________
The two-lane road stretches
through a shimmering glaze
to the horizon, passing
smokestacks of mesas spewing
clay and maize in vaporous mass.
I hear the sibylline whisper of rain
through emerald brush
and serpentine hiss
of slithering sand.
The acrid smell permeates
evergreen and purple sage,
carries the aroma
with fine dust.
I point my thumb west,
a prayer for a willing traveler
to whisk me away
from the cumulative downpour
when the desert paint
floods umber in the gullies.
walk me through old memories
days when true love came to be
take me down an old backroad
on a two lane highway fantasy
and paint the picture of sunset
parked in a field where we met
as fireflies wait on night to fall
until we're close as we can get
we'll dance beneath the stars
by headlights of a parked car
country music from the radio
Dixie moon shines
near and far
so:
walk me through old memories
before gray twilight came to be
just one last time for yesterday
until morning sun
awakens
me
Road work had been finished
for the winter on an asphalt strip
north of town near a nature preserve.
I said good-bye to the hotel owner
and he invited me back
although the town was a lifetime away
from my home. We shook hands.
The town wore its history well
with a façade of an old west town
complete with a jail and post office
on its main street, as if it wanted
to live that life again.
Picture postcards were sold in a drug store
to be packed away and taken home.
Gates of fences aligning themselves
on either side of a highway
spoke of the last cattle drive.
I realized this was the west
where cowboys lived and died.
Reflections stirred of how we gave of our lives
for our dreams and for the ones we loved.
Hasn’t it always been this way?
Sandhills loomed to my side as I drove
on a two-lane east to another town
where I could see another historic site
then get onto the interstate and drive
to the next assignment.
The sky above the open land was an ocean
as I drove east toward the sun.
Engraved in chromes steel, is benedictions creed
The road warrior's born to be free mentality,
A legacy's name embossed in history, behold
The American Harley Davidson Motorcycle.
Fires hell bound creation, blazing down the
Interstates two lane highway, feasting upon
The concrete and asphalt jungle, it lives to be driven,
And is driven to live.
Emerging from brimstone's smoke, and hails
Lightning flash, a two wheeled vehicle of deliverance,
Cuts the wild heart in half, releasing mankind's
Inner beast setting it free, unto the open roads
Badlands, of ultimate abandonment to freedom's row.
The rebel unforgiven,thus follows the lost by ways
Seeking liberation’s untamed spiritual knowledge.
Held firmly beneath the wings of the American eagle, and
Draped within the standard most sacred
Under the red, white, and blue flag, of the U.S.A.
A living entity, releasing society's inhibitions,
At the sound of it's mighty roar, a freed lone wolf,
Racing against the winds of the restless spirit.
The leather jacket's brotherhood, symbolizing
A grand belief in the declaration of independence,
That all men are created equal, and shall have the
God given right, to seek true freedom's liberty at will.
These are the modern cowboy desperado's,
Riding upon dual engines of power,
Time bandits whom trust in God and country alone.
A stampers anvil strikes in thunders rage,
Melting quick silver, speeds downwards
Into a symbolic mold, leaving behind tradition's
Birthmark, and the Harley Davidson symbol
Is born.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
I have the need to feel free
like I've got nothing to lose,
I just want to get into my
blue convertible and cruise.
I'm growing tired and bored
of this same old abode,
I want to go much further
than just down the road.
I ease my dark sunglasses
down over my brown eyes,
as the summer evening sun
begins setting low in the skies.
My hand grips the steering wheel
and my foot holds the throttle,
as my lips take a long drink
from a cold Coca-Cola bottle.
I reach over and tune my radio
to my favorite rock station,
now I feel like driving through
every state in this nation.
I won't know where I'm going
until I finally get there,
All that I want to do is enjoy
the wind blowing in my hair.
I hold my hand out the window
to feel the air through my fingers,
I wish that I could always be
where the free spirit lingers.
Around the endless curves
my car disappears into shade,
far away in the distance
my bright red tail-lights fade.
I pass by rows of green trees
and a thousand birds on a wire,
the sky blazes a yellow-orange
as if the clouds were on fire.
I could not imagine anything
better to end this perfect day,
than an amazing view of sunset
out on this lonesome highway.
The air is becoming cooler
as the day blurs into night,
I feel so awake and alive
in the sun's fading light.
I keep traveling on down
this lonely two-lane road,
I drive into the sunset
and forget my old abode.
May 8th, 2014
Hurricane
By Edmund Siejka
There were warnings of a hurricane
People had been through this before
They knew what to do
Why some of the houses on the water were worth over a million dollars
They would ride it out.
The hurricane came ashore and slowly marched inland
South of Merrick Road
Cold grimy
Water was everywhere
Sewage and fuel coated lawns
Soldiers patrolled areas hardest hit
Boats were strewed in streets and yards
Neighborhoods sat empty for weeks
And politicians worried about their future.
Spray painted signs warned
“You loot
We shoot”
Heat and electricity were luxuries
Cash was a valuable commodity
Most people were patient
Some were not
But no one seemed to care.
Families returned to their neighborhoods
Tired, cold, and hungry
Water logged furniture lined the streets
Making two lane roads impossible
The only ones to show up
Were utility workers from out of State.
We don’t respect nature
We build where we shouldn’t
We pollute when we should know better
We use up resources like there’s no tomorrow
And then we’re surprised when nature hits back and reminds us that she is after all
…….Mother Nature.
I passed a squirrel
on a two-lane back road
that a car had run over
Some rule was broken...
Its front legs scratched and scraped
at the pavement but it was stuck
like glue, flat on the asphalt
Its head was bobbing
up and down, side to side
(Surely there was no pain?)
Damn it ALL, you little...
Slammed on the brakes
skidded to the side of the road
made an illegal 3 point turn
Returning to the scene of the crime,
I crushed the head of God’s creation
turning it into fresh buzzard food
turning it back home to its Creator
This creature did not have it coming
This creature did not deserve it
This creature was as good or better
than me or any other human being
God's child minded its business
God's child never hurt anyone
God's child of Nature's symphony
might have done the same for me
God's child had no clue
it was crossing a road
or even what a road was
but I did…
The Hi-ways and the By-ways
By Franklin Price
6/5/2016
The hi-ways and the bi-ways long before the Super-way,
Driving 'round the country different, here are memories of the day
The roads were mostly two lane, speeds were fast at fifty-five.
Had to watch out for the tractors to get there breathing and alive.
No white lines on the edges. No reflectors on the lines.
Speed traps in the small towns; directly paid the cops the fines
Watched for ads of Burma Shave. The signs all in a row
With quirky little sayings; looked for ones we didn't know.
Stopped to eat at truck stops; the best food was there you know.
Pro drivers always ate there. Where else should travelers go?
Could stay the night in teepees or a small white Alamo
Many themed motels along the way; creative places we could go
Had to drive through every town; that's why the roads were made
Here's what I saw there in them before the memories of them fade
The highway was the main street; sometimes the railroad by its side
Small stores were there for shopping. Restaurant food was country fried
Always was a barber shop and a small department store
A hardware place with everything you could ever want and more
A church or two that closed the shops were there on holy ground
All attended in their very best when Sunday rolled around
A station there to get some gas, someone to top the tanks,
Check the oil, wash the windows and at the end to give you thanks
To fill up cost a buck or two to get us on our way
Always got change for a five; that's how it was back in the day.
this one goes out to all you symbolphrenics
wink wink light the fuse and
bow only before your own image
for we are each a TV studio
with really huge detector molecules
recall that consciousness is tunable
you need only space your characters
and employ the 11th Commandment play fair
since my next act will be
to answer all your questions
and awaken you into a fairy tale kingdom
touch your finger to your temple
and smile for the first time
or play dumb and ride your rocket cycle
like there's no other traffic
from whence gallop dustily
the Fusileers of Wrackworm
sputtering judgmental patriarchs
make me vomit up my existence tax
hail the King and his syphilis
a Macy's parade of commitment
yes mice fart alongside the elephants
and what you don't know can
tear your guts out with surprise
but his dreams were tentacles
because this is all highly experimental
and nerve wracking
have a beer relax
tear off some 30 mile road kill chew
best jerky squealing wheels can buy
2-D carcass straight to your door
with the buzz of hot flies
with the hot buzz of flies
in a two lane blacktop
sun baked desert minute
your reward for coughing in the theater
did you get the message
a colorful example of paintball diplomacy
smelling of chainsaw oil and circus sawdust
in a diary of hard edge opaque metaphysics
his only safety the anchovy hunters
were never as numerous as their prey
never apologize to yourself
it just becomes habit
the semioticians could
dick with that for hours wink wink
being deaf to the tea kettle
selling loneliness as a communal experience
so hey kids let's learn something new
and dine with the revolution
the information revolution you sod
well besame mucho you brute
pain is not a higher nerve path
style monsters invade the sky
maniquinkind doomed and destroyed
I suppose every language
has its upper crust dialect
so few palindromes when you need them
with a leak proof lid what would Tupper wear
the customer can do no wrong
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
The younger crowd will not believe this bit of lore I fear,
But operating vehicles was more complicated in yesteryear!
For example, to signal turns you hung your arm out the door,
And to dim the lights there was a dimmer switch mounted on the floor!
If, alas, you punctured a tire, you repaired it with an inner tube.
You parked your car over a pit at the garage for an oil change and lube.
The gearshift lever was on the floor and it was always in the way,
'Specially when with your sweetie you tried to make a little hay!
To start the engine on some cars you used a knuckle bustin' crank!
To open a convertible top, you had to give it a humongous yank!
Heaters operated sporadically and in the winter you froze your tush!
Air conditioning was the passing breeze sans cooler buttons to push!
Dogs and chickens were shooed away with an oogah-oogah horn.
Shock absorbers were rare - jouncing, squeaky springs kept cars airborne
Lots of chrome and rumble seats were available for the more audacious.
Folks huddled close together since seating wasn't all that spacious!
There was a clutch to fool with and you depended on mechanical brakes.
A long trip over two-lane roads was certain to give you pains and aches!
About the only good thing about cars back then is when you filled the tank.
You needn't seek a usurious loan (as you do today) from the local bank!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
A Southern Road in life
I was driving south along a two lane road between South Carolina and Georgia.
On the left-hand side of the road there were black ladies dressed
in black all weeping and wailing.
On the right-hand side of the road was a man dressed in a bright yellow
suit. I interpret this as his representing the deceased soul having passed
into heaven being happy, gay (merry), free rejoicing. It could be the man
in yellow represented the devil having captured another soul rejoicing
in the same manor.
The road, I was traveling, represents the road in life we are all traveling
with our interpretations of our passing judgements.
With all due respect, I offer this interpretation. Sorry if it is in error or in
any way offends.
A white wash of striated clouds
stretch expansively
across the arid desert sky
where Joshua trees commune
lifting up crooked cactus-like arms
towards the searing sun.
Massive layers of brown boulders
jut, forming endless sculptures
hidden places where the ancients
made their penitence with words
swept away by unforgiving winds.
Shadows shift under the arc of the sun
where nervous roadrunners dart
startled lizards seek shade
great hawks circle with outstretched wings
and tortoises amble as the hours crawl by.
Two lane highways trail into the horizon
toward snow capped mountain peaks
lined by nameless telephone poles
and tumbleweeds that roll aimlessly
across storefronts and sleepy
rundown towns in disrepair.
Yet the mystique of the Mojave plains
still remains an inviting oasis
of refreshment and contemplation
where time stands still
beneath the stillness
of the midnight stars.
12/5/2022