Long Trucks Poems
Long Trucks Poems. Below are the most popular long Trucks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trucks poems by poem length and keyword.
Always You
From the day that I was born to when I was just a tot.
I don't recall too much at all of all the things I got.
I could not know how I would grow or see things I'd go through.
But looking back behind me now there was always you.
From rides in back of pick up trucks to picnics at the park.
You chased away the monsters in my room when it got dark.
There were bruises, cuts and scrapes and teardrops I would cry.
Times you smiled at me and promised I won't die.
Skipping school and being cool my ignorance abounded.
Always back and right on track when you said I was grounded.
Times I could not understand some things you used to do.
But looking back behind me now there was always you.
There were fathers down the block who played catch in the yard.
We did too a time or two but you always worked so hard.
Still today I sometimes think and start to wonder why.
How come back then the way it was I never saw you cry.
Then came the days we're friends again and I began to see.
That every thing you ever did you always did for me.
Finally I found my way and I gained understanding.
Of the time called yesterday when life was so demanding.
I wish with all that I hold dear oh how I hope and pray.
That you can feel the love I send to you this Fathers Day.
I am who I am today after all that we've been through.
Because you always loved me, and there was always you.
Edwin C Hofert
To shower or not to shower
That is the question
That assaults me
Every time I scratch my head
Wondering
How doing nothing
Is making me sweat.
Well, I do some things
Like look out the window
And make sure the street is still there.
I love trash pick-up day
Like a little kid excited
To see the big trucks.
I check the mail frequently
The bills are even exciting now.
I do time on a stationary bicycle
Which somehow seems metaphorically
Mind boggling
Yet could be related to
My under arm conundrum.
OH, I sneak out and pet the neighbors cat
And in a fit of corona induced insanity
I trimmed my neighbors hedges.
Oh well, just another day in hell
Without the flames.....
John G. Lawless
8/13/2020
A hurtful event occuring
Covering all of the land.
Outside when I opened my eyes I saw nature crumbling
Crumbling down as the sun sets.
The wind came from mountains
Reached the ocean.
They ended their journey
But directionless it was.
Rain clouds that were missed suddenly is over my head.
Rocks that were unbothered for years came to the road.
Cars and trucks blocked in the heavy rainfall
The early December weather hits just now.
Fogs come brought peace too.
Meanwhile people on road in panic
People in the fields shocked
People on holidays are not happy.
Suddenly the change of weather brought chain of events
That were on hold for past few years.
It's chaos everywhere.
Someone looking for help
Someone looking for shelter
Someone crying for forgiveness from God
Someone trying to kill themself.
Someone trying to save themselves.
Someone trying to save someone
Someone eating while the rain hits the roof.
Someone waiting for their answer.
Someone watching their mother cook.
Someone watching their Dad build a small home for their pet.
Someone watching their sister draw.
Someone watching their brother build a tower of cards.
Someone enjoying because their school announced a holiday.
Someone depressed that they still have to go college despite the chaos.
Someone truly worried about their son far away.
Someone wanting to live a normal life.
Someone who's enjoying their lone time just by doing what they like.
Someone just staring at the window looking for purpose.
There are all kinds of chaos.
Chaos is a fruitful event of everyone's life
Either it makes people hungry for what they want or completely meaningless and empty from inside.
People make progress sometimes or maybe most of the times
But some people can't.
They give up.
Don't give up.
Chaos is good.
Chaos is bad
But chaos isn't the end.
The deal with trucks (should you not own a truck)
that lollipop horsepowered cylinders -
is really how remarkably well they suck
the rubber tread where the interstate scissors
its cousin, Dixie, born Mississippi,
born as a man and staunch straight-ticket-down
yee-haw! Republican, a down-low-bi-
sexual, wearing Grand Wizard wedding gowns
in pappy’s cabin built on rolling logs,
who each day climbs the thick-cylinder pole
that proudly displays confederate cogs
to the eighteenth turn called a glory hole
where all the king’s horses and all the kings men
absolve all the crackers their cracker-crumbed sin.
12/23/2018
Your poems have
nice images.
I can't use them.
They don't drive trucks,
weld, or pour cement.
I can't wear them
like boots in the snow.
They won't keep my head
dry in the rain.
I like your images
but
don't try to pull a
fast one.
A slight of pen
quicker than the eye.
A twist of tongue
dredged from dead scrolls.
Your images are good
but I'm tired.
If they were on TV
I'd turn the channel.
I don't think of your
poems during the World Series.
You will become famous,
appointed to a marble history,
far removed from the slamming
screen doors,
the runny noses of crying
babies.
Elitist pedagogues
will force feed the young
on you.
America will hate you
to your effete marrow,
and Exxon won't sponsor
you.
Published Black Buzzard Press - 1982
I went on a strange journey this morning
It wasn't planned or arranged
I only responded to the voice ringing in my ear to go to a special place
I circled around the community to avoid this spontaneous journey
But everywhere I go I ended on the same main road
Life is a simple journey with many circles and triangles
It takes you from East to West and North to South
up and down in and out and around in circles
It is better not to avoid it but stand up strong and challenge it
You must go all the way through to learn about the life in you
Hired drivers fill the roadways spewing out toxic fumes
and playing a horrible tune
No real business exist in this residential community
All the way is traffic jam but they are destined to be dammed
Big trucks with signs van and cars with all types of labels
doing business on the roadways
They drive up and down the street to confused the people
and drive them out of the community
I sat on the corner watching them going in and out
useless traffic polluting the roads with this surveillance strategies must cease
And big camera must be installed on the streets
They crowd the street night and day slow down the traffic
deceive the people and pretend as if they are going to work
but they have no specific destination they just wait on the call
to crawl out of their holes and drive up and down and around the bend
Motor vehicle infiltrate the communities with various types of duties
Cars lined up on both sides of the streets and you can't tell
the difference between the authority and the thieves
Everywhere I go they are playing the same drum beat
Mocking the morning in the sun heat
Fake shoppers and hired drivers crowd America's street
On my way back something symbolic crossed my path
Twelve ducks came out in front of me six of them crossed the road
ahead of me and depart
The next six scramble into the bushes towards the stagnant pond
I count them out aloud to make sure I was not seeing doubles
One two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve
And I shouted " It is the government"
Twelve ducks diverge.
I am the snow, letting go from the gray sky above
Floating light as feathers, as if fallen from a dove
My snowflakes are all sizes, each one of its own
I fall delicately downward or sideways with wind blown
I cover the ground like a blanket and trace branches like art
Flakes come together upon landing after free falling apart
I create fun for children, who play and make a snowman
Bringing smiles through storms to anyone they can
I tickle noses, decorate hats and cool people’s tongue
I often fall in places where carols have been sung
I am heavy to shovel, so be careful with your back
If you ever get lost, find and follow your own track
I don’t like to get dirty, but sand keeps people safe on roads
Those dump trucks that like to move me, carry by the loads
So just remember me pure, happy, soft and white
Each winter, I will bring you a fresh, pretty new sight
Heidi Sands
2/25/22
My spirit has been weeping for days
Yearning for a quiet place to stay
To hear strong words of wisdom
That will empower and nurture my wounded soul
The night's are not silent and the days
are rambunctious and noisy
people wandering up and down the treacherous bridge
faces as hard as ice and clenched fists positioned to fight
Nature is crying from within and the tempestuous wind is bellowing
The unapologetic moon peers deeply into my injured soul
unraveling the sordid mystery and radiating a furious energy
I am feeling sad but not confused I am kindled by own fire
parched from within and something stronger than I
is beckoning to come in
I watched the unruly crowd march about in droves
waiting for the command to execute a devious demand
I am locked down in deep sorrows nothing amuses me
I am stifled by the negative energy around me
Cars and trucks going in and out
Buses and trailers blocking the roads
and people pretending to be working but walking about
spreading toxic energy in the atmosphere
I escaped onto the lonely bridge
watching the moon burying itself
under the thick night cloud and
its glares disappears without echoing a sound
The planet slowly swept over me
and without warning something powerful abducted me.
Fizzing with excitement
Teaming with fruity flavor
Zesty and delightful
My color is beyond compare
I am a painter, and cannot imagine
Any painting without it.
She colors lilies and dragons,
leaves, and wild women’s hair
I lavish her upon a canvas with finesse
She does not hold back, and neither do I
We are exuberantly delightful.
We splash ourselves into life,
loving what comes
We are zealous zealots
Making no apologies for our actions
Not as blatant as stop signs or fire trucks
A near relative but sunnier
We need no glitter or sparkle
Our joy comes out in soul force
into the meadows in the form of tiger lilies
We are confidence, we are hope, we are delight
Beaks and legs of ducks are beholden to us
Harvest moon would be dour without us
We are glamour and excitement
We are enthusiastically and unapologetically ourselves.
the three legged dog scrounging trash cans for a meal in Allentown,
befriends the blind girl with her ragged doll, on her face a permanent frown.
the mother in need of dangerous drugs, to make it through another day,
sells her wasting body to those who seek, these desperate souls who’ve lost their way.
soup kitchens filled with greasy men, who walk the unforgiving streets,
their dreams lay shattered, their clothes all tattered, at night roll up in dirty sheets.
the rich man rolls down the darkened window, of his long black limousine,
and tosses quarters on the ground, and laughs at such a frantic scene,
of children scrambling, fighting, biting, to get their measly share,
to buy some candy at the grocery store, as puzzled people look and stare.
as nightfall comes, the trucks roll in to wash the city streets,
but cannot wash away the sadness here, that every day repeats.
the organ grinder with his monkey spots the blind girl in the park,
and puts a dollar in her hand, as the oriole whistles in the dark.
the mother following close behind, extends her hand, asking for more,
he hands another five, she thanks him, walks away and looks to score,
another bag of crack cocaine, as the little girl starts to cry,
“where is my little dog she asks”, the mother asks her why,
“I want my doggie, it’s my friend, and it loves me the best”,
her mother falls upon her knees, and holds her closely to her chest.
“no darling, it’s me that loves you, loves you so much more”,
together they run hand in hand, as the rain begins to pour.
now in rehab she proudly claims “three years today and I’m still clean”,
happy together now at home, mother, daughter, and the dog they named Aileen’