Truckers' and Others Poems & Poetry

During the early gray hours.
When fog covers the land.
Bright white, yellow, and blue orbs,
travel north through the fog.

During the early gray hours.
When fog covers the land.
Red eye's stare back at me through the windshield.

I close my eyes at night and picture your sweet face, wishing you were here for me to embrace,

Sometimes late at night, I lay in our bed wondering what your thinking while you rest your head, wondering if your dreaming of me the same way i am dreaming of you,

In a big rig
Going to Chicago
Passing little 4-wheelers
As we go on are way to Chicago
Spending time with my dad
Punch bug here punch bug there
On are way to Chicago
Passing Truck Stop 22 in Indiana

When I saw her I was amazed
Big o wheel
18 to be exact
o what a feeling
I will never have that feeling again as in stepped into my first rig
to the day I day I will always remember that day and always thank my dad for it

Me and that old bulldog been traveling up-n-down these lonely highways together a mighty long time now. Counting mile sticks, marking time, just like best friends, you could say.

Why I remember the blizzard of oh-five, yes-sir-ee, I swear that bulldog pulled those two wagons through the snow, and ice, like a Siberian husky if you ask me.

Anger, Sadness, and Fear
I am always alone
You are never here
Holding tight to the phone

If I am lucky you will get time to call
I know this is something you must do
Slowly the tears begin to fall

Dear God above bless this truck I drive
And help me keep someone alive

Be my mortal sight today
On streets where the little children play

Bless my helper fast asleep
When the night is long and deep

The title strangely enough will be at the end of this verse, and now to proceed as I have already rehearsed. I married this trucker in the Spring time you see...He said lets be together and come along with me. I worked in an office each day wearing lipstick & heels....now I bounce down the highway on a freightshakers' wheels! Even several months later I still plea: How did this all happen to little ol' me? Some days are great & some are real tense...I still hear him say "Don't you love the suspense?" What an education of life on wheels I have got.....from lumpers, axial weights and even lizards of the lot! Delivery and then many stops,...Hurry up and then wait. Will I ever again eat of a real china plate? On the C.B. I often hear those bad little guys swear....I refer them to the man who is listening upstairs. To study for the CDL license ...I think I could pass the written test...but as for the Driving part I'm Positive this is NOT of my quest. I'm still very important & even have been given a title you see....it's "Professional Product Relocater Specialist-Assistant-Trainee!"

Be they old or young,
Their sight often brighter than the noon day sun.
They are gifts to us all,
For our survival depends on the loads they haul.
Some seem just to big,
To be on the road with your little rig.

I have a warm and friendly feeling as I think of you each day.
And I wish we could visit again, but you’re many miles away.

I’ve heard you spin many a yarn and even say “you bet”

On the morn of 1971, I climbed up in my first experience, with a big truck, It was love at first feel. Soon I was leased on to a Company in Oklahoma, now it was surely my time, at the wheel. State after state, mile after mile, alert as I could be. Always held a fascination for me.

You worry not,
About things you haven't got.
The knowledge when needed,
You will have already seeded.
Your time will come,
To the beat of a different drum.
*********************************

I see the seasons pass
I see the sunrise
I see the sunset
I see the stars
I see the moon
I see happy families
I see trucks and cars
I see life going by through my Windshield

When climbing up in that rig of mine, I smile and wonder of it all. Just another load, another mile to run, another job well done. I see the beauty of each state, as I listen to my pete without hesitate. I roll on and on, lonely at times, but always aware of the warning signs. This lane that I am in, is filled with yesterdays, of sorrow and bewilderment, of things that's gone stray, today I wonder, will I make it on time, getting my load to its destination, then relaxing with a smile, I call my dispatcher, to find out what's in store for the next 400 miles. Tomorrow, is coming, though the wheels have stopped spinning for me, an accident that left me paralyzed , they thought permanently. But you know, each time I see a big rig, see that black smoke unfurl, I know that yesterday, today and tomorrow was for this girl.

I was all alone,
Just driving and talking on the phone.

Looking for the morning light,
Been behind the wheel all night.

Got only 300 miles to go,
and now its starting to snow.

I travel alone all over the road. The cars pass by, they look like bugs. I am up high in my rig, alone, stressed, tired and mad!
Cars past me by real fast. They think they own the road, but wait 'till i crush them, they will cry for mercy!

Left for my job in the city
working for the man on
a winter’s night,
out there on the dock
watching the big clock,
waiting for my load to a
better place.

18 wheels keep spinning

Young Soldier Rides Again.

It's the third of July with the moon in the
sky when Young Soldier hits the highway,

traffic gets heavy as he passes “the loop”, so his red 9 jumps on Chi-town's skyway.

Breaker, Breaker from the old CB,
I think and wonder who it could be.

I think for a minute or two,
then the voices comes back to.

Its my father from the west bound lane,
Hauling freight on his way to Maine.

Twin stacks & chicken lights,
chrome Texas bumper touches
asphalt.

Red W9 shines in the moonlight
rolling on the black ribbon home,
all cylinders pumping hard as the
big cat purrs.

Out back in the wrecking yard covered by a ton of rust

A veteran of the highway sits and slowly turns to rust

No headlights now to show the way, her windshield cracked and glazed

Trucker's be they old or young,
Their sight often brighter than the noon day sun.
They are gifts to us all,
No matter what loads they haul.
Be it food or other freight,
They each need to reach that delivery gate.

Eaglewing international,
is a group with trucking rational.
Working the rigs, so long and big.
Drivers they pay, for their exceptional way.
Loads they haul, some are big others small.
Bad weather drivers face,

As a young boy, I remember waiting, on a warm summers night
Waiting on Friday, for Dad, to return and take our family fishing, our weekend right
The 1951 Buick all loaded up with grub and gear

Money we have little,
Life often feels so brittle.
The riches I have can't be spent,
Nor measured by the cent.
Treasures I have many,
All worth a pretty penny.
None could I sell,
No matter how low I fell.

With a two hour pass,
We must stop and get gas.
As we travel on,
The CB and radio on.
An Angel passes by,
Not seen in the clear sky.
My boy offered a ride,
In the big rig, pulling to the side.

As an 18-wheeler I am a slave to the road. To deviate is to be stuck. I labor as I climb rocky towers. As darkness falls on unknown paths, I wish to stop, but there is One who guides me and has not allowed my destruction. My faith lies in His hands. He steers me when the fog engulfs me. I struggle to see, only to be blinded by my own light. However, He knows for I hum through this blinding cover. I shall trust in Him for He is awake and at work. He guides me around bends, ends of which I cannot see. For He is familiar with all roads.

As I travel west, trucking legal
well, trying to do my best
My turbo is howling, my belly a growling
A Trucker is what they call me
I travel the highways, both high and low
Where I'll be sent next I don't know

You're never alone,
No matter the distance from home.
The trails you have to take,
For loved ones you have to make.
Difficult decisions for you,
Another has already been through.
Life and death matters,

If I look but to the stars for everything I need,
they would take me places farther than the eye can see.
They would take me higher than the planes can go,
they would take me where no-one else would know.