Two poems written by old trucker

Two white beams of light
piercing holes through veil of night
twin chrome pipes 13,6 high
scream black smoke up at the sky
18 wheels that rumble thunder
concrete passing swiftly under
caterpillar engine,600 horse
13 gears to stay the course
cabbage,sisters,peterbilt class
tehachapi,donner,wolf creek pass
Lightning, snow storms,dime sized hail
hurricane winds and trucker scale
truckstop,wilcox, eggs and ham
hashbrowns, toast, black coffee ma'am
for 35 years from sea to sea
my wife,my dog,my truck and me
now she likes to tend the flowers
and I'm glad theres no line for showers
we sit beneath the old oak tree
just her,the dog,and tired me
from tall and young and pretty dang stout
to gray and old and worn plumb out
Thank you Lord, for all those years
of safely shifting 13 gears
for miles and miles of memories
of my wife ,my dog,my truck and me.
Amen

  Brad dawson,Copyright,All rights reserved

Louisiana

Louisiana bayous,have this knack
Wherever you go, they call you back
You can't pin it down,to just one thing
Catfish jump,and cajuns sing
The spanish moss,blows in the breeze
Nutra play,among the cypress knees
Old man floating down the bayou slow
Jon boat,cane pole,old pireaux ( pronounced pee-row)
Catching crappie,perch,and brim
From the church up the bayou I can hear em sing a hymn
Piers that are tilted
Houses that are stilted
Young man on the bank,cause his love has been jilted
Alligator floating through the cypress trees
They're the kings of the bayou, they go where they please
Its where I was born, It's where I'll die
The bayou calls me back and I can't tell you why
It might be Voodoo, it might be a spell
Theres magic on the bayou and you're not supposed to tell
So come on down,and sit for a while
Let your heart and your soul enjoy a slower lifestyle
It clears your mind,it clears your head
You were told it was money but you've been mislead
You see happiness, can not be bought
It won't come in your check no matter what you were taught
It's in a cast iron pan ,when the fish get fried
It's at the end of the pole where the hook gets tied
It's in the warm breeze blowing,the comfort of knowing
That No matter what's wrong,the bayou keeps flowing
It aint for sale,Its nothing you can buy
Because The bayou calls you back and I can't tell you why

Brad Dawson, copyright,All rights reserved
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