GENTRY — While looking for ideas for this week’s column, I came across some poetry I wrote while truck driving a number of years ago - yes, a fellow has to do something to occupy his time while driving mile after mile in a big truck.
I once heard a definition of truck driving over the CB radio which is quite true: “Truck driving is hour upon hour of pure boredom interrupted by brief moments of sheer terror.” I can testify to the fact that this is true. I tried to avoid the brief moments of sheer terror, but to help pass the long hours of pure boredom and loneliness, I on occasion wrote poetry to the sound of the big wheels rolling down the highway.
Most of what I’ve written is probably lost since I usually scratched it out with a pencil on a note pad while bouncing down the road. What shaky notes I didn’t rewrite in more legible form when I stopped for abreak even I couldn’t figure out after a few days had passed. But I did come across a few short poems I wrote to help pass the time. They may not be good and certainly don’t fit all the rules of good poetry, but they are a testimony to the fact that truck drivers can be poets too.
My Occupation What is your job, your occupation?
How do you earn a buck?
Oh, I’m a business traveler; Travel every day with luck! I sit up high, way above the rest, Above doctor, lawyer, clerk.
I service accounts for customers.
Yep, me? I drive a TRUCK!
Late Fall Trees The trees that budded out in green, In whose leaved branches birds did sing,Whose golden colors joy did bring, Now stand barren until next spring.
Wanting to Ride Off As I, moving down highway see Grass covered hills summoning me, I just want to mount and ride, And ne’er return, but there abide.
But as I dream of riding off, I’m troubled by some nagging thoughts: I don’t even have a horse;
And to learn to ride, I’d need a course.
History’s Lesson There’s a lesson to be learned from history: Men live, they work, they die, And enter into eternity.
Their life is but a sigh!
And their works and lives are soon forgot By we who live and share their lot.
But if we’d learn this lesson taught, We might not live our lives for naught.
While truck driving, I passed plenty of old houses on the prairie with storiesto tell if only they could speak. One in particular prompted “This Old House.” This Old House Someone lived here once, But now this house is old and empty.
Once, the sounds of love and laughter.
Now only wind through broken rafter.
My house too is growing old.
Soon it no more my soul shall hold.
But then the sounds of love and laughter Shall be mine fore’er in great hereafter.
On Being With You When you are with me, Life is so nifty.
But when you’re not, Life’s not so hot.
When you are along, Life is a song.
But when you’re away, It’s such a sad day!
When you I can hold, Life’s joys are bold.
When you I can’t touch, Life sure isn’t much.
When you I must leave, I start to grieve.
When to you I can come, I start to run.
When I am alone, I hurt to the bone.
When your arms I feel, I start to heal.
Your love is to me The best place to be.
Your love’s tender touch, I need it so much!
Wayfarer’s Prayer O LORD, I pray, please bless this day, And keep me safe along life’s way.
Bring me home to those I love By Your power from above. Remind me of your gracious Word.
By it may my heart be stirred.
Cleanse and wash my sins away Through the blood of Christ alway.
And when at last my life is through, Grant me a place in heaven with You.
For then, when earth’s brief day is past, With You I shall know joy that lasts.
Again I’m Here Dear LORD God, again I’m here.
To Your presence I draw near.
Undeserving though I be, Jesus shed his blood for me. Hear the prayers that I say. Cleanse and wash my sins away.
Though Thy judgment will cause tears, Jesus has removed my fears.
Lead me through life’s little day, Till in heav’n with You I stay! Hope in Christ I’d like to live in a perfect world, without sickness, death and pain;
In a world where everyone would from all evil and hate refrain.
I’d like to live my whole life through without trouble, sweat and toil.
But these, my aspirations all, each day the world does spoil.
Should I be surprised - the least bit shocked - at all of this life’s trouble?
Should I lament o’er each my dreams which now lie burst like a bubble?
Or should I acknowledge that Genesis verse: Which says, due to sin, this world’s under curse?
And if now under curse, as the Bible does say, Place hope in Christ, and a far better Day?
Opinion, Pages 5 on 02/03/2010