Monday, January 11, 2010

now the waiting.....

any sound gets her to the window
she knows he isn't anywhere near
went back on his way
she misses the silence-
his silence that had made her mad
she wants it back
those highways, the small stops on the way
his tattoos on his biceps
his crooked hat
the smell of gasoline
his brusque caring
his facade cemented into her
she trembles with that memory
encloses it to her extremes

"was it for the best, or was it for the worst that wild trucker had taken over?'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My date with the trucker continues. Click on it to read the rest of it. All stand alone and yet are connected.

24 comments:

Andy Sewina said...

Hi Gautami, so the narrator is missing the trucker and has taken up curtain twitching. Phew!

soMe fOOtpRinTS > >
The NaiSaiKu Challenge?

The American Sandwich game..

<3U

jaerose said...

Then go she must..Jae

sage said...

I remembered an early truck poem, but never knew you had some many. Well done, Gautami

madeline d. murray said...

Hi Guatami,

This journey with the trucker is really rich, and it's intriguing to see how you incorporate the prompts into this narrative. Nicely done.

Stan Ski said...

Some people are only ever conspicuous by their absence.

Amity said...

We only know the value or worth of a person or thing when they're gone!

Very nicely written Gautami!!!

Dee Martin said...

this for me at least, is a new side of you :)

Jeeves said...

This moves like a story and yes, I remember your earlier trucker poems!

Lorraine said...

i love how you write, you know that, alone personally I prefer being alone ;)

WrightStuff said...

Ah yes, great poem, reminds me of things and people....

Artist Victoria O'Neill said...

hey, wonder if your trucker was driving the truck in my haiku

Yousei Hime said...

Enjoyed this very much. Very strong, emotional images. Thank you for sharing it.

if said...

earthly and passionate ....so human...!

Percy Bisque Silley said...

I know his kind - once ran into a young ruffian of similar description on a visit to the states. I was then staying with a copper who resided in the Bronx...

SandyCarlson said...

I have known this kind of longing. It can be very sad and painful. Your poem is so well done. Thanks.

Julia Smith said...

'his crooked hat
the smell of gasoline
his brusque caring'

What a tough/tender man.

Americanising Desi said...

you spin my head right round and round!

I am sorry for the late arrival to Sunday Scribblings but I had to pay you a visit :)

Happy SS

Extreme 'Caution'

Walky Soto said...

I like the comment verification. It tells me that the great horror of The Singularity has not come yet.

Cassiopeia Rises said...

Nicely put Tami. I like it!



Melanie

Jim said...

Oh Tami, you've got this lady hooked up with a real man fellow!
I hope he doesn't have a girl at every dock like the sailors have one in every port.
That could slow him down in getting back to her!

This is good using all three prompts. I like to keep my things separate, food, prompts and kinds of poems, etc.

Thanks for peeking on my Haiku Bones, here is Jim's OSI
..

Lisa at Greenbow said...

Sometimes you just don't know until it is gone.

one more believer said...

the sound of a truck moving on is sometimes painful...a most enjoyable post!!!

linda may said...

Oooh yes I know the type of guy you talk about. And I know that waiting and listening too....

bellasis said...

you capture him perfectly...the smell, the tattoos, the hat..

you write so vividly, I love it.

Am never disappointed here.

Mine is up too.
Bella :)