destined destination

I sit by the side of that highway
in a gloomy, dark day
an occasional car passes by
a few stop too,
going their way on my un-response
what I doing on that lonely road-
I see questions in their stance
yet I sit there, unmindful
I look at that orange tree
which is some way from where I am
in that drab day
it seems to be the only bright thing
but I know I will get what I seek
when it gets dark,
I know night is not far away
when trucks start arriving,
it gladdens me much.
you are still driving one out there,
it has been years
but you will know me from far
this is where we first met

"truck is a journey, trucker is its pivot, I am the destination"

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

I wrote a series of trucker poems, the one before this was written one year ago. This one is a continuation. I have always wanted to go back. Do read those too along with this. All are stand alone, yet connected.

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.

journey with destination unknown

battered, mud spattered
that non-descriptive truck
was an eyesore in that highway
unmindful of waleful stares
speedily it went on
its whole chassis reverberating
it had seen better days
for the woman traveller
it had been a life saver
putting a distance between her
and her unidentified chasers
she looked askance at the trucker
whose shook his head slightly
continued with the journey
with destination unknown

each experience was one more story
added to the trucks's repertoire

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


Hop on aboard the Poetry Train and have you checked carry on tuesday yet?

tangled mess

disembodied she stared at nothing
rugged mountains loomed like giants
her designer suit looked like rags
nails chipped, filled with dirt
her tangled hair flying all over

frenzied she searched for a comb
(a woman always thinks of her hair)
finding none, she crumbled into herself
a hand found her shoulder
trucker offered her his own one

dirty though it was, she pulled it
through her unkempt hair
even the comb refused to go further
reflecting her life was in shambles
and now she was going to lose her hair

trucker took away the comb,
gently untangled it with his fingers
with a long suffering sigh
she leaned into him, disconnected
from everything but him

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

This is the third in the series of road trip poetry. All stand on their own but if anyone wants to read all, here are the links:

road trip

road trip continued

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

#Update: I dedicate my blog to Granny Smith. She is one of the best bloggers I have known. She lost her husband Otto on the 10th of May. Please do visit her and offer your condolences.

road trip continues

she lies there at the trucker's feet
with a facade like smashed orange
ignoring her whimpering
he keeps driving in the wilderness
windows shut tight, it smells of her empty
guts, intermingling with his sweat
is he her savior or her kidnapper
she is in no state to contemplate that

she closes her eyes in that darkness
watching purple light dancing bright
and carries leftover conversations
silently with her very ownself
in the twilight of wakefulness
she is jolted out when he stops
feeding her a piece of dried bread
accompanied by tepid water

'exercising a great restrain,
she feeds on it slowly, savouring each bite
in her hunger nothing has tasted so good'

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

carries leftover conversations was donated by Deb of stonemoss.org. Do check out Read Write Poem.

To read the first part of road trip, click on trucker's or here!

road trip

hunger took hold of me
I clutched at my vacuumed belly
as if to hold off the pangs
trucker refused to stop
in that wilderness lost to all but me
when I set out in that bus
with unknown people
looking out for an adventure
little did I know I would end up with
an unkempt foul mouthed trucker
plans going haywire
we were ambushed
all killed and I was left for dead
how did come I onto this stinky truck
if you called it a truck, but for the chassis
he looked askance, offered me oily nuts
smelling of motor grease. hungry that I was
I ate a handful, my stomach heaving
I retched all over him.
without batting an eye
he stopped and cleaned us both
I was so grateful like a rag doll
dignity had lost its meaning
I rolled over and slept in my own stink
no longer it bothered me
again hunger took hold of me
I clutched at my vacuumed belly
as if to hold on to the pangs


"let hell break loose, I don't care anymore"


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


I travel on dusty roads
never-ending stretch
uneven jagged edges trip me over
MY BLACK-EYED BLOODY FACE
trips you over, uneven jagged edges
stretch your never-ending tirade
I run back to dusty roads


Go join The NaisaiKu Challenge?