Poems from the Road

Like many drivers, Gordon Horton has another passion. An outlet for his creativity. He says he began writing about three years ago and has published a couple of books. He says poetry “is not really my thing” but we wanted to share a couple of his poems with trucking themes, especially “Can You See Me Now?”, a reflection on the current times of the coronavirus pandemic. Thank you Gordon, for allowing us to share your work.

Can You See Me Now?

And so the time has come at last

They smile and wave as we go past

Don’t get me wrong, we’re still not heeded

It’s just that now they know we’re needed

Their hands, they must be sanitized

The things they touch, be sterilized

It’s quite the scare when shelves go bare

When products vanish Into Thin Air

So truckers roll, it’s what we do

We bring those needed things for you

While shippers lock their bathroom doors

They leave us standing on their floors

The seats are gone, the break rooms too

Because we’re Truckers, we make do

There’s places entrance can’t be gained

We’re just left standing in the rain

They sit and scratch their heads a bit

The information doesn’t fit

While water drips down off our nose

And Rain soaks deep into our clothes

You folks don’t see what we go through

To bring those needed things to you

This virus puts us to the test

We carry on just like the rest

Doctors, nurses, First Responders

Grace the lines on teleprompters

We’re proud to stand among those ranks

But other folks have earned your thanks

Grocery Clerks and all-night stockers

Pharmacist and forklift rockers

The list goes on and on my friends

Your lives on all these folks depend

But like all things this too shall pass

And once again you’ll frost the glass


Ode to the Road


By the light of the moon and the stars I ride
A chromed steel steed with a mighty stride
My box is filled from nose to tail
With medicines to make you well
The food, the clothes, the playful things
A Nation yearns for what we bring
Our freight you want, it’s us you spurn
The scorn we face, it bites, it burns
And yet no other place we’d be
Because out here, our souls are free
So I’ll run these roads with my brothers and sisters
And spend my nights out where the wind whispers