Poems from the Road

by | May 8, 2020 | Driver News | 0 comments

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