That wash-boarded road bottomed out my car
Every stinkin’ time I went up the mountain.
At some point, I think the car hoped I’d quit going;
If a car could hope.
I conversely hoped it never would.
Drove thru the branch at the bottom of the hill
Up the other side
Nearly draggin’ off the muffler
On the Rock.
On that wagon road
That claimed to be a real road
For modern times.
(That debate will continue)
For all travelers yet to come.
But, by God that trip was worth it all.
Worth it all.
Passing thru the gate…
Saw mill boards and a logging chain,
Threaded thru an old pipe
My God the noise would wake the dead;
Or Pappaw from his Sunday nap…
Straight back chair & swing on a chain
And hours would pass like the smooth ‘shine
We sipped
If I could’ve, I’da filled those jars with memories
But I swear I couldn’t screw the lid back on
If my life depended on it…
So, I sip now from a jar of sweet memories
And, shit, it kicks like a mule too
Just like a mule…
Author notes
I would've written this in the Applachia Mountain tounge, but no one would have understood it
A contest entry
- Let's Keep it Country by davidwright.
600 points, ended June 5, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
What memories to possess. I think I've travelled that same road a time or two to someones house as well. Thanks for yur entry. David Wright
-
The contest is closed for judging which may take two or three days. My thanks to each of you for your great entry. Happy trails.
David Wrigh -
Yes sir ree bob, hahahaha this is about as country as it gets hahaha good luck anyways, you cowboy, you...what don't your readership know about you? lol
-
-
Thanks, Pat - no, not a cowboy - maybe a ridge runner
-
Adding your comment:
