Wax paper sunset limits the light
Over Western Pennsylvania
Gray skies are the order of the day
Fast setting orb brings on a premature dusk
The topography conspires to propogate this crime, too
Only occasionally does the landscape open up
From the steady stream of tall timbers lining the two-lane
Pennsylvania's own version of highway sound barriers
Plus the distant summits on the rolling hills
Block the sun first here, and then there
These hills in profile, silhouettes almost
Fade into an ever-lightening progression
Of milky gray green smudged wax papery shades
Putting a darkened pallor over the vistas
As if the state was mourning
Our departure into neighboring Ohio
In sympathy we soothe saddened Pennsylvania
Poor sister, sack-cloth-clad sibling
For the loss of our company
Still we cheer "Hurry Buckeye State"
Your arrival means we make progress
Pushing toward Cleveland, on through the night to Chicago
Tomorrow's chore will take us
Up through Wisconsin, to Minnesota and North Dakota.
Then the next day through Montana and Idaho to Washington
Areas brand new except as pages in an atlas
Oh such opportunities we know not yet awaits us tomorrow
To act as subjects sitting in a rolling thunder studio
Lending our eyes our emotions as brushes
Our memories our sensibilities as canvas
For this art class devouring at 65 miles per hour
Subjects fit for masterpieces
Oh hurry Ohio farewell Pennsylvania
Yes, alas, it's already gone now the day's light
Fast setting orb brings a premature dusk
Fare thee well wax paper sunset
Over Western Pennsylvania this night
For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
Oct. 26, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Lonely Work It Must Be
Lonely work it must be
Seems so anyway from afar
Hauling jumbo rigs all over the country
Sitting alone in a cab
Radio and CB the constant companions
Having so much power and responsibility
Handling the controls, constant reminders
To push it, use "do-the-limit" speeds
Through all kinds of weather year-round
Checking in at intervals at truck stops
Times to catch up with old buddies
Or folks who look like buddies
Feeling the pressure, trying to make a living
Put meat and potatoes on the table for a family
Finally making it home, a good job done
With little time to rest though
Having to head out to the highways
Deliver the merchandise three, four, maybe eight states away
Could be exciting, too, get to see so much
Move about this vast country, meet all kinds
Lay claim to having driven in all the Lower 48
Know a sense of accomplishment
Over coffee in the diner, driver says
"Feel like you are your own boss, mister
At least for those hours with the wheel in your bare hands
Boss man doesn't get to see all this, no sir
Feel the power, the surge, the drive
Mix it up with brother truckers at the stops"
He says looking up and down the counter, 7 a.m., Tuesday
Smiling his eyes now gaze at some vision vivid behind his glasses
"Climb those passes, cross those desserts
Plow through those storms, arrive triumphantly
In the biggest cities in the world
Or in every little heartbeat hamlet in America
Don't matter, all across the country
God, I love it...
Sure, sometimes hate it, too"
Lonely work, it must be,
Seems so anyway from afar
Hauling jumbo rigs all over the country
For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
Oct. 26, 2011
Seems so anyway from afar
Hauling jumbo rigs all over the country
Sitting alone in a cab
Radio and CB the constant companions
Having so much power and responsibility
Handling the controls, constant reminders
To push it, use "do-the-limit" speeds
Through all kinds of weather year-round
Checking in at intervals at truck stops
Times to catch up with old buddies
Or folks who look like buddies
Feeling the pressure, trying to make a living
Put meat and potatoes on the table for a family
Finally making it home, a good job done
With little time to rest though
Having to head out to the highways
Deliver the merchandise three, four, maybe eight states away
Could be exciting, too, get to see so much
Move about this vast country, meet all kinds
Lay claim to having driven in all the Lower 48
Know a sense of accomplishment
Over coffee in the diner, driver says
"Feel like you are your own boss, mister
At least for those hours with the wheel in your bare hands
Boss man doesn't get to see all this, no sir
Feel the power, the surge, the drive
Mix it up with brother truckers at the stops"
He says looking up and down the counter, 7 a.m., Tuesday
Smiling his eyes now gaze at some vision vivid behind his glasses
"Climb those passes, cross those desserts
Plow through those storms, arrive triumphantly
In the biggest cities in the world
Or in every little heartbeat hamlet in America
Don't matter, all across the country
God, I love it...
Sure, sometimes hate it, too"
Lonely work, it must be,
Seems so anyway from afar
Hauling jumbo rigs all over the country
For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
Oct. 26, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Bronco Bub
Bronco Bub aimed his four-wheel drive,
Aimed it west, aimed it home,
Headed back out to where he was born,
Back out to the wide-open great plains of Kansas
He daydreamed of home
Dust kicking up all around
Whenever he drove down that long stretch
Between the grain-silo and the four lane
Stones and pebbles flying behind him in the kick-up
Jersey had been profitable for him,
Had made the difference
Between keeping the old family farm
Even for a little while longer
And being forced to sell
His guitar, banjo, harmonica and singing voice
Had just earned him in four months
What it might take him
Years to earn
Just waiting for that fickle old harvest
To turn a big-enough profit
He'd come out after the crops were in,
Even left Cissy behind
And now he was headed back with a new head of confidence
Couldn't wait
With new skills
New contracts signed
New portfolio built
New demo tapes, recording equipment, everything he'd need
To fix that old barn out beyond the Elm, down near to lazy crick
Create some semblance of a studio
Open mikes, waiting for Bronco Bub
To pump out music, lay down tracks
The airwaves of America still don't know they've never heard yet
He was grateful to Jersey
These four months
Could mean the world
To Bronco Bub and Cissy,
And God-willing, Junior and Sis some day
Might even have a whisker of a chance to suceed
"That's all I need, Mister," he told his skeptical agent,
"This country's gonna know a lot more about Bronco Bub
'Afore I get through
You wait a see"
So Bronco Bub aimed his four-wheel drive,
Aimed it west,
Aimed it home
Aimed it proud
Aimed it confident
Headed back to where he was from
To where folks are waiting for him
Back on the wide-open great plains of Kansas
For Conversations With Walt
Denis J, Kelly
Oct. 25, 2011
Aimed it west, aimed it home,
Headed back out to where he was born,
Back out to the wide-open great plains of Kansas
He daydreamed of home
Dust kicking up all around
Whenever he drove down that long stretch
Between the grain-silo and the four lane
Stones and pebbles flying behind him in the kick-up
Jersey had been profitable for him,
Had made the difference
Between keeping the old family farm
Even for a little while longer
And being forced to sell
His guitar, banjo, harmonica and singing voice
Had just earned him in four months
What it might take him
Years to earn
Just waiting for that fickle old harvest
To turn a big-enough profit
He'd come out after the crops were in,
Even left Cissy behind
And now he was headed back with a new head of confidence
Couldn't wait
With new skills
New contracts signed
New portfolio built
New demo tapes, recording equipment, everything he'd need
To fix that old barn out beyond the Elm, down near to lazy crick
Create some semblance of a studio
Open mikes, waiting for Bronco Bub
To pump out music, lay down tracks
The airwaves of America still don't know they've never heard yet
He was grateful to Jersey
These four months
Could mean the world
To Bronco Bub and Cissy,
And God-willing, Junior and Sis some day
Might even have a whisker of a chance to suceed
"That's all I need, Mister," he told his skeptical agent,
"This country's gonna know a lot more about Bronco Bub
'Afore I get through
You wait a see"
So Bronco Bub aimed his four-wheel drive,
Aimed it west,
Aimed it home
Aimed it proud
Aimed it confident
Headed back to where he was from
To where folks are waiting for him
Back on the wide-open great plains of Kansas
For Conversations With Walt
Denis J, Kelly
Oct. 25, 2011
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