This is the first rough draft of a set of verses that popped into my head while I was waiting for my wife at the supermarket. I wrote the lines in a journal before I lost them altogether. I'm told that other writers musicians and poets keep something handy to record their ideas and until now I always maintained I'd remember it, not so. By writing these things down you are able to conjure up the inspiration of that moment, and begin where you left off.
I would like to challenge anyone whose interested to play around with it and make it better.
If you are inclined paste your version in the comments section below. As for the copyright aspect of it, I will surrender that for as far as I'm concerned this is out in the ether now and anyone can have access to it.
Papa was a trucker
and he drove a Bulldog Mack
Mumma rode the sleeper
They would overnight to Sydney
and tomorrow they'd be back
They carted fruit and veg and fridges
The load would never change
And late at night it happened
On the great Dividing Range
Five hundred horses snorting
The load was high and wide
they felt the door swing open
Satan joined them for the ride
Lightning flashed around them
And made the mountains white
Wipers swept swept away the rain
But Satan steered the rig that night
Mumma screamed out tractor
A huge shape without a light
Papa swung the wheel to miss it
But Satan's grip was tight.
Too late they clipped the tractor
and sent it or'e the side
The mack followed like a magnet
When Satan took his ride
On on her deathbed wheezing
Mumma prayed to stop the squeal
Of demons dancing gaily
When Satan took the wheel.
Okay Terry, I've taken the challenge and played with this a bit to keep the rhythm and meter consistent. I'm one of those who advocate keeping a note pad and pen handy at all times and you poem bears out the wisdom in this because it would have been difficult to remember this poem in its entirety until you got home. Another reason the have notebook handy is because often we just have the germ of an idea but by writing this down other words flow in natural progression in a way that may never happen if you're trying to retain the original idea for a length of time.
ReplyDeletePapa was a trucker
And he drove a Bulldog Mack
While Mumma rode the sleeper
Up and down that highway track
They carted fruit and veggies
The load would never change
Till that night when they were crossing
The great Dividing Range
Five hundred horses snorting
The load was high and wide
Then they felt the door swing open
And Satan joined them for the ride
Lightning flashed around them
painting mountains white
and while Wipers swept away the rain
Satan steered the rig that night
Mumma saw it bearing down
A huge shape without a light
And Papa swung the wheel to miss
But Satan's grip was tight.
Too late they clipped the tractor
and sent it over the side
Mack following like a magnet
For this was Satan’s ride
And on her deathbed, praying
Mumma begged to stop the squeal
Of demons dancing in the flames
When Satan took the wheel
I love what youve done with it Merlene, I hope we get some other takers.
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