Poetry: Ode to the American Motel
I'm not much of poet, but I am an avid journal-keeper. When just jotting down my feelings isn't quite enough I often feel compelled to find rhythm and rhyme. There's nothing quite as satisfying as feeling form and content click together into a finished piece, even if it's just something that makes me smile years down the road.
(Me, driving. Photo Credit: @juddylovespizza)
I wrote this poem after spending six weeks on the road in America, falling in love with the in-between parts of my native land and also with my co-pilot, who I went on to marry. We rarely stayed anywhere more than a night, and we almost always stayed in the cheapest motel we could find at the end of the day. While we had a few hair-raising experiences, for the most part it was a pure and joyful escape.
(Me, navigating. Photo Credit: @juddylovespizza)
For your entertainment....
Ode to the "No-Tell Motel"
Oh Comfort Inn! Econolodge! Best Western and Motel 6!
You shine, awaiting in the night
the travelers who get their kicks
on 66, or 101, 95, into the sun
they drift, 'Back East' or flee 'Out West'.
Americans! As they are best
rolling down the asphalt paths
in search of freedom, peace,
or better yet, a place to sleep.
A tidy room, a well-made bed
a door that locks, a showerhead.
A gatekeeper who, with a smile
will secrets keep and without trial
assure you that you’ll rest awhile.
The “no-tell motel,” by the hour–
roach-infested, hairy shower.
“Don’t touch the sheets,” they squeak in fear
“something bad has happened here!”
So stay away, so much the better.
Those who follow to the the letter
Yelp reviews and guidebook warnings
may stay clean, but also boring.
The Hilton, Ritz or Paramount
five-star, louche, they care about
things like “service,” “luxury”
and internet that comes for free.
Yes, the sheets may be more soft,
the concierge is better quaffed,
but there’s a lot just to be said
for moments when the road has led
to places quite unexpected.
A late-night search, a dying phone
an empty tank, a driver’s groan
when all at once the sign appears–
“Oh thank god! Let’s just stop here.”
I have driven coast to coast
not once but twice, that’s more than most
in Boston, Austin, NYC
in Georgia and the Big Easy
in Fargo, Cameron, and LA
in towns I never meant to stay.
Motels have brought me warmth and peace
strange characters, to say the least
haunted rooms and mystery shops
dead cockroaches, ticking clocks.
“Smoking, if you have it please.”
Signs say, “Reuse! let’s save the trees!”
A world apart, these ghastly havens
a place where even those forsaken
by the world, no home, no plan
can rest a moment, find dry land.
The road is lonely, dark and deep
when miles have passed, it’s time to sleep
the motel beckons, blazing bright
and I know where I’ll stay tonight.
--Donovan, 2015
Have you ever stayed in a motel you can't forget? Ever driven across the USA, or your own home country? Have rhyming itch you love to scratch? Let me know in the comments!
For someone who claims low poetry skill you are pretty good. Better than most of the coffee house crap I've been subjected to. Got any music to go with it?
Trust me, I'm a doctor.
Hah, thanks! I am proud of this one, if I do say so. Wish I were the type to write music for it, it would make a good neo-folk tune :)
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Wonderful poem/story. I do love the idea of travelling, as you say, through the in-between places. And the cheaper motel, whilst making the journey more affordable, also adds to the interest factor. I can imagine the stories you could tell after a few dozen of them.
very cute poem and exciting travel. I've done it quite a few times myself and it is definitely interesting. happy trails, your fellow STEEMengineer, Casandra
wow man this is great
Rythme and Rhyme ! you rock