National Poetry Writing Month - April 27, 2014

I heard a reading of Carl Sandburg's "Chicago" and it was amazing on a couple of levels. First, it's a brilliant piece of literary art. You can hear what I heard on Soundcloud. Second, it's about what I consider the most impressive and amazing city in the entire country. And it made me think about my own little hometown in Kansas where I grew up. So this is about the city where I was born and raised and lived for the first 18 years of my life.

In Praise of T-Town

Grass and trees bend to the breeze

Blowing across the prairie and into the cities

No mountains to stop it from whipping the hair

From your face and the hat from your head

My home was not on the range

A modest little one story story on the southwest side

Of a city that by comparison to others

Can barely be called a city

It was my whole world for my beginning life

I knew every nook and cranny of the park

Could ride a bike from one neighborhood to another

And never be on a main street

Friends lived within walking distance of me

Our families knew each other and there was trust

That if you were bad at their house

You'd be in trouble at yours

Growing up we were shielded from the horrors

Of big city life. No real crime or poverty

On our side of the city

That was a northerly problem, and more so outside of us

The more I looked around

The city where I was at, the more I realized

That there was more to be seen outside

Of it's small town limits

1991 - war divided my high school along it's lines

Hawks and doves swooped through the campus

You were either for the soldiers and their mission

Or you were against. There was no middle

I knew then that I had to get out

I knew then that I was going to leave this smallish place

And never return to live again

Not ever

By the time I was 18, I had already enlisted

My fate was set with Uncle Sam and his ilk

13 weeks there, and the remainder of 4 year

Solidified my decision as the right one

I have been back only a few times since leaving

There is a slight sense of nostalgia

But no burning desire to return and stay

My place is now outside of that place. Forever

National Poetry Writing Month - April 20, 2014

Tonight, I came as close as I ever want to to seeing someone get hit by a commuter train. I've seen the aftermath more than once, and I know I will see more and more as the years go by. But I hope I never actually see someone get hit.

Too Close For Comfort

Sitting near the tracks, I watch the world pass by

Car and pedestrians on their merry ways

Enjoying a pleasantly warm Easter evening

All hopefully headed home to families and the night

Down come the barricades, flashing lights and bells

All of the cars stop. After all, I'm right there

Women with strollers pause at the line

The rotating light on the engine passes us by, north to the next stop

The fiberglass arms stay down; the bells and lights stay on

Another train approaches, this one from the other direction

It's not an express, it's speed isn't that great

But a seven car train and engine doesn't stop on a dime

I hear the whistle blare out it's warning tone

I see the now sweaty and fear-stricken face running

Across the tracks. As the train approaches

He makes it with feet to spare

When the cars clear out and the mothers are gone

I pull up to the man and think for a second

How badly should I berate him

For his nearly deadly error in judgement?

One look at his face tells me that it's probably not needed

His eyes are wide and glassy; there are beads of moisture on his brow

He knows that he is lucky tonight

Maybe the luckiest man in the entire city tonight

We speak for a couple of minutes and I send him away

A bit wiser now that he's cheated death

And on his way to the store on the corner he goes

To pick up whatever sundry items he'd been sent for

Back in my car I'm as grateful as he is

Not that I was almost killed by tons of steel this night

But that I wasn't witness to his death this night

And that our lives go on as they were before the train passed us by

National Poetry Writing Month - April 13, 2014

Here it is, a lazy, rainy, Sunday afternoon. I finished up crossing my eyes to get the work schedule completed for the month. It's a mess, to say the least. We run pretty close to minimum staffing at my workplace, and when someone is out sick, it makes it even tighter. Well, we have one guy out on an extended injury leave and a second is out with his newborn baby. Which makes for some long days for some, and extra days for others.

Pair that with the rain and I end up looking like the bad guy for forcing folks to work. Such is the life of the supervisor.

It Can Be Lonely At The Top

For the overall good

I have to do "bad"

To keep the honcho happy

I make others mad

Our hands are so short

That we can't reach the light

Working long days

And some extra nights

The moaning and groaning

I can already hear

Some soft as a kitten

Some piercing my ear

But until we are more

We'll make due with less

And the paper of working

Will look like a mess

National Poetry Writing Month - April 6, 2014

Almost a whole week into this and I think I'm getting the hang of it. This one will be about friends that I haven't seen in about 20 years, but will be reuniting with this summer. It's a trip that I am looking forward to very much.

...And It Feels So Good

So see these men and women again is something that 

I never thought would happen. 

Brothers and sisters in arms

From my youth. My glory days gone past

Technology keeps us connected

Up to date and in the know

With the wives and husbands and children

But thousands of real miles separate us all

Vacations could be made

For one on one meetings and reminiscing

To sit on porches or in restaurants

And laugh and remember the good time

And the bad times as well

We weren't always as wise as we are now

Then, we were young and brash

Headstrong, if not smart

But vacations are fleeting and short

Like this one will ultimately be

Only a few days to say hello

And then it's goodbye again

For who knows how long

Before we see each other in the real world

I am looking forward to seeing them all again

Even if for only a small while

October 16-17, 2011 - 0715

I titled it that way because it's actually being written several days later. My work PC was acting wonky, and I meant to put this out when I got home, but other things took up my time. Vet appointment with the dog, sleeping only 2 hours or so. It was quite a day. But so were my first two nights of duty. I took off the second two for training.

Pro Tips


Take the advice of a veteran
About 14 years a veteran
When I offer you a chance
Take it

I watched you and your friend
You walked out - staggered out
He got behind the wheel, fired it up
You stood at the curb, whipped it out
That's when we needed to talk

I asked you why
You denied it
I showed you a river of urine
You denied it

Name and birthday made you 18
And drunk. Now I'm angry
Not at you so much - at the bar
Bartender specifically

You said no ID - until I saw it
Now I'm mad at you
You lied to me
Shame, shame, shame

Your friend - too drunk to drive
Or speak coherently
Until the handcuffs go on
Then it's perfectly loud and clear

PRO TIP - If I give you a chance
Take it
Be honest
Don't pee outside

Night two was opposite night
Polite, cooperative, stable
Also drunk as a skunk
Be honest

"I had six beers"
His tests didn't seem like six
His breath said six
At least six, maybe a couple more

He called his wife for a ride
She hung up on him
Twice
Third time, she agreed to get him

PRO TIP #2 - if your wife says
Come home. Listen to her
You honesty is with with me
It goes even further with her

September 25, 2011 - 0450

It was an uneventful last nights of my four day rotation. Which was a nice contrast to the craziness of the first night. Once in a while is fine, but I'm glad it isn't every night like we had the other night. We had a couple of calls, but one stuck out in my head. The poor guy has an extensive history with law enforcement, but that wasn't the real issue.

Fall Has Fallen, And Call Volume Has Too


As I sat in my office on a cool dark night
I wondered to myself, what should I write?
I didn't stop cars, I made no arrests
The usual drunkards were not acting like pests

There was the new issue with my assigned car
The steering was failing, so I didn't drive far
Or even too fast, in case it went out
And it certainly will, of that there's no doubt

We finally got called to a loud argument
My partner and I by the radio sent
But when I arrived there was no domestic
But only a man on a phone talking hectic

I stayed by myself and asked what was wrong
And was greeted by yelling and spit flying long
But it wasn't at me and wasn't his fault
A tumor caused volume control loss

We spoke a great deal and his problems were deep
He'd been victimized by the company he'd keep
The systems were bad and he had no support
From doctors, police or even the court

Thirty minutes I let him vent his frustration
Hoping that somehow it would help his situation
And when seemed calmer I said my farewell
Hoping he'd find some respite from his hell

As I got in my car I thought of my life
My home and my dogs and my loving wife
It made me feel grateful for all that I've got
And a little bit sad for a man who did not

September 18, 2011 - 0415

I was given a pleasant surprise when I got in to work this evening. Four of us for the night shift. FOUR! Amazing! Of course, two were part time and one was the regular guy who does as little as possible. But this night, we were all actually trying to get into something. It just wasn't in the cards I guess, since we all came up empty. I did notice while I was getting my car washed that I had put 102 miles on the car in three days. It made me a little bit angry at myself, that in all of those miles I couldn't come up with anything. Maybe tomorrow.

Where Did I Really Go?


There was a bumper crop of cops in town
Four, up from three, up from two
A quarter of the town is still inaccessible by car
But, we made do

I tried to increase my numbers
It's not easy when you can't drive the streets of your own town
I was able to stop two cars
But nobody I stopped was a problem

Where I work isn't that big
Only 0.6 miles square
Yet, somehow I put
102 miles on the car in three days

Depending on what route I'd drive
That's a trip to Chicago and back
in the space of 0.6 miles square
I've driven a lot with nothing to show

August 14, 2011 - 0500

The end of the work week brought a fairly slow night. And for a Saturday, that was a surprise. College students are starting to arrive in town now, and foot traffic is picking up as well. But so far, everyone is being good...for now.

Tonight I wrote a Goethe Stanza poem. It isn't so much the rhyme or meter, but the presentation. You will be able to see it easier than I could explain it.

Short Handed, Slow Night


It's good I worked, with a man out sick

Even though one could have handled the town
He'll burn himself like a candles wick

Busy, sick or slow...don't be a clown

He was so drunk he could barely stand

Blood dripping from a split elbow
Medics arrived and lent a hand

Where it happened he doesn't know

Form a residential caller a noisy party

I had to shut off my car to hear
A band far away was playing hearty

But were at a bar, no where near here

July 3, 2011 - 0500

It's the end of my work week. Warm, humid, and a town filled with crazy drunkards. Or as I call them, job security.

As I was driving around near the time that the bars close, I began to reflect on what I had seen, smelled, heard, etc., throughout the night. And this list poem is a short recalling of the things that assaulted my senses in the first half of my shift tonight. The link isn't exactly what I was looking for, but the opening paragraph gives a good definition of list poetry.

What My Senses Sensed


What I Saw Tonight:
 - drunks on bicycles
 - puddles of puke
 - arguing idiots
 - putting up their dukes

What I Heard Tonight:
 - yelling and screaming
 - fireworks popping
 - beer bottles breaking
 - flower pots dropping

What I Smelled Tonight:
 - lots of perfume
 - burnt gunpowder
 - sweat and anger
 - and, I think, clam chowder

What I Tasted Tonight:
 - ice cold water
 - humid night air
 - and occasional hints
 - of little dog hair

What I Felt Tonight:
 - sweat under armor
 - cool breeze in my "hair"
 - happy for my Friday
 - and that my Baby will be here

June 26, 2011 - 0510

I did the best that I could tonight. I stopped cars, I talked to people, but it was not meant to be for me. I'm not upset, because someone got arrested. I just wish I could have caught them.

I also attempted to write tonight's poem in the dactyl style. Again, I did the best that I could, but I started to fall asleep while hand writing this one, so if it isn't in the exact syllabic form, it wasn't for lack of trying. But, poetry to me isn't "sticking to the form". It's expressing what you want with words.

UNTITLED (Dactyl)


All for nil. I made my rounds
Along the streets in my town

Hunting for me doesn't mean guns
Catching a drunk is my fun

Tail lights and tires spin - all for nil
By the third stop, I've had my fill

Calling in drunks after they've left
Does not make me give your next call heft

One arrest made, drunk driver caught
Car towed, him processed , then forgot

I stop for a "fight" but away they run
They did not want to to join their fun

June 12-13, 2011 - 0515

Wow. That's all I can really say. Yesterday was busy from the jump off. Call after call and person stop after person stop and car stop after car stop. It all added up to my not being able to write anything down in verse form, only in notes on a Post-it. But now, here it all is, covering two days.

By request, this is a semi-epic poem written in as close to iambic pentameter as I could manage.

Epic Saturday Epic


Gather round children and hear my story
Of three men, then two, all bound for glory
Well, maybe not glory but loads of fun
With action for all o'er hither and yon

As I and he spoke all about crashes
Suspicious cars drove away like flashes
Southern folks partied well into the night
'Til coppers showed up and gave them a fright

But then comes a call, a man who is armed
Brandished a dagger, yet no one was harmed
Description goes out. We canvass the town
As we looked high and low, he was not found

We drive slow laps with our eyes wide open
To catch the rogue man was what we were hopin'
And standing by office were three young men
Not knowing the trouble they'd soon be in

With a snort and a sneer as I drove by
The wrong thing for them was to catch my eye
Stood up, patted down and riot act read
We tried to talk sense into their young heads

One was familiar, a call from last week
Into his turmoil we'd had a peek
We shooed them away; no time for these kids
Packs on their backs, on their heads crooked lids

I drove and I saw a car with no lights
Hoping for drunkard to make my young night
Wrong tags on car, and he stopped to the left
Just a kid. The car from his folks, a gift

After lecture I sent the young one home
To the safety of family well known
Back to my town to hunt still on-going
What was left for us? We were not knowing

I was north, it south. Faster than needed.
Right without stopping, 'til my lights pleaded
And up on the curb the tires did stop
I smelled weed and booze under hair like mop

Laughing and crying she did all my tests
At the end in my handcuffs she did rest
The sticky bud found in false snakeskin bag
With liquor a cause for her judgement lag

Refusal of test and she's out the door
The paperwork piling up more and more
And the calls keep coming without a stop
Running us ragged; we thought we'd drop

from the nights busy pace and no lunchtime
With open door called from neighboring town
Called off before showing up at the door
A very late meal. I wished there were more

The next night, so calm. It was very nice
Repeats on some rummy's did make me smile
No calls for knives or weapons this evening
Only two cars stopped, while they were leaving

If this is our summer it should be fun
We'll be safe and be strict with everyone
People will know that in our little town
That jail's where you go when acting the clown

May 22, 2011 - 0510

I'm not sure what to call tonight's verses. It's kind of a song, kind of an ode, kind of a lyric poem. Hmm... You're all grown folks, you can decide for yourselves.

There were lots and lots of pickled pedestrians out tonight, and I quickly found out why. Fortunately, they were all good people just out for a good time.

It Wasn't So Bad, This Night


Driving in was fine, no worries about my night
My town was fairly busy, with lots of cars in sight
I noticed groups of people on the sidewalks to and fro
Wondering to myself I ask "Where can these drunkards go?"

After changing from my day to eve I wandered up the stairs
The afternoon shift sat un-tensed, the work no longer theirs
I asked about the people out, and why there were so many
The answer that I got shown bright, just like a brand new penny

Pub Crawl

There were pods of eight to ten, with one the sober driver
He was spotted in the group, a sad and bitter sight there
Or if they all were drinking deep, a car they did not use
The taxi men made all their money from the denizens of booze

Pub Crawl

Alas all things come to an end, and this was no exception
Two hours past the witching bells was like a post-convention
Streets and walkways that once held many now were cold and bare
Power walkers and power drinkers had left the city fair

Pub Crawl

I drove the town all up and down until I could no more
Stopping in at a pub that's safe I talked to people at the door
At one time they'd had a century's worth of happy drunken faces
Now the bar stools all sat empty, here and at other places

Pub Crawl

To my right I heard the voices, shrill and slurred with drink
"I'll drive my car!" and "No you won't!" was the reason for the stink
Partner and I made presence felt and they walked home in disgust
Better that than take the ride for a stupidity bust

Pub Crawl

To reason with long forgotten gangsters was easier than thought
Asked to leave, they hit the road. A battle quickly fought
Inside the bar past closing time was another kind of pickle
Spotlights and some angry words, not at all meant to tickle

Pub Crawl

Despite the ending the week was good and had ended well
No injuries or death or or angry people were brought in on a swell
My break is here, but I'll be back with more stories and more rhyming
There's always something to put on paper, even if wrecked by the timing

May 15, 2011 - 0520

A little late, but not due to technical errors. We had some late night/early morning fun time which kept me from getting to the notebook in a timely manner. But now I'm here, it's done and I can pass the wordy goodness on to you.

I was thinking that I would try a burlesque poem, but I'm not sure I captured the spirit of the form. It's supposed to take a serious subject and treat it in a humorous way. I looked for examples on other sites and many that I found weren't at all humorous. Some were actually pretty grim. So, maybe I did since there isn't any structure or rhyme sequence.

Running In The Rain


I can't be upset when he doesn't show up
And another has taken his place
The difference in experience alone
Is more than enough when I don't see his face

Try as I could I just can't get upset
When the next town's coppers get theirs
Barely able to stand she was whisked far away
With  rain droplets in her greazy hairs

All over our town in the drizzle and cold
Looking for the one magic stop
Headlight? No. No lights on? No.
All the while the temperature continued to drop

The overtime guards were changed halfway through
Experience giving way to youth
A lawyers office was found unsecured in the dark
With all of their working exposed, that's the truth

Mist and cold and drizzly drips
Increased until it was rain
Not making our night expire any faster
But enough to keep a spring in our hips

May 8, 2011 - 0500

What a night. It started off slow and quiet. Sure there were lots of people in town, but everyone was curious but well behaved. That all ended at about 0100, when it seemed like all Hell broke loose. Call after call after call. It makes the night go by, but it's also a little harrowing.

It's a free verse night, because it felt like the way to get everything out and sorted. The events depicted here all took place between about 0100 and 0330.

This Is Policing


While on the phone with my wonderful wife
The call came out, a man with a knife
We sped right in, taking chances to save a life

The call it turned out was not legit
And one cop was assaulted by a drunken git
Too much booze and no humor for the obviously lit

Back to a stop where a little drunk man
Waited patiently with cell phone in hand
He wanted to drive, but we ended that plan

He phoned a friend and I answered a call
For a bearded one-eyed man who'd enthralled
The passers at the train station wall

Smelling of piss and hump backed like a whale
We pawned him off on a neighboring trail
Not into our cars would he place his tail

From there it was back to the main part of town
Lap after lap, I went round and round
Asking skateboarding kids to take care and not to fall down

Once more by the bar and away again
And there on the sidewalk in front of all men
A rummy was peeing, the asphalt and urine did blend

His birthday it was, 21 by two hours
I had him zip up and told him not to cower
A check and a smile sent him back to his college tower

Now it was three and the bars were all closing
Rowdy loud drunks on the walk ways are mosing
Loud voices ring out, two drunkards are nose to nosing

One kissed the ex-girlfriend right on the lips
And had placed his hands upon her hips
We shooed them away and after made a few choice quips

Finally a fire alarm at a new condo-plex
Awakening firemen who looked fairly vexed
It was nothing I'd soon find out via text

Just as I was about to have lunch
The radio crackled with traffic a-bunch
Someone asleep in their car. Drunk? It's a hunch.

Sober and happy the man was just tired
Sent on his was so from his jobs he not fired
Walking, not driving, because no license was where he was mired

A couple more laps and finally repast
The action had ceased, it just couldn't last
Being tired is now the thing of which I'm aghast

May 1, 2011 - 0500

Tonight was a nice, warm and breezy evening. There were lots of people about, but try as we may we just couldn't get into anything. But we did have a few items of note, and I bring them to you in the form of a Terza rima. It took me a minute to get used to the rhyme scheme, as there is a hold over from the previous stanza. But once I got used to it, it was fairly easy to adhere to.

First Good Warm Night


My night started the way most first nights start
With ranting and raving about himself
The anger's his way of shielding his heart

I left fairly early, words on a shelf
Behind new apartments a drunkard slept
Peaceful, face down in the dirt like an elf

We helped him inside, to his home he crept
The door was too heavy, or he too drunk
To the bed he fell, in the bed he slept

Our main source of trouble, filled with young punks
But nary a call did we respond to
Often it's our source for those who're skunk drunk

At bar close there's action, men in a fight
Camera phones took pictures, as we took charge
Just friends they were, no melee this night

One car stopped in hopes a drunkard be found
And a second in straight away fashion
Neither panned out, they were shoo'ed from town

High hopes we had for some kind of action
The first good warm night had no drunk passion