00/04/10

Nothing new here, but for a change I wrote a couple of poems.
 
 

Plank owner

I showed him that not all the young men had forgotten

An old man shuffled into my firehall
his daughter and granddaughter with him
Gazing, overwhelmed in the cavernous bays
the waiting trucks sitting there
Impassive
Strong
Confident
Whispering so only he could hear
“Welcome home”

He was an original
in the days when the members built the firehall
when men hawked black phlegm as they fought for their neighbors
I was embarassed for him that his daughter treated him like a doddering old man
she seemed confused that I treated him with honor
He shuffled slow
he mumbled
His hands shook, he didn’t hear so well
But his eye still held the gleam that measured and gauged
He had been there
we had been to the same places

As he was leaving
I thanked him for all his work
I told him that men like me were here because of men like him
It took some effort but he stood taller when he shook my hand
There was still strength in his grip

We understood one another
We knew we had looked at the same flames on different nights
Hauled the same hoses into different houses
Drove the same roads hearing different sirens
Felt the same fear
to his daughter he was an old man who had never been anything other than a dad
his granddaughter saw a nice old man
I saw the warrior they couldn’t
because, maybe I’m one too

As he left he said “The trucks are  different”
I said “But the men are the same”

The honor was mine when he looked me in the eye and said

“Yes they are”
 

Auto ex

I watched a portly old man last night
bald, overweight, aging, past his prime..

He was transformed last night to a  knight of old
Turnout gear in place of armor
Lukas Jaws replaced a sword
a wrecked car for a dragon
and a damsel in distress

I watched the sweat roll off his nose as his spreaders bit the door
his lips curled, teeth bared
his hatred a pure, raw, living thing

Whimpers beyond the door
blood, wild eyes, pleading

A growl escapes him, his eyes narrow

This man
this grandfather
a big gentle man
turned feral
his lips moving in silent curses
loathing the steel
tossing the jaws from point to point
prying
spreading
working
fighting

He snarled deep in his throat as the door began to yield
A bang like a pistol shot as it opened
rescuers moved past as he dropped the jaws,

he siezed the door in his hands and bent it backward, out of the way
and spat on it as he finished
he left it there, a carcass

Once again a fat, old man
A bit past his prime
sitting puffing, sweating on the tailboard

It never had a chance though
the wreckage might have resisted the tool, for a time
but it could never resist that old man
 

Let me know what you think

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