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The Dragline

THE DRAGLINE  for Pete Brett 

One hundred foot boom 
 7-½-yard bucket 
The tracks are like 
 Ones on the tracks of a tank
They go chunk clunk and clank  

Arm of the boom swings 
 Far to the left then to right  
Out casts the bucket 
 And drags the rock in 

 Papa pushes the pedals and 
 Pulls the leavers
 Lifts the cranes bucket and 
 Swings the arm in 
 Dumps the rock into
 A pile at quarry
 
Just old black Burt, Bootsie and me
We ride in the donkey a brawny little engine
Careful now Uncle Burt I ‘am heavy as can be
He’d chuckle and let me ring the dingy
 As the donkey pulled all those gondola cars
 to the rock crusher A ring ding-a-ling
 here comes the train ring ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling

Dinner would be with Uncle Red Papa and me
 by the railroad tracks a fire warm 
and perhaps we would see
 Alligator Willy who would stop by to share
 some pickled eggs, sausages and a beer
                                                                                         
 I dance in the night by the light that comes
 from cranes rear window the light that
shines from the top of the boom
                                                                                                             
My stage is a beam of square light
and I dance and I swirl as the 
beam from the top boom does
swing. It’s better than the light from the moon
 
I spin and I dance in an out of
The shadows
I see my papa’s face
Through the crane’s side window’s panel

His arm is out stretched as he
Pushes and pulls
I wave I am tired now

He jumps from the tracks and
 Lifts me back in
His face has wide goofy grin
We share chocolate milk
From a thermos and take
 Orange marmalade Sandwiches wrapped in wax paper
 which were sticky and sweet
 from his Old battered Lunch Pail 

 when my feet were all wet He took off my shoes
 and placed them by Old Mr. Murphy as his engine was called 
 Dry and warm and cozy we’d be
Papa his dog Bootsie and me
 
 Northwest the crane that he ran At Seminole Rock
 he was considered the best Crane operator-man

He worked from dark tell the sand-man
I sleep in an empty dynamite crate
Filled with a string called waste
Used to spread thick grease
by the big diesel engine at the back
of the crane 
He shuts the doors as it’s starting to 
rain

The crane growls and grumbles
and rocks me to and fro
 like in a large giant’s lap 
as I take a nap
in dreams I spin and I dance 
by the light from the boom 
it’s better than the light
 from the moon

Copyright © | Year Posted 2012




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Date: 2/14/2013 9:08:00 AM
!!!
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Date: 5/9/2012 6:41:00 AM
Thanks for the Kind words. Love your stuff...I am just a poet wanta be...JoAnne
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Date: 5/7/2012 7:59:00 AM
A warm welcome to PoetrySoup I offer to you JoAnne. I wish for you the best in your writing endeavors whatever they may be. May you find inspiration by reading some of the poetry written here by other poets. May the sun shine on you that you might find great joy in your life. Love, Carol
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Date: 5/7/2012 6:30:00 AM
Joanne great story, great memories and some great names...like this a lot..David
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