Best Dispatcher Poems
Foggy mists slither through the highlands
As downdrafts force them to the riverbanks
To the naked eye ethereal warm icicles
Among tow’ring long-needle pines piercing sky
From the other side near the rustic cabin
The yawning night watchman waits the 7:30
Preparing to hand off the latest dispatches in
A leather satchel, the hook catching its strap
The silent river valley comes alive screeching
Then wanes to deadly silence, the fog lifting
As he prepares to hand over to the day shift
Driving the winding road home, sleepy-eyed
written October 29, 2021
Within The Trenches
911 Dispatcher Tribute
Nine one one, What's your emergency? Keeps replaying in her head.
When she lays down at night and she can't sleep instead.
Her mind keeps going backwards to when her heart began it's fall.
Memories of the other end the night she got the call.
She could hear a woman screaming, was it a husband and a wife?.
Then she heard the gunshot the night a woman lost her life.
There were many times before when on a call she'd wait.
But she prayed she'd never see the call that came too late.
Nine one one, What's your emergency? He said into the phone.
“I can't find my mommy and I think I'm here alone”.
He tried to reassure her and to keep her on the line.
One more family murdered there wasn't enough time.
So he lives his life these days beneath a blanket of the shame.
As he now bears the burden of his own misplaced blame.
The rise and fall of all mankind right from the very start.
Buried deep within the trenches inside a dispatchers heart.
Praying still with all their heart someday the world will see.
All that's taking place today is not how it has to be.
Like a ship safe in the harbor still subject to the fall.
Each day a brand new heartache as they're witness to it all.
Depravity in someones mind who's passions have run wild.
Buried in a shallow grave, now remnants of a child.
Haunted by what's taken place they never will be free.
As they wait for the answer to, what's your emergency?
Edwin C Hofert
my dreams were not meant to be caught
nor horded to be worshiped in secret
No, no "Dream Catchers" for me
my dreams fly free
from the recesses of my mind
where they are caught
in my internal "dream catcher"
which was meant to bind
for fear that should they escape
and materialize into reality
they'd be ridiculed and abused
misused by the confused
who do not even know
what a dream was meant to be
they'd vaporize and die
there before my very eyes....
from this very place, they rise
freedom bound
unbound
they seek the skies
Aurora displayed to be found....
"Dream Catchers" are not for me...
I am the Dream Dispatcher
You heard me....
the dream and reality Matcher,
I'm the dream scheme of success Catcher
the "ride the wave" Snatcher
taste ebullience Latcher
Dream stuck to catcher...
Detacher
Yes....that's me
Dreams were meant to fly free
Transience of life
has made me see
There is no other way for me
to be
"Dream Catchers" are for fools,
and I surely am not one of those
Are You?
Eileen Manassian
A Drunk Talking To A Taxi Dispatcher
Come and get me on the corner
Of walk and
Don't
Search That Bus (6 Lines or Less) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Miranda Hawley
Hey gals and gents
Keep busing along every little step
From stop to stop every little step counts
Be following your ABC's
And crossing your T's
For no Amber gets left behind