Best Fire Truck Poems
Jingle, jingle... jingle
As we emptied our piggy-banks
Hoping we saved up twenty five cents
Every Saturday afternoon, we would excitedly wait
Twelve O'clock sharp the bells would ring
Screen doors flew open when we heard them
The kids in the neighborhood...
Immediately stopped doing whatever they were doing
Whether the boys were flipping baseball cards or shooting marbles
Or the girls were playing Hop-Scotch or dressing Barbie dolls
We all ran to the corner of Craig street at noon
"All Aboard" yelled the fire chief
"Drop your quarters in the box and have a seat
Don't worry folks, this old jalopy runs well"
He was referring to the little red fire truck
It was rebuilt and custom made just for children to ride in
We cruised the back streets with our hands held high; screaming
'round every bend...we laughed
Tails wagged as dog's chased behind
Putt, putt... putt
"Ride over children, exist to the rear...
See you next weekend" the fire chief yelled
The Old Jalopy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
7-22-2019
With flashing lights, the fire truck
Moved speedily my way.
The hose was tucked in tightly,
Waiting for its chance to spray.
The driver, in his helmet,
Kept a fixed and steady gaze
While the siren blared so they would make it
Quickly to the blaze.
My toddler grandson watched in awe
As it went zipping by,
Excitement lighting up his face -
No need to wonder why.
We'd watch that scene repeat itself,
Before the day was through,
At least a hundred times because
The batteries are new!
Whenever I said green light, you said red
Light, fighting back with a smile on your face;
Racing hearts chased each other to keep pace
With the words that had already been said.
Through all of the formalities, I sped,
Dead set on letting my hand reach that space
Between left and right lanes; The only place
A man, just like me, could truly be fed.
As the beginning of your end drew near,
The truth about my true intentions leaked;
"FIRE TRUCKS NEVER STOP FOR RED LIGHTS..DEAR!"
While being left without a word to speak,
I, too, began to whisper in your ear,
"Remember 'INNOCENCE IS FOR THE WEAK'!"
There was a fire truck in my kitchen today! It was about two feet long and had the loudest siren. There were two men driving the truck and my grandson set atop. He was doing all the work as he keep yelling, “VROOOOOM!”
There was a fire truck in my kitchen today! All I could think of was my own son and all the times we played cars and trucks on the same floor. Then I looked up and remembered all the times he stood at the sink and splashed bubbles everywhere! The kitchen is the heart of my home and so I just sat there on the linoleum and reminisced with my coffee in my hand.
There was also a Lamborghini,
a Porsche,
a semi-truck,
and a cement mixer too!
These are the days to remember.
I hope I can relive this moment again next week!
Gwendolen Rix
1-19-15
they everywhere
i set a stare
as the pass by
as a kid
yes i did
the corlor was red
it still in my head
on there rout
no doudt
some get stuck
those
FIRE TRUCKS
I wish my sentences came with a receipt of words so I could take back what I said, I wasn’t being completely honest when I said I wasn’t scared of him.
Praying on the un-expecting innocent children. You spit out virginity, purity and safety.
How could I not believe in evil when you stood there tapping the knife between your two fingers, the sound of the blade scraping against the wall, the feel of your breath on my eight year old neck.
I could still feel that breath and I scrubbed my thighs until they were fire truck red, ripped the skin of my lips and let my soul leave the empty shell of my body so I’d never be able to feel that form of touch again.
Because who needs intimacy more than a broken man with a retched ego, a man with more victims than morals, a man whose blood is liquor and suffering.
I began to laugh but caught it in mid air
remembering this was my first Christmas without my mother
I have had eleven months of not laughing
Why start now?
What is the matter? A friend asked. Not having any idea.
For her mother is alive and well, at the next table.
Even people who have lost their mothers do not get it
Because their mother was not my mother.
How long are you going to punish yourself? My muse wondered.
She is getting tired of this determination to be sad.
We did not kill my mother.
Bone cancer did.
Something else happened, and it was amazingly funny.
I began to laugh and could not stop. I laughed like a fire truck engine.
People in the restaurant stared. There were tears flying out of my eyes.
I looked like a clown on speed.
I did not care.
Sometimes the best times are the ones
that help hide your real feelings.
This was one of those slivers of a silver moments.
Fire Truck!
Desperately sounding sirens outside
several people look up from their I-phones
Children get excited, yelling “fire truck!”
Some of us know better.
Hoping it is no one that we know.