Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

The Park

Going down to Festival Park, just to see the sights

 

Neve know what you might see, It changes every night

 

Buskers, dancers, singers too, kids with faces painted

 

Pickpockets, con men and others who, live life by methods tainted

 

A hundred years ago or so the park was then donated

 

The family Billings, gave the land and their lovely gift was feted

 

Every year a party held in honour of the Billings

 

Until that time in fifty one, when the town had all those killings

 

No one in the town that year was safe while he was out there

 

He didn't pick just one set type, he didn't seem to care

 

Couples parked in cars at night at the far end of the park

 

It wasn't a safe place to be, especially after dark

 

Two men were found with bullet wounds, dead upon a bench

 

The Wylie boy was found because a dog had liked the stench

 

Yourng Tommy Wylie, 12 years old, was found behind the boat shed

 

The only thing to tie his case was the bullet in the head

 

The park though nice in daylight, at night became a veldt

 

Everyone was scared to death, that;s the way the whole town felt

 

A young man by the cenothaph and two more by the lake

 

The police had no clear suspect, they needed a mistake

 

The party at the park was stopped and other functions too

 

For the killer could be from this town, and who nobody knew

 

Eleven deaths in that dark summer put the town upon the map

 

Tourists would not visit, they would not come to his trap

 

The police were inundated with phone calls far and wide

 

People turning in everyone and making others hide

 

A task force was assembled, 30 cops from out of state

 

They had to find this killer before it was too late

 

While they interviewed the suspects the park had no events

 

You could go on through in daytime, but it still made one feel tense

 

The city added lighting to walkways and no luck

 

The only thing it added was taxes went up a buck

 

No other killings happened until that one in sixty two

 

It was just like all the others, so they thought that they knew who

 

Was back in town gone hunting, but there only was that one

 

A young man in his rambler, sitting drinking in the sun

 

The task force was abandoned back in fifty five

 

But after this last ****** they called back only five

 

This time it would be different, this time they'd get their man

 

Technolgy had changed alot, he'd be caught before he ran

 

A shell casing was found beside the wall down by the bridge

 

And it had a print upon it, they identified the ridge

 

Years ago they'd interviewed about three hundred men

 

But with this single ridge print, it was narrowed down to ten

 

Eight were dead and one left town, so with only one to find

 

A dragnet and a takedown plan were carefully designed

 

They knew that he'd be running if they called him back to talk

 

And they couldn't risk to lose him, or their whole case would walk

 

So with some misinformation printed in a column in the post

 

They hoped they flush their suspect, the one they wanted most

 

They said they'd made the capture, confessing every crime

 

They would take away his thunder, dropping hints on every crime

 

But, they would omit one last case, the one he started with

 

For this was information that they wanted him to give

 

It worked, he dropped a letter to the paper that same week

 

Threatening to strike again, and the first case he did leak

 

In his anger and his hurry he would leave another clue

 

They found another print to help them out and with this they had two

 

They swooped in and arrested a man of no abode

 

He lived in city missions he had no moral code

 

His capture freed the city from the monster in the park

 

It was now a place where you could go, and feel safe after dark

 

The festival committee for the city planned a fete

 

The victims of this monster, their lives they'd celebrate

 

A monument to those who died would be erected in their honor

 

And the whole thing would be organized by the Mayor...Mayor John B Connor

 

The names were read of each victim and then two minutes silence reigned

 

And a wreath for every family involved, these then were laid

 

New trees were planted for them all in a corner near a wall

 

And the park would schedule new events and brand new festivals

 

But, every year on this same day, on the tenth day of month ten

 

They would hold a special service for these women and these men

 

The park was now a joyous place, like it was meant to be

 

And if you're there, out by the wall...then you just might locate me.

.

Request permission to use this poem
Written by
roger-turner
Canadian
Published
May 7, 2012
Lines·Words
75·837
Tags
#the#street#monster#men#history#festival#park#con#pickpockets
Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell roger-turner how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write