"caledonia" poems
From 3 p.m. Monday to 3 p.m. Tuesday
<h2>Police calls
<h3>LA CROSSE
3:39 p.m., Hit-and-run, 4400 block of Hwy. 16
4:11 p.m., Theft, 3700 block of Hwy. 16
4:41 p.m., Hit-and-run, 1100 block of State St.
5:37 p.m., Domestic disturbance, 1000 block of Charles St.
5:42 p.m., Theft, 2100 block of Liberty St.
5:59 p.m., Fight, Fourth and King sts.
8:08 p.m., Theft, 2400 block of Rose St.
8:08 p.m., Domestic disturbance, 400 block of Sixth St.
8:37 p.m., Domestic disturbance, 1000 block of Fifth Ave. S.
10:14 p.m., Domestic disturbance, 1600 block of Adams St.
11:32 p.m., Domestic disturbance, 1400 block of Avon St.
2:38 a.m., Domestic disturbance, 900 block of 16th St.
8:25 a.m., Theft, 3300 block of Rosehill Place
8:25 a.m., Theft, 1000 block of Ninth St.
8:26 a.m., Theft, 500 block of Main St.
8:26 a.m., Theft, 1400 block of Johnson St.
8:34 a.m., Theft, 400 block of Seventh St.
9:24 a.m., Entry to dwelling, 1600 block of Caledonia St.
9:51 a.m., Theft, 400 block of Liberty St.
11:01 a.m., Fraud, first block of Copeland Ave.
12:16 p.m., Entry to dwelling, 1000 block of State St.
<h3>ONALASKA
6:06 p.m., Animal bite, 2600 block of Midwest Drive
<h3>WEST SALEM
7:40 a.m., Vandalism, 3400 block of Hwy. 16
12:13 p.m., Theft, 900 block of Hwy. 16
<h3>BANGOR
9:24 a.m., Theft, 1800 block of Commercial St.
<h2>Fire Calls
<h3>LA CROSSE
3:01 p.m., Accident with injury, Fourth and Mississippi sts.
4:11 p.m., Accident with injury, 4500 block of Hwy. 33
4:26 p.m., Accident with injury, Hwy. 16 and 157
5:45 p.m., First responders, 700 block of Oakland St.
6:18 p.m., First responders, 1800 block of Pine St.
6:40 p.m., Accident with injury, Main and Fourth sts.
9:27 p.m., Natural gas odor, 700 block of Ninth St. N.
10:16 p.m., First responders, 1600 block of Adams St.
10:20 p.m., First responders, 900 block of Vine St.
1:54 a.m., First responders, 4100 block of Velmar Court
8:34 a.m., First responders, 400 block of Seventh St.
9:01 a.m., First responders, 400 block of Seventh St.
10:41 a.m., Accident with injury, Ninth and Vine sts.
10:45 a.m., Carbon monoxide report, 1500 block of Main St.
10:46 a.m., First responders, 400 block of Gillette St.
11:04 a.m., Accident with injury, 1300 block of Rose St.
11:10 a.m., First responders, 1500 block of Rose St.
11:14 a.m., First responders, Fourth and King sts.
11:31 a.m., Accident with injury, 16th and Main sts.
12:05 p.m., Accident with injury, 200 block of Pearl St.
1:12 p.m., Accident with injury, Hood and Miller sts.
2:26 p.m., Accident with injury, 21st St. and Park Ave.
<h3>ONALASKA
3:30 p.m., First responders, 1000 block of Westview Circle
5:09 p.m., Accident with injury, 1200 block of Hwy PH
8:02 p.m., First responders, 300 block of 12th Ave.
8:43 p.m., First responders, 300 block of 12th Ave.
8:50 p.m., First responders, 200 block of Oak Forest Drive
9:47 p.m., First responders, 200 block of Carol Lane
6:12 a.m., First responders, 1000 block of Frances Court
10:41 a.m., First responders, 7200 Northshore Lane
11:27 a.m., Accident with injury, Grant St. and Hwy. SN
11:35 a.m., Accident with injury, Commerce and Abbey roads
11:53 a.m., Accident with injury, 300 block of 11th Ave.
12:14 p.m., First responders, 5500 block of Commerce Road
1:08 p.m., First responders, 400 block of Kimberly St.
1:42 p.m., Accident with injury, 600 block of Second Ave.
<h3>HOLMEN
9:59 p.m., First responders, 1500 block of Viking Ave.
10:50 a.m., Accident with injury, Sand Lake Road and Laurel Place
1:32 p.m., Accident with injury, 1400 block of Main St.
<h3>WEST SALEM
8:53 a.m., First responders, 500 block of Elm St.
11:09 a.m., First responders, 300 block of Franklin St.
<h3>MELROSE
1:21 p.m., First responders, 9700 block of Hwy. 108
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 11:07 PM UTC
Often alone I think of you
rolling mountains covered in a purple haze
both in highlands and lowlands too
running water so pure sparkling bright
making our whisky a natural delight
Caledonia - the land of my dreams
I hear music played from the heart
oh' the sound of pipes and drums
heart racing hairs standing on end
poetry filling my eyes with tears
recited at suppers year after year
in celebration of bards no longer here
Caledonia - the land of my dreams
Men wearing tartan skirts with nothing underneath
dancing between swords at highland gatherings
playing games testing their manhood
eating haggis a pudding often misunderstood
porridge,shortbread, salmon and oatcakes
quality food that is for sure
Caledonia - the land of my dreams
History remembered with pride
Mary Stuart, Bonnie Prince Charlie
Wallace, Culloden and Nessie too
some myths, some true
castles, lochs, bridges and glens
places where lassies are called hen
where houses are often **** un bens
people answering with ah' ken
Celtic blood running through my veins
makes me glad I am alive and living here
Caledonia - the land of my dreams
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 5:44 AM UTC
I walk down to the quayside,
past the Pure Gym fitness centre's
plate glass window.
There is a phalanx of treadmills
facing the glass,
populated by women
running nowhere,
an image of futility,
trapped like flies at a window,
determined and doomed.
The fitness centre looks out
at the huge boats
that work North Sea
between the oil fields and the fishing grounds:
The Olympic Commander,
Normand Aurora,
Skandi Caledonia,
Helliar.
On the high decks,
men in yellow oilskins
lean over the ship rail
and watch the women run.
For a moment I stand
between them, the earnest women,
the wistful men,
feeling for both but belonging with neither.
The sun is low in the sky,
and there's an Arctic bite
to the wind.
I pull up my collar,
and hurry into veins
of the granite city.
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 6:41 AM UTC
Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses!
In you let the minions of luxury rove:
Restore me the rocks, where the snow-flake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love:
Yet, Caledonia, belov’d are thy mountains,
Round their white summits though elements war:
Though cataracts foam ’stead of smooth-flowing fountains,
I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.
Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy, wander’d:
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid;
On chieftains, long perish’d, my memory ponder’d,
As daily I strode through the pine-cover’d glade;
I sought not my home, till the day’s dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star;
For fancy was cheer’d, by traditional story,
Disclos’d by the natives of dark Loch na Garr.
“Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices
Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale?”
Surely, the soul of the hero rejoices,
And rides on the wind, o’er his own Highland vale!
Round Loch na Garr, while the stormy mist gathers,
Winter presides in his cold icy car:
Clouds, there, encircle the forms of my Fathers;
They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr.
“Ill starr’d, though brave, did no visions foreboding
Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause?”
Ah! were you destined to die at Culloden,
Victory crown’d not your fall with applause:
Still were you happy, in death’s earthy slumber,
You rest with your clan, in the caves of Braemar;
The Pibroch resounds, to the piper’s loud number,
Your deeds, on the echoes of dark Loch na Garr.
Years have roll’d on, Loch na Garr, since I left you,
Years must elapse, ere I tread you again:
Nature of verdure and flowers has bereft you,
Yet still are you dearer than Albion’s plain:
England! thy beauties are tame and domestic,
To one who has rov’d on the mountains afar:
Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic,
The steep, frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr.
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Once across a Caledonia dreary, whose Echo,
Amid the Jötnar, was MAN, I wandered hurt and weary,
Until yon Glare, with deadly Rage flaming,
Lo! I beheld, next to the Iron Gates
Of a long-forgotten Ruin named still
After incorruptible Titanium.
A noble, finely engraved feudal Vest,
Under a Luminary invisible, implacable,
Shone thither with a Glare fiercer, methought,
Than that of the rubies at warlike Valhalla,
Amid Walls time-eaten, kingly Banners, and proud Towers,
And dwelt there in melting Titanium.
Deep memories of martial Woe
Like an arrow piercing my ***** and aimed
Thro' the Night with lethal Glare,
No barrier was there to be found
Between my Past yielding and this conquering Robe
With Runes marked deep in Titanium.
Thus I remembered having once graved,
In revered silence and solitary anger,
Into the Glare, within the Hills, upon the Dust,
The Emblem of the OVERMAN,
Which thou may again now see gleaming,
With pride Superhuman, o'er this garb of Titanium.
My Enemy Wraith haunting me no more,
Into a most profane dying hour,
I walked forth, to wear of the Armour of the Glare the worth,
And felt, intensely, from the Zenith of a most fiery Heaven,
The Rays from the Stars imbuing my Very Gore
With blinding, rageful Titanium.
Hereupon, with Cuirass thus worn, I bethought me of boldly ascending,
With heavy Claymore drawn, in a Guard of the Hawk,
At Ultima Thule, of the Bluish Glare, the Hidden Rock,
And at its scorching Crest, with Blade o'er me flashing, widened my gathering Breast,
The Largest Mirror, the Highest Beacon, aye,
Before the wild Blaze molten down in Titanium.
Jul 24, 2020
Jul 24, 2020 at 3:12 AM UTC
you know you take
words and some cement and glue
and you make them all stick together
into verse and poetry;
and you gather love like a rolling stone
and you blow wild seeds in the air
and you’ve got fine diction
and refined sentiments
and it’s made into a poem
and it all makes sense
oh baby,
it all makes too much sense
you work like Vivaldi
and make poems about seasons
or you work like Goethe
and pour roaring poetry
to outdo Shakespeare
and you frighten Edgar Allan Poe;
and you have great insight
like the Buddha or some Great Prophet
or Only One Savior
and you give us mighty fine inspired poetry
pure, pure spirituality;
or you just take Revelation
like the countless mindless followers
the Great Being has been plagued with since Inception
and you make verse
and oh, it all makes sense
it all makes too much sense
and you take my foibles, our foibles
and your poems
laugh at them
or you put fine words together and string beads of harmony
like a millions-dollar necklace
Richard Burton might have offered Liz Taylor
oh you know you make poems
that come across time and cyberspace
and they all maketh perfect sense
but
how about
baby
you and me make verse
that knocks out sense and makes no sense?
poetry that takes the mickey out of meaning?
no, not for a change -
but forever?
no, not for entertainment
but for nonsense?
so that senses is knocked senseless
and we escape you and me
to North Caledonia
to Paradise of rhythm and senseless-beauty
and we have a beat
and we have a pulse
and the street gang says in awe:
Oh, hey
see these two babies move
they’ve got the style
they’ve got the swing
Yeah, they’re a fine couple of babies!
so we got no sense
and sense-less is meaningless
so we got no sense in nonsense either
or senselessness for that matter
we got nothing baby
(well, nothing on as well)
but plenty of rhythm and sway
we drop all fine subjects
that determine our lives
so we are all freed of lies maybe
(we don’t know what will happen)
and we got the spirit of poetry
beyond sense and line and word and form and intent and purpose
and that gets all the universe rocking
(no doubt, there’s enough rock already)
baby
in one baby-making sway
how about that, baby?
you and me
abandon sense
and dance naked between planets and stars?
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 5:21 PM UTC
Where hast thou floated, in what seas pursu'd
Thy pastime? When wast thou an egg new spawn'd,
Lost in the immensity of ocean's waste?
Roar as they might, the overbearing winds
That rock'd the deep, thy cradle, thou wast safe--
And in thy minikin and embryo state,
Attach'd to the firm leaf of some salt ****
Didst outlive tempests, such as wrung and rack'd
The joints of many a stout and gallant bark,
And whelm'd them in the unexplor'd abyss.
Indebted to no magnet and no chart,
Nor under guidance of the polar fire,
Thou wast a voyager on many coasts,
Grazing at large in meadows submarine,
Where flat Batavia just emerging peeps
Above the brine,--where Caledonia's rocks
Beat back the surge,--and where Hibernia shoots
Her wondrous causeway far into the main.
--Wherever thou hast fed, thou little thought'st,
And I not more, that I should feed on thee.
Peace, therefore, and good health, and much good fish,
To him who sent thee! and success, as oft
As it descends into the billowy gulf,
To the same drag that caught thee!--Fare thee well!
Thy lot thy brethern of the slimy fin
Would envy, could they know that thou wast doom'd
To feed a bard, and to be prais'd in verse.
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Some days we'd lay about the milled plank deck
eyes to the sky
shoulders pinned
deliberating
on the hickory trees
and pillow clouds
and heavenly contrails
the warm caress
of a mid-summer wind
whispering through the hayfields
coondog at our side
sandhill crane still
feet in the shallows
of the Haldimand pond
a soft trickle coming
from the Pickerel stream
creaks from the woodshed whistle
as the Massey Ferguson
putters her way
up the county line
catharsis in place
(in this ethereal space)
just a garden variety day
...with fire ants
and fowler toads
and golden honey bees
Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 2:40 PM UTC
For many years we have stood side by side
Unthinkable to contemplate your loss
If you should leave, bereft we would abide
And both of us must count the heavy cost
We have not always been the best of friends
I know you feel our union was forced
But all those ****** battles had to end
Since then do our achievements count for nought?
The whole is better than the sum of parts
Oh Caledonia, it's up to you
Is our historic partnership to last
Or do we have to bid a friend adieu
By voting, not by battle you decide
Remain, or by the claymore sever ties
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 9:05 AM UTC
Not what you think,
The shrinks, the drugs
Wore out, me and them,
Now we just exchange regards,
Used crying towels
All agreed,
So much the better
For me and the State
Nobody's fault,
These fault lines,
Run so ******* deep,
From California to New Caledonia
Where I've gone to hide from
Lunacies, visionaries, one pill cures-all-defeats
Laugh tracks and reruns,
Death defying boring English documentaries
On gardening and milking cows,
Video cassettes, lunettes
The Internet,
Might as well do it almost all
The conclusion reached,
Strained from an armada of words,
Tankers, tugs, cruise tours,
Man o' Wars,
Totals cannot be reach,
Too many words,
Saying the same but different,
Saying the sane but different,
Saying you sunk to the bottom,
only up, the only autoroute
Almost laughable,
Heal thyself,
The End,
So here I am
Twixt any two continents,
A continental on a rock island
Far from mon pays natal,
Here, I am unnoticed
Midst the stones of Noumea,
Talking to myself, one last time,
Hoping for kind words en Anglais ,
Pourquoi pas?
This then the conclusion,
Strained from a life diluted,
Writing Poetry in English,
Looking for just a few-more words,
Kind, gentil, let me try this
Genre,
Why not?
Heal Thyself
The conclusion, strained
March 2014
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 8:50 AM UTC
She followed the wind as she sang into the night,
A lullaby for all the children sleeping wrapped up tight,
A song to soothe a thousand souls,
Upon the breast to enliven a thousand goals.
The joyful and saddening songs of the night,
Passed between ruby lips - a joyful sight.
Her heart burning with passion,
Her eyes a glow,
She started up humbly, coarse and low,
A story of a young girl turned old,
Up in Scotland, starting her journey through the cold,
Caledonia, it's title my sweethearts, you will see,
My song, forged from experience and joyful glee.
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 11:27 PM UTC
Welcome to Landfill where they bury your free will,
please
hold tight to the handrails we're all going in.
Passing through fallen arches past the smashed dreaming warriors into abandoned stone quarries,
taking time for a tea on the way.
Welcome to Landfill where they still fly the standard although at half mast.
Reserve a place for the saviour
he's playing a card game unaware that his fame has spread out like confetti and is whetting the appetites of Satan and his acolytes.
Here in dystopia where hope's hoping it's fooling ya the lights are being turned off one by one.
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 8:06 PM UTC
Cry Freedom, the Lapland
It is not only Caledonia and the Flemish people
who are crying freedom, a new nation has been born
It stretches from Norway, Sweden and Finland.
The Swedes has accepted this new state as the female
activists said it would be discriminatory and racists to deny
The indigenous people their right.
Norway refused point blank, and as a retaliation has shut
shops selling oranges and bananas.
The Norwegian has seen through this ruse, if the new
country called “Lapland” is a state it will lay claim to untapped
oil in the Barents Sea. It is said that Exxon is behind this,
me, I blame Putin.
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 3:42 AM UTC
Music to my Eyes: Caledonia
Let me tell you that I love you
That I think about you all the time
When I’m down and dreaming nightmares
You in my arms, the best joy I find
But if our love becomes endangered
And I become only a stranger
I will love you
Till the world dies
In holy fire
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC
Summon eternal romance,
for we want to be in trance,
joined by the happenstance,
in this enchanting dance.
Our 'everlasting' love,
where did it go?
Don't despair
life ain't fair,
but its okay,
everyone knows.
Betrayal and lies..
The devil amidst us rises
concealed in various guises,
using her vile and clever deception,
destroying our love connection.
Desire and temptation.
A pitch and angry world taking its toll,
I feel anger and wrath, hope falling apart..
I can't feel..more..
Where is my soul?
Where is my heart?
Did she take it all?
Did she broke it all?
Putting on our social masks
we fall back to the normal tasks
of feeding on tragic memories
and our perpetual miseries.
Where's my life?
Where's the hope?
Brave songs on trembling swords,
panic with mere determined words,
its time for a royal dethrone,
my resolve as strong as stone.
Don't you dare despair,
although the fear is there,
my will is laid bare,
I will prevail.
Using her evil art,
I will reach my goal,
this will be my heart,
this will be my soul.
Gain it back,
take it back.
No matter what.
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 2:16 AM UTC
Bring it on, September!
This time, I'm not afraid.
As summer leaves,
My mind changes color.
I'll take a mushroom feast
As summer's farewell gift.
My soul will settle
In autumn's golden hush.
And when winter comes,
I'll meet the cold with fire.
Attentive readers will recognize
The classic woodear-soup.
My writer's heart may ask
For Caledonia once again.
But for the first time
It might sing of winter, too.
Aug 24, 2025
Aug 24, 2025 at 4:58 AM UTC
& now for young ladies in love & Wedded
w / naked girls mothers, . Ethiopia's
Dead-Head days of the year of the number
of the goods to the poet's long coat,
Caledonia - The distance between a mother's
face White snooch fair ground in the dark
Green thought; Rose said girls the great city
in the world, the art of living in a flood lifts
the needy; American money to pay the skin
to the Sun; Specifically, they found that
choosing to be In the good old war,
a great abundance of them; God save you
sea hard Dream of Cătellus through the blood;
fire 1 young female stars in the Street
or hearing of the word, he thought,
was not a man, indeed, those who reach six
are said to live after breaking off the marriage,
what is The Turquoise is a local poet;
Watergate Cover-up Catholic
infancy at the height of the feet of the place
the stone of three sons, the arc; Leave
the Abbot General in The head of Medusa,
to show that he is truly man; These free from Most
wild Little Browns; The former star of the current
state gay Feeling the standing invisible
In cursive script writing by hand, Worms
The old pier when they are afraid, but my heart
'the cat's White was also the Secret
of the Consumer Voice; Lately a lot of guys
are wet; They were filled w/ a sweeter
sad mouth on the side of the window
knockers, However, is speakingof the Great
Plains; Deep between the Russian civil law;
Friends & blind dogs wearing mirrors to the
Heroic Virgin's Kiss, but the history of the
revolutionary time strippers & sending the
mother of all Strippers of a dog, the school
of Marcus; In the northwest of the island
Society Friends Dream of perfect modern
House Garden The girl gave birth & asked
to quit the evil behind the back of the daughters;
For the rich smell of unknown; The weather,
the fall of Horatio's World; Alchemy's mom
touched to meet Him speaking his mind in the air
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC