"prowler" poems - Hello Poetry

The Chicago Tribune called it, “The Affair of the Decade!” Everyone’s mothers called it, “Another tragic heartbreak”. When the coroner wiped his hands, He predicted a sensation, And so did every uniformed man Sitting in the po-lice station. In a cold Illinois motel, A man in a suit smiles. He was twenty years in, A detective for the city. Oh, that smile he’ll smile, But gone is his laughter, Along with his pity, For tonight, tonight, He would shoot up the city. Regina combed her blonde hair, And took the lift down to the lobby. The pale-skinned princess, That woman’s body… How many fell for her Remains quite a mystery. We watch, Ladies and gentlemen, We watch, As her dress moves in the breeze. Like a dandelion in the dark, She rides the carriage Into the park. The detective stood alone, A cut-out cornerstone. He was no longer nervous, He looked like a statue, And the virgin-white snow Fell quietly to his shoes. In the moonlight, she came. He spoke her name. In the moonlight, she walked. But when he spoke, she stopped. “Regina, Regina, Please reconsider. Without you, The nighttime is darker, The cold air much thinner. Without you, The wind becomes sour, The daylight so bitter. Regina, Regina, It’s just a few days… Say yes, And in the morning, We’ll be far from this place!” But that Regina, Regina, She let him down easy: “Your job is to spy, To live in the quiet. You’re a prowler, You were born to sneak, And I will proceed, But do not follow me.” And we watch, Ladies and gentlemen, We watch, As she turns on a dime, Leaving our detective behind. A poor, tortured soul, He smiles that smile, And in an act of desperation, Pulls out his frosted .45. For Regina, He aimed, and For Regina, He fired. In the heart of Chicago, Be it snowfall or in heat, No one can be spared When a man is in defeat. T’will be the foggy air, The hot metal, and The echo of the gun That will help us remember The night that we watched, Ladies and gentlemen, We watched… We watched... The snow, and how It lost its innocence that night. And poor Regina, and how Her yellow dress blended into the sight. The detective, and how He would step into the street, Killing everyone he’d meet. Twenty men dead, Now the asphalt is sticky, And the blood spilled is gritty- For tonight, tonight, The detective shot up the city. The coroner wiped his hands, And predicted a sensation, And so did every uniformed man Sitting in the po-lice station.

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Oct 18, 2012

Oct 18, 2012 at 5:11 PM UTC

jordan-joanne-manser

For Regina

The Chicago Tribune called it, “The Affair of the Decade!” Everyone’s mothers called it, “Another tragic heartbreak”. When the coroner wiped his hands, He predicted a sensation, And so did every uniformed man Sitting in the po-lice station. In a cold Illinois motel, A man in a suit smiles. He was twenty years in, A detective for the city. Oh, that smile he’ll smile, But gone is his laughter, Along with his pity, For tonight, tonight, He would shoot up the city. Regina combed her blonde hair, And took the lift down to the lobby. The pale-skinned princess, That woman’s body… How many fell for her Remains quite a mystery. We watch, Ladies and gentlemen, We watch, As her dress moves in the breeze. Like a dandelion in the dark, She rides the carriage Into the park. The detective stood alone, A cut-out cornerstone. He was no longer nervous, He looked like a statue, And the virgin-white snow Fell quietly to his shoes. In the moonlight, she came. He spoke her name. In the moonlight, she walked. But when he spoke, she stopped. “Regina, Regina, Please reconsider. Without you, The nighttime is darker, The cold air much thinner. Without you, The wind becomes sour, The daylight so bitter. Regina, Regina, It’s just a few days… Say yes, And in the morning, We’ll be far from this place!” But that Regina, Regina, She let him down easy: “Your job is to spy, To live in the quiet. You’re a prowler, You were born to sneak, And I will proceed, But do not follow me.” And we watch, Ladies and gentlemen, We watch, As she turns on a dime, Leaving our detective behind. A poor, tortured soul, He smiles that smile, And in an act of desperation, Pulls out his frosted .45. For Regina, He aimed, and For Regina, He fired. In the heart of Chicago, Be it snowfall or in heat, No one can be spared When a man is in defeat. T’will be the foggy air, The hot metal, and The echo of the gun That will help us remember The night that we watched, Ladies and gentlemen, We watched… We watched... The snow, and how It lost its innocence that night. And poor Regina, and how Her yellow dress blended into the sight. The detective, and how He would step into the street, Killing everyone he’d meet. Twenty men dead, Now the asphalt is sticky, And the blood spilled is gritty- For tonight, tonight, The detective shot up the city. The coroner wiped his hands, And predicted a sensation, And so did every uniformed man Sitting in the po-lice station.