"rookie" poems
1
Monday Night Football on a Thursday.
Preseason. Johnny Manziel, running.
The nurse is a signal caller, too.
She flicks the wrist like Rodgers,
puts spin on it like Manning.
Once a rookie, now a seasoned vet.
2
Monday Night Football on a Thursday.
Network glitch? John Gruden, talking.
Anxiety lurks in the tall grass
still licking its paws. My head's out the game.
I've become an easy meal.
3
Monday Night Football on a Thursday.
If I had another John he'd go right here.
I miss my mother, and how she smiles
like my illness only increases my value,
puts gold in my veins instead of chemo.
Rex throws his clipboard, I lose my appetite.
4
Monday Night Football On A Thursday.
No more John's. Get over it.
Game's almost over. My head fresh from
the toilet, pieces of everything falling out
of me. Broken. Stumbling. At this moment,
football is enough.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
Enter—the transitive nightfall
of diamonds.
There are crop circles dancing
in a wave on Neptune,
with corn rows gleaming from
the man on Mars.
Tail feathers toss toward a
flute near Venus.
Fly me like a rainbow
to the nearest star.
Sirius B
has nothing for me.
Anunnaki women want
to dig my scene.
Don’t take me seriously;
I’m bluffing like a rookie
with a pair of queens.
Moon Unit lands with a
Zappa on Pluto.
Yoda on Saturn
plays steel guitar.
Moses rides in on a
doggone quasar.
Captain Trips sleeps
by a medicine jar.
Sirius B has
something for me.
Hot Nibiru babes try
to make my dream.
Don’t greet me furiously.
I’ll drop you like a comet
heading to the east.
Exit—the transitive nightfall
of diamonds.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
drip... drip ..drip
feel the cold water
hit your empty stomach
just take little sips
stomach growls lull me to sleep
i don't like a full stomach
i don't care that it makes me weak
i don't see a cookie
i see 120 calories
22.8 g carbs, 14.4 g sugar
this is my daily life I'm not a rookie
water has zero grams
of sugar,carbs and calories
so I drink water
i have water for dinner
and for a snack
i avoid the scale
i don't weight myself anymore
cause it makes me feel more like
a beached whale
i don't eat breakfast
i eat one meal at 3pm
some people notice so
i just lie and say I'm fasting...
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 1:51 PM UTC
You can tell a lot about
A person by the ones he admires.
Another telling factor is
The people whom he inspires.
Donald Trump, for example,
Praises Putin, a leader who
Has jailed dissenters, squashed human rights,
And done away with opponents, too.
After a questionable referendum,
Which restricts in many ways
Civil rights, the leader of Turkey,
Erdoğan, received Trump's praise.
Duterte of the Philippines--
Authoritarian and leading official--
Has had thousands of people killed
In a manner blatantly extrajudicial.
So that's his way of solving the problem
Of drugs in the Philippines is it?
And guess who wants the blood-thirsty,
Despotic leader to come for a visit?
And then there's the leader of North Korea,
Kim Jong Un. Only a rookie
Would say that the mad, unhinged and murderous
Leader was a "pretty smart cookie."
Trump's had business ties with three
Of the above countries. There's no mistaking.
But does this mean that a Trump Tower
In Pyongyang is in the making?
-by Bob B (5-3-17)
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 9:57 AM UTC
The flyers facing there cross-state rivals Pittsburg Penguins
Backup goalie emery in net starts of good then it turns for the worset
3-0 penguins i am wide eyed and mouth open stunned
then second period flyers score 4 goals
one by the capten, two by a deffense men, and the last by a rookie
Third period flyers get puck with one minute left the pensguins
Pull there goalie and sean couturier shoots it down the ice for
a empty net goalie game over flyers forge a 5-3 victory for the record books and prove they are better then the flyers
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Justice delayed is justice denied
A familiar credo rarely applied
So the call for it is a rising tide
They’re only trying to close the divide
It came so quickly in Baltimore
Like nothing that they had ever seen before
The young prosecutor was so able and sure
Though she never tried a case like it before
This time a rookie would light the fuse
People rejoiced once given the news
The laws don’t exist for police to abuse
Responsible parties have to pay some dues
She laid the facts out chapter and verse
Starting with what she said occurred first
It began to appear that Freddie was cursed
As she laid out the charges it looked even worst
Although color only tends to distract
If you must keep track as a matter of fact
Out of the six cops three were black
Which doesn’t suggest that they knew how to act
Cops bleed blue whether black or white
The uniform’s the same am I wrong or right?
Either or they’ll put out your light
Then say you resisted and put up a fight
People were asking how Freddie died
Some rightly suspected from a bumpy ride
And now that those facts have been verified
It’s more than a theory that will get tried
Just as if Freddie was sending a sign
His broken neck and a badly cracked spine
Wasn’t self-inflicted we got to find
Did they really think that we’d lost our minds
© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
No one saw it coming,
that warm September day-
Not the workers at the pudding shack
Who mixed sweet treats for pay.
Not the Rookie at the pressure valves
Not the people in the town
It was the Rookies’ rank incompetence
That set in motion what went down.
Nine vats of Snack Time pudding
Exploded with a roar
Nine hundred thousand gallons
Went oozing out the door
The workers never had a chance
On this, their final day
Ending up like Easter bunnies
For a giant’s holiday
That mighty wave of chocolate.
Like a Tsunami hit the town.
Sweet creamy death swept over them
Deliciously, they drowned.
Others turned and tried to flee.
They ran for all their worth.
The swift were lucky to escape
This scrumptious hell on earth
The survivors of the snack slide
Lost all they owned in town
It was a diabetics’ wet dream
Everything was chocolate brown.
It was the worst snacktastrophe
Our land had ever seen.
Obama sent marines with spoons
The air force dropped whipped cream
Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 10:50 PM UTC
Stepping up to the plate,
I knew what was coming next,
Hot and fast,
A little curve at the end,
I could get to first base,
I guessed,
Rounding the corner,
maybe second.
A little hustle in my step,
A slide perhaps,
A double on opening night.
Anxiety as I approached,
Ready to swing away,
'can I do this?'
I stepped out of the box for a moment,
My turn to shine,
Stepping in,
Choking up,
Relaxing my shoulders as I prepared to follow-through,
Eyes fixed on the pitch,
A homerun would be nice,
Then I realized,
Just getting to first-base would be a home-run for me,
This rookie,
My god,
Dating is sooo hard.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 6:59 AM UTC
Nowadays,
Stunned
Gripped
Because in this holy country people are greedy,even your relatives.
Near ones betraying you,
Suppress you,depress you.
Standing against a Hollow shoulder,this rookie should’ve been boulder.
I stand for truth only.Be it against my creator!
I pray to you almighty.you should’ve dealt humans With Great preceptor.
This overwhelming belief of one mans life,
Does not end with couple of children’s & a wife.
Out there He struggle through this juggle !
Another day,another dollar !
Not a single diversion is there to reach white collar.
This concrete jungle does not fancy me anymore.
I stand gypsy in a midnight moon,
Doing this word gambling to kept the fire alive,
Swimming through shores with 5 feet & 6 inches of Dive.
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC
Mental debates of moving on and
Leaving the past, she dreams
Of working things out to make
Them last, she’s all too familiar
With solitude, its wonders,
Its dedication to her companionship
They walk hand in hand
Looking, staring at silhouettes, still vivid
and bright as the day that she first opened
Her eyes to Dalia smirks, truly hurt
She watches in awe
As he carefully places
The pieces to the puzzle of
A black and white field
Strategies flow easily from behind
The dam that is a set of porcelain eyes
Sworn to secrecy only for self fulfillment
Along the checkered floor she explored
Boundaries she had never encountered
He leads her as his pawn of choice
Through torturous escapades against
Rookie creatures and staggering Horsemen
They wane on her chances of successfully
Obtaining the crown of glory
He pushes her forward with a touch
Soft and soothing, no reason
To doubt his reasoning
She gives up the greatest of gifts, trust
In his hands she quietly moves
With no complaints, forward
Out toward a troublesome mine field
With every space she’s placed in
She’s laced with waste traced with her Demise,
he plays the creator,
How humorous it seems
The slightest sense of secure attachment
Provides a false sense of security
The way he touches her persuades
Her he’ll never let her fall
In his embrace she doesn’t see
The smirk of disgust as his face
Twisted, wretched and gruesome
Grins at the only pleasure she provides him
Empty bliss he can only wish to fill
His grasp, once tender and warm
Clenches down on her with splintering pain
With silent screams of despair
She comes closer to her peril
Glimmering crown, in the scope of her sight
The only sense of hope left in her mind
The next move can be her last
With only hopes of a clear road
As he once again guides her
Calm and steady with the kindness
He once displayed when she
Naïvely dreamt of how her life
Truly should become
Her struggles slowly ease away
From the pain she once felt
Never showed it even in the
Biggest battles he lead her through
Now she lay motionless alongside her
Fallen obstacles in complete darkness
Six cold silent walls surround
Her in her slumber until another
Cruel puppeteer falls across
The coffin of demise and despair
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
You rushed in like a quarterback carrying the ball
Like a rookie I fell for the fake play
Hook, line, and sinker, I foolishly bought it all
It seemed like a game that started out fair
Fans all abuzz claiming "This is our year!"
Now the bleachers stand empty, not a soul left to cheer
Nothing left but to turn off the stadium lights
On a field that was once so hopeful and bright
Off to the locker rooms both teams retreat
One to lick their wounds as the other celebrates the championship repeat
In glory you'll go on to play for more teams
While this career-ending injury is killing my dreams
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
Cookie Crumble, why are thee sad?
Rookie Rumble, are you the one responsible?
Yes, i have i did everything that made Cookie Crumble sad
Why Rookie Rumble, why did you make Cookie Crumble sad?
- - - - - - - - - - -- - - - -- - - -- - - -- - - - -- - - -- - -- - - -- - - -- - - -- - - - -- - - - -- - -
" beacuse i've always loved you , Cookie Crumble
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 1:16 AM UTC
I'm deteriorating,
Slowly fading to black
I'm barely out the gates
Yet I feel like a weather beaten hack
What's the point to life?
With its fake friends, fake smiles and lost dreams
I look around me and my shoulders sag
This is not the stuff of boyhood dreams
What's the point to life?
A ferocious cycle of failure and heartbreak
What's my greatest fear?
Unfulfilled potential and lost stakes
I shouldn't be feeling like this
but at twenty I've got so much hanging on me
Prematurely coming of age
Midwifed by letdowns and rookie mistakes
But they don't know, they cant see
Hazarded guesses is all they can take
At the turmoil and torment
I mask with wide smile and firm handshake
I'm a man, I've got to be strong
Bear the consequences of my past
You don't know and you never will
A jot of the pain I hold fast
The way of my parents seems right
But putting all my eggs in one basket
Is not a smart move I don't think
Christianity my have some answers, but cant crack the whole racket
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 10:03 AM UTC
"i'm Rookie"
maybe i'll say it someday when I'm driving
naked skin burning on a sun kissed motorcycle seat
past old fruit stands,
toward some shadowed, dehydrated strangers arms,
in the texas heat.
i'll show them my homemade tattoos,
and recite some poetry to them.
i'll be wearing nothing but a feather headband,
and thigh high socks,
with a flask of throat burning
fire
trapped to the side of my leg.
i'll have nothing, and i'll need nothing,
but the open road,
and strangers hands caressing my candlelit skin,
when you can softly hear the rain at night,
like warm sweat of the
desert sky.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
K.p’s dad was a Science Fiction author,
While his son and I learned at school.
The teacher talked about planes, bombs, and towers-
Explosions, debris, and jet fuel.
We were poised like guppies, fidgeting with our lips,
Our bodies seemed made of lewd rubber.
Not one of us understood the weight or gravity-
Of one person killing another.
K.p’s dad wrote about a fair United States,
Called: “The Defined Territories,” rather tenacious.
A satire exploring justice with exaggerated sameness-
That most readers found to be tasteless.
His main character was a ‘rookie cop,’
And every skin color was uniform and equal.
Homosexuals gladly aided population control (by not making babies)-
And bullets were designed to be non-lethal.
In the story: a group of smugglers find a stockpile of real guns,
Automatics, ammunition and bombs.
The valiant cop pursues them through page turns and plot-
With sweat budding on his palms.
K.p and I fought over a girl at school,
I broke his nose and we each served detention.
At the end of his dad’s story the smugglers are caught-
Fined $1,000 and given lethal injection.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
I had a dream
on the road, I saw people scream
there was a little boy
sitting by the side, I saw him cry.
While everyone around was insane
like a good citizen, first I asked him his name
" I am Praful, take me to my mother"
with no idea whatsoever, I took the boy and set out for the quest
I felt I am in the matrix movie
dodging fire,stones and flying bottles, no better than a rookie
for me this was a new part of the town
and I had no idea where to go around
Relying on this boy for navigation
like he had any clue, my stupid imagination
I kept looking for a police van
but in vain, saw only angry howling men
suddenly, we heard a shriek
"Praful !! where have you been ?? "
that was the mother, and instantly the boy ran to her
and I thought its end of this bother.
holding the boy she came towards me with fury
"you rascal, trying to kidnap my son? "
the boy didn't try to explain
to him, in a moment, I became a strange someone
Helpless in this situation I ran,
again, for the police van
luckily, I found an officer
"Sir ! take me home, i don't know these roads"
"Son ! sit in my car, while I tackle these jumping, screaming toads!"
I ducked at the rear seat tensed
for I could see the mother looking for revenge
I got up, sat on the bed, what a nightmare I had
asked God, " I was just trying to help, was that bad?"
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
i no longer have
clementine
the tangle-haired capricorn woman
made of fire and ice, skin like drunken showers,
when she smokes, its like she breathes in
dawn
for the first time.
no
cherry,
with soft skin like cream
off fresh milk.
when she smokes
dimples drown in her cheeks
and the smoke swims out
like dancers in the breeze.
no more
veronica,
soft voice, shaky like daisies in the wind,
spring grass,
when she smokes its a gesture of allure,
she invites a kiss with an
edge
of a
tobacco
scream.
je t'aime,
my wild creatures,
i will rage against the cold grip of authority
with the kicking feet
you know i have
until
we can rule over our little
smoldering town
and walk on
coals once
more.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
Dear Gwen Stefani Circa 2006,
The first music I chose to like that wasn’t
just my mom’s tuning of the radio was
Your solo CD, the first and best of two, which
I made sure to get on my twelfth birthday, after
I made sure to get my first kiss.
We were not rookie sixth graders anymore,
In soggy bathing suits teeming with pubescence,
So I publicized my plans to plant one on
Yeorgios Mavromatis, the new seventh grade boyfriend,
The first boy to buy me jewelry I would not like,
The first boy I used to make myself infamous.
Our hallway bottlenecked with twelve year olds,
Alone we sat on the bed, legs dangling above
The stained beige carpet. The kiss was damp and boring.
But the crowd that pressed at the door was an ******
Surged voices told me my dad was walking up the stairs,
I arched around to throw the boyfriend in the closet,
My father caught me, and I wore the walk through them
Like your scarlet lipstick. The album of
My first kiss was not passion, but gossip.
I’ve seen you in red lipstick, bindis, and blue hair,
A pink wedding dress, and a Platinum Blonde Life.
I knew you were making art meant to publicize.
The songs and the clothes and the Harajuku Girls,
The boys and the clothes and the Children’s Theatre,
The day I made a scene was the day I knew.
Catholic guilt and couture gilt and creative goals
Took two West Coast girls, only twenty three years apart
And turned them into people you paid attention to.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
(Dedicated to Eric Onyebuchi Jibero)
What an excruciating blow
You have dealt me!
A brute's uppercut offloaded
A smashing hit delivered
Like a monstrous boxer
Desirous of fame
With an amateur to tame
At this one bout too many
Wherein you have hit me below
The belt as a sadist deriving joy
From my anguish
And relish
From my enormous loss
Oh mower,
Nay hewer,
Can't you feel anything?
Can't you see?
Can't you reason for a while
With your prey?
Can't you pause to ponder
Just for a brief moment
So you can take a good decision
Choosing the right tree to fell
Instead of bringing down a mere
Sapling with your obedient saw?
Why deal sweeping blow
On a mere rookie?
Can't you distinguish
Between the ripe and the unripe?
Between the hen and the chick?
But hawks like you can pick
Meat amidst bones as Moses
In a basket amidst bulrushes
Of Nile to spare from Pharaoh's
Infant-eating sword
And in wisdom did you wait
Patiently to visit Methuselah
At the zenith of hoary hair
Master of double standards
Eyes gorged
Conscience seared
Heart cold like frozen chicken
******* dry and drooping
Like a hag's
A ruthless scorpion
That stings even babes
Rampaging ravager
Notorious brigand
Marauding machinery
Eliminating without scruple
Whoever you choose
Whose hireling are you?
God's or Satan's
Or both?
A blank cheque you flaunt
To cash as you wish
But can't you condescend to a negotiating
Table when a mere sapling is marked
For a cutting down?
Being a professional boxer
Long in this senseless trade
You should have seen the heap
Of pain you would leave
In my heart by this cruel blow
Against a budding amateur whom
You have served voracious earth
Whose stomach is a leaking tank.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 5:22 AM UTC
Wierd Morning.
Woke late
and had a quick bathe.
Bathing was so not fun
because my soap was missing,
"it must be greenhilda, that monstrous cat of mine", i thought.
OH GREAT
My electricity went off
and Guess what?
My first-day-at-work-clothes
were seriously rumpled.
I rushed my milk
and tried to take in the last drop,
it missed my mouth
and landed on my shirt.
* OH CRAP *
"Taxi", i screamed
"God speed, right NOW" , i said.
The taxi drove.
* DOUBLE CRAP *
It was the red light
and it was 8:45am.
I said a silent prayer.
Finally, the green showed
and in 15mins i was there.
" O.Malley Company" , the sign board said.
I stepped in the front gates
and then i accidentally dropped my eye-glass case.
**** ! it broke.
* TRIPLE CRAP *
Day just got worse.
My usually wierd smile plastered my face.
I walk in,
no one noticed.
The office had its usual formalities.
In no time i was directed
to the Manager's office.
We talked for 2mins
and before i could stand, he announced my assigned post was occupied earlier that morning
" **** " , i cursed
*** look graced the Manager's face.
I guess the saying
about,
"the early bird catches the worm"
is true after all.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
Click
Paris Hilton and her views on homosexual men
Click
Lady Gaga and how she gained 25 pounds so now she has to go on a diet
Click
Rookie outfielder fireballs a man out at home plate from deep center
Click
The deathtoll in the Middle East is on a perpetual rise
Click
"Have you ever ****** for money?"
Click
A kitten flounders around on a carpet while a baby watches, points and laughs
Click
A boy on bicycle does a wheelie and falls backward, blood spewing everywhere
Click
"I'm Mitt Romney and I endorse this message."
Click
The far reaches of the universe are estimated to be... beyond human comprehension
Click
Morbidly obese men chugging three forty ounces of beer, one after the other, and are paid for their views by Google
Click
"You will never know the truth."
Click
"The meaning of life is to simply live."
Click
Click here to find out how YOU can make $800 without leaving your house in just one day!
Click
"Spread your *** because that's what you're here for."
Click
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
I live in a town where my english teacher thinks they
actually talked like that in Shakespeare's plays.
I live in a town where being Catholic is good because then
you don't wear condoms.
I live in a town filled with backwoods principles and
the blackest white people you'll ever meet.
It's a town where it's not okay to be gay,
and you're a minority if you're not homophobic.
I live in a town where the people in the nicest cars have the best,
easiest jobs;
but the weakest minds.
And when you step outside you're door here, you'll see the
tar filled lines is the street with 10 guys
leaning on shovels as the rookie does 11 fold work.
So if you ever are driving through the province where our good
Stephen Harper *****
make sure you don't stop for coffee along the way.
Because Darling, this place is hell on earth.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 6:22 PM UTC
How Much Gets Me On A Bus? to the City?
(I live 30 minutes away)
more than this ever will - POETRY
I’ve been writing ‘poems’ ever since I remember
ever since 11 –
reciting these phenomenal words of wisdom
to any and all who would listen
forcing family-members & friends
that’s the thing about poetry,
it makes you feel like it’s important,
makes you think the words you sling together
aren’t really yours
it comes to you, through you, needs to come out of you,
and when its over you’re just as amazed
as they should be.
but they’re not, I mean
they like poetry, admire it,
even enjoy it sometimes,
but they could honestly
give it up in a heartbeat,
live without it.
You know what I mean?
I’m like you
like all the people who come here
I'm part poetry as poetry is me
A Dodge Poetry Attendee many years –
my arm once around Gwendolyn Brooks,
cried in a church with Lucille Clifton
talked Newark to Baraka –
know the honorable Slammer, Patricia Smith!
I’ve sat many years with the Lords of Literature - my professors
who all seemed to know “whose got it”
the intellectuals of American prose who seem to be searching for a rookie,
the next best troubadour college-student that will grace their faculty-doors…
The poetry I read here is incredible
Some of the best stuff on the net,
poignant, painful , honest, raw, sensual, serious – provokingly real
words I read here startle me, stun me at times
so clear in meaning, well-crafted, chosen words
unusually strong
They’re the kind of words the got-it people have,
the poet people (probably all people have)
poetry is just another way of finding an infallible song –
(I still say we should go sing it on the bus!)
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
****** man
Lurking in the corners
Evil smile
Meanwhile
A child
Alive
But barely
Can't pick of the phone
Who'll answer
A cop,
Rookie
Would be
A vet in time
But the shots
That hit his spine
Hit his soul a lot harder
Almost as hard as
The hits
From a ****
That used his fist
And never open hand,
Demands not met,
No speech
From the whore's throat
Silent night
Was supoosed to be
Holy
But the holey stockings
Was a worn out reminder,
The timer hit 12:00
on the 25th
But
A bowl of cheerios
No honey
No milk
Was bold
As the truth
It told
Like
The gifts
Never bought
Or the mall
Never shopped
In the cold
Black ice on the road at night
My car never fought so hard
To follow lights
Flurries proved
To be as blury
As the vision
From sippin
Too much wine
Red stains,
And lipstick
Secrets untold,
Focus on the road
Home is but a couple miles
But another cup
Would suffice
I'm willin to suffer the consequences
What will I sacrafice?
What's the price
For a few drinks
After supper?
Besides,
The bartender wouldnt of offered
Enough scotch
To make my mind alter
He's a friend to me,
What?
You mean to tell me,
That the end of me,
Is in a
Glass of hennessy
Ha!
Hail mary full of grace,
Full of faults
But full of faith
And as she prayed
The lord did praise
Amazed
Life proved to be a maze
But in the haze
A few rays
Would should shine her way
There were 2 sets
Of footprints
But a woman fell
There's been
1 set ever since
Carried
New Born
Born Again
And twice married
Widows tears
On a pillow
Bible never far
Closed eyes
Could still reach
Even in sleep
Wrinkles deep
A hot flash
of her age blinks
on the alarm
1:40
And one 40 year old woman
Who thinks
That if she keeps
His name in glory
Her story
Would end in peace.
Oct 31, 2010
Oct 31, 2010 at 3:31 PM UTC
LA burns, smoke blackens sky,
people flee and abandon cars,
90 and 100 mile an hour winds
feed and fan the flames, people
losing everything, even being
rich, or famous cannot save their
big homes and life's possessions.
Someplace in that expanding,
raging inferno my son, an Oregon
Fire Chief leads 300 Firefighters
and their 75 engines and water tenders
over 900 miles south into the fire storm.
Along with firefighters from other
states. Mutual support needed & rendered.
One of my son's firemen is his own son,
and my 21year old rookie grandson
with a little over one year on the job.
His seasoned father has fought many
battles with all kinds of fires, he set to
retire in May after 30 years on the job.
He has seen it all, with never a scratch
or a "singe", but my grandson has never
experienced anything of this magnitude,
being one of a 4-man truck crew battling
side by side in the belly of a raging beast.
All these 30 years I've worried for my son's
safety, now it starts anew, for our boy barely
a man that now walks in his father's shoes.
I will not sleep well until they are all
home safely. I grieve for the victims
of this awful tragedy.
Jan 9, 2025
Jan 9, 2025 at 12:37 AM UTC