For The Engines Will Be Coming

The fire station stood never far
from the post office
and the post office from the sea
where we young boys spent most of our
young lives
digging caves in sandstone banks
and when the sea came up,
surfing the large waves.

... The fire station stands next
to the post office, and the post office to the sea,
and as often as the young boys
tried to ignore the sound of the siren,
it could not be ignored.
If they stacked their houses high
with children and madness,
still it would not go away;
for the engine will be coming
for those who lie awake
and the best houses will quiver
in the orange light.

                            

POEMS FOR THE RED ENGINE

by Gary McCormick

Beware the man

Beware the man who tries to fit you out
In his idea of a hat.
Dictating the colour and the shape of it.

He takes your head and carefully measures it
Says of course "black's out"
He sees himself in the big black hat.

So you may be a member of the act
He makes for you your special coloured hat.
Beware! He's fitting you for more than that.
Sam Hunt