The Job

Just another day at work!

A tribute to our Heros,

The Heros Walk of Fame,

At every yard along that path,

A sporting hero's name

You enter through a golden gate,

What an awesome sight!

Dawn Fraser sculptured on the left,

John Newcombe on the right.

 

Trevor's Concrete Co awarded

The paving contract prize.

The Prime Minister set herself

As the one to supervise.

She said “At stake our national pride,

This job cannot be late,

And most important to be sure,

You watch that bloody gate”.

 

It was early in the morning

On a chilly Melbourne Day,

Two miles of paving to pour, 

Most would say, “No Way!”.

The sound of “The concrete is Here!”,

Came ringing through the mist,

Half  finished cups of coffee tossed,

“Bugger” Bretty hissed.

 

That annoying beep beep beep,

Of the reversing truck,

Interrupted as it shunted,

Through some slimy muck.

There were multiple attempts

With an awful lot of revving,

But oh, the look on Trevor’s face, 

Showed he was far from heaven.

 

Things were getting really tense,

Darcy’s glasses now all fogged,

“Oh Heck!”  he cried a sorry note

“The bloody truck is bogged!”.

The sound of Trevor’s silence,

Was ringing in their ears,

The crew stood stiff in terror,

This was the sum of all their fears.

 

They expected that first concrete truck

To quickly come and go,

Now it seemed they had three more, 

All waiting in a row.

One hundred yards from truck to job,

The boys began to wheel,

Barrowing  up that nasty hill,

What a crappy deal?

 

Struggling up that slippery  track,

And through the gate still panting,

They tipped it at the boss’  feet,

You shoulda  heard him ranting.

They were never gunna do it,

The pace was slowing down,

By now the boys were thinking

Of clearing outa town.

 

Things were looking awfully grim,

It seemed they had no hope,

When the strangest sight appeared

Coming up the slope.

Through the fog such a brilliant light,

With a halo all around.

They were hoping it be the Lord,

To ascend them from the ground.

 

It was indeed salvation,

But not in holy way,

It was Maxy on the Bobcat,

About to save the day.

Max the youngest of Trevor's sons

He was only ten years old,

He drove machines before he walked,

He was brave, courageous and bold.

 

Trevor a non believer shouted,

“It won’t fit through that gate!”

As there was no time to explain,

The boss would have to wait.

With a bucket full of concrete

Max steered it through the mush,

Then charging at that golden gate

It was happening in a rush.

 

A pale Trevor gasped in horror,

This would be his ruin,

But Max was cool as a cucumber,

He knew what he was doing.

But the bucket it was six feet wide,

The opening a little less,

It was pretty clear that all did fear

An awfully expensive mess.

 

Maxy lifted up that bucket

To its maximum extent.

The  bloody gate was higher,

And  about to get bent.

But our hero had it covered,

A mono he did pop,

On back wheels only up it went,

Another clear inch,  right over the top.

 

The Bobcat wheels were not as wide,

As the widest part,

Max with nerves of steel,

And a great big heart.

All day Max showed his talent,

He drove it with such flare,

Each time he snudged it through that gate,

A mere half inch to spare.

 

All the concrete on that job

Carted by Max that day,

They actually went home early,

Had McDonalds on the way.

At home they walked in through the door

And Linda said “How did ya go?”.

All that Trevor had to say was,

“Yeah, ….so so.”

 

Around the family barbeques’s,

Tall stories of the past.

But the tale how Maxy saved  that job, 

Seems to last and last.

Exaggeration helps with time

Each version more incredible,

For all those present on that day,

 The memory indelible.

 

The time has passed, so many years on

Trevor  just rocks his chair,

He doesn't respond and you would think,

There’s nothing left up there.

But news of the Hero's Walk of Fame,

Brings out a heavy sigh,

He actually gets excited,

And there’s a twinkle in his eye.

 

 

Reviews

[Aethereal]

This is really a great poem with a wonderful story. I had a little practice fun making an inspired rendition of your last verse which you may have as a gift. I interlaced my rhyme using first seven syllables and then five. Leave your last verse as is if you want to because yours is just one good way of many other ways of writing it. I'm just saying that sometime in the future, you might want to try overlapping metered rhyme in one of your poems, or rewrite one of your poems as such. I have no intention of doing this with the rest of your verses because this is your poem and not mine, and too much of you would be in it if I wrote it this way for me to keep it for myself without feeling guilty. You're on your own here.

Trevor at Rest

Many years since then have pasted.
Trevor rocks his chair
not responding vary fast,
but at times he'll rear

when a Hero's telecast
brings a joyful tear
to each of his eyes at last
with a twinkle there.

[Keith]

Thank you again Athereal, that does read very well and I like the shortened meter. However, it doesn't seem to work so well with the Aussie tongue, we don't exctly speak English. But thank you for your input, I have tried to apply your previous advice in my recent works, hopefully it is improving accordingly. Regards, Keith.

[Aethereal]

Nor would Modern English fit in with Geoffrey Chaucer's Middle English tongue. Chaucer's " The Canterbury Tales" needed to be translated into Modern English to make sense of it for most readers: English has always been an evolving language. Write your poems as you will, but they may need to be redone a hundred years from now to make sense unless Australia conquers the world and forces its language onto everyone. You seem to be trying to perpetuate the Aussie tongue through your poetry. Ok, I can deal with that. Chaucer's attempt didn't work, but yours just might.

"Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth..." (Chaucer's beautiful prologue to The Canterbury Tales)

[Angi]

Ten yera old Maxy saves the day! I love the twinkle in Trevors eye. Your works are always so good, Keith. I enjoy them so much! Angi~

[Keith]

Thank you again Angi.

[Nia Hope]

Very sweet story I love it :)

[Keith]

Thank you Ankara.

[Marie]

Wonderful story.

Salvation came in the form of a boy on a Bobcat...and he was a real hero that day...
I hope he has his own statue.

[Keith]

Thank you again Marie.

[carol burgess romance]

I always love your verse..such wonderful tales...vivid imagery......great write

[Keith]

Thank you so much Carol, you are nearly always the first to rr each one. I love to hear from you.

[carol burgess romance]

you are welcome

[Archangel Gabriel]

An epic tale indeed and told in a lyrical tone of cantering verse.

[Keith]

Thank you Gabriel.