Cracker night (poem) by David J Delaney on AuthorsDen

Cracker night
by David J Delaney → (All Poetry by David J Delaney)
Rated "G" by the Author.

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What we got up to sometimes, when we were kids.From my book "Rhymes of Times"
Cracker night I want to tell a story so let me set the scene T’was some time ago, before “the chasers” and their team My brother, mate and myself were often called larrikins Playing pranks and jokes, sometimes copping some “shellackings” For weeks, went the planning selling papers for some cash Buying all manner of crackers, then hiding our secret stash From the speedway collecting soft drink bottles for some coin Then buying some skyrockets to watch sail off into the void Now as this night bore closer and anticipation grew We would have to sneak out to meet at a place we all knew The old church at Rocklea, at the back and underneath a tad Were all our fireworks, almost filling the old sugar bag Cracker night was here, the smell of sulphur in the air The cat and dog have gone, cowering under a bed somewhere Mum was a softie, with her we would get away with anything Asking “can we go to Larry’s and let some off with him” Asking while dad wasn’t near or the reply would be “No!” But mum softly saying”don’t be long boys now of you go” So go we did, us good boys never involved in any scheming If you really believe that last line you surely must be dreaming Rendezvouing at the old church and retrieving our treasured sack Stuffing our pockets and with the bag slung over Larry’s back The three of us heading off like adventurers into the night Oh! Yes, this surely would have been a worrying sight Near Mr. Jackson’s place, his letter box a replica of his house Where a devious plan was hatched, I snuck over quiet as a mouse Placing inside 4 taped “thunders” with a extra long wick Giggling a few meters away, expecting the roof to lift just a bit Well!! Our ears are ringing and with the smoke dispicitating This was a touch more than we were anticipating Colour drained from our faces so up the road like a bullet we shot Mr. Jackson now standing next to a post, swearing I’ll get you lot Hearts pounding and body’s shaking from this awful fright Running to the railway tracks on this unforgettable night Making a pact not to blow nice letter boxes into the air Instead make sure to pick one in need of dire repair My brother jumps up excitingly saying “I know where’s one” Grabs the bag and starts walking gesturing as to come There it was, out front of this big house on stilts Surely to blow this one won’t leave us with the guilt’s Oh! What a wreck it was battered, loose, dented and rusted We would be doing them a favor, shouldn’t get busted All was quiet and no lights were on, no one about So the three of us decided to help them out In went the “thunders” again and wick well primed Us waiting on the other side of the road this time The explosion echoed the night, left there now a rusted stand Lights came on, voices heard, once again up the road we ran Walking along a side road and thinking this was quite neat When around the corner a car slides making a big screech Fearing the worst I stash our bag and we empty our pockets The car stops and out flies a angry Mr. Roberts A huge truck driving man with a temper, I’ve been told Pinning us against a wall, in fear I felt my blood run cold “Please don’t hurt us,” I said, “we’re only having fun” “Your old letter box looked like it was on its last run” “It’s not the box that bothered me” saying as he lowered his hand “I thought, this is it my last breath here on this land” “Boys, think what could have been” and me just as much a fool For under my house 2 days ago, stored 7 large drums of fuel So driving away in the darkness he gives a couple of “toots” We’re still frozen against the wall, shaking in our boots Then retrieving our crackers and stowing them in our bag Deciding our cracker night is over, for this we are so glad A few days later, behind the old church we make a pact Never to blow up a letterbox, we just won’t do that Plenty of other pranks to do like changing a street sign But to you all my friends, that’s another story, another time David J Delaney (copywrited)

Reviewed by Tony Jenkins

Reviewed on January 22, 2009

Yes I know the experience all to well.

No wonder it's all but over.

Tony

Reviewed by Charlie

Reviewed on September 15, 2008

Oh... that would NOT have gone well, had they crackered that box! Good lesson in rhyme. --Charlie

Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner

Reviewed on July 17, 2008

David,

A rollicking tale of rememberance, well done. The mischief some get into! LOL

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.

Reviewed by Lois Christensen

Reviewed on July 12, 2008

Having a good time but dangerous and not to be taken literally and doing it often as you said. You were lucky that night not to get hurt, but you hurt that person who you did it too. He will forgive you though I know.

Reviewed by Karen Palumbo

Reviewed on July 11, 2008

Very interesting tale well expressed...

Be always safe,
Karen