I heard the sirens ringing behind me. I pulled over.
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong!” I yelled. Thats when I noticed who pulled me over.
“Oh, its you.” I smiled.
She walked back in forth in front of the door. Pacing nervously, angrily. Back and forth. Back and forth. No matter who came, no matter who they sent. She would not let them through. This was too important. All she knew above anything else was she could not fail.
The squad car came around the corner, but Jesse had already started running. He’d seen the flashing blue lights two minutes before. Ducking into a dark alleyway and then into an even darker doorframe, he smiled as the car drove past him.
Patrolling the streets. It’s an honorable task, he supposes, as he treads along. Probably. He thinks of his family at home, his little daughter in bed with his wife tucking her in. He shivers in the cold and imagines a warm fireplace in the living room, where his wife might sit and darn socks and clothes. Maybe.
Thumping of boots. Rhythmic. One after another. Rows and rows of polished black shoes treading after each other, patrolling the borders of a city in decay. There’s never a falter as the guards go along, never. They continue along their way, expecting commands, protecting the city.
The patrol will go all night, will go forever.
walking on patrol, dogs barking running after me. i can’t keep up, tripping over my own feet, running away, trying to get away. fast and faster i go, they keep on my me. those officers on patrol.
moving, one. you are never able to get away, its the patrol, the watch, always there. A jail for the desperate, a punishment for the weak. we thought it would be a better home, a place safe for our family, my little sister.
and still they walk up and down the fence, my only clock is their unchanging pace. one. two.three.four.
never. never.
its not a raven mocking me in my loneliness, but a kukaburra mocking my very existence, laughing.
Ezra’s letter was hard to read. He had lost his eyeglasses while out on patrol, and when he got back to the camp, had sat on a stump by the fire, writing with dull pencil on damp paper. “Dear farther,” he had written, “I have ben on sentry duty – lost my spectickles but caught a johny reb spy near camp.”
there was a patrol waiting outside the doors. I did not know why it came here. Heard people screamed earlier on. But nothing happened. I believed. Or did it? Patrol is here anyway, great looking lady and guy
nissan patrol are one tye of offroading vehicles. They are quite good looking plus have a very hard tough look too. They are massive in size but look great in black color. I really like them and i wish i had one.
means going through to make sure things or the situation is how it’s supposed to be. for example, you can say; my boss patrols the office space two to three time a day.
Patrolling with the other guards I feel ready to take my gun from its holder and shoot every infidel that have mercilessly killed my people. But I wait I know my revenge will come soon as me and my brothers have planned. I’m thinking of taking out the one who boats about the efficiency of his gun when my ear piece buzzes.
Its freezing here. Moving around just makes me feel colder. Do I need to patrol the house at intervals at night, listening to the flapping of the plastic sheeting where there was once brick? The danger there is the cast off bricks that litter the garden in random piles. It is like living in a giant’s sandpit or mud puddle. I keep waiting for the hand in the sky to reach down, pick me up and shake me. What possessed me to start renovating?
The moment before, you could hear a pin drop. Next; a loud bang, a scream, blood running down her tired face. He didn’t just hit her once. It was twice. Three times.
Kent was reluctant to go in to work that night. He finally pulled his sheets off, mumbling to himself about the ‘joys’ of night shifts. Slipping in to that navy blue uniform, he head out the door, ready for another round on patrol. Little did he know what he would see that night.
The officer pace the road, looking for the expected robber. “They said he would be here any second!” the man thought to himself, right before being taken out from behind.
They were almost at the corner. The shadows wouldn’t last much longer as the lights gradually slipped across the face of the building before them. Running faster while still in darkness to move only slowly and casually once spotted. It was a fine art. The patrol would see them in only a few seconds and we would know.
The officer is blue heard a noise in the bushes. He turned, and before he could think he was knocked to the ground. Agent Snow had knocked him out, and now it was her job to retrieve the diamond. She made her way along the wall.
Hiccups
are like awkward chickens.
Poems are like
awkward sentences
mingled with sense
and wisdom,
like a penny hitting the ground
tails up.
And sometimes life
is an awkward breath,
a frantic inhalement of air
until you take a few breaths
and breathe out,
slowly at first,
eyes open wide,
until you take a sip
of lemon juice
and a tear falls out of your eye,
until you wake up
and realize life
is one hiccup
after the next,
and you laugh
and catch your breath,
waiting for another to hit you.
The patrol passed, one of the men’s feet kicking a stone onto my face. I didn’t move, holding my breath and watching the puffs of dust settle in the moonlight that filtered through the branches of the shrubbery. I breathed out carefully, still anxious that the dogs had come out with them. This was very unusual as they weren’t due to pass my hiding spot for another 3 minutes. I wondered why they had come out early.
I’m on patrol. Walking back and forth along the line of this fence. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I know to be alert and to not stop looking. I don’t question anything. Out loud. I don’t understand how we came to this point. All men over the age of 16 walking along this fence with guns. Why is there even a fence? What could be on the other side that is so dangerous to our existence?
She slowly walked into the house. the police were patrolling her front porch looking for clues to the murder… she crept upstairs to hide her precious knife…
In the movies the lackeys patrol the perimeter. This breed of “trained” guard is consistently oblivious. Perhaps that is why they always die so suddenly. Then bad puns ensue based on the manner of their disposal.
Get pushed into a volcano? “Well, he’s fired.”
Get thrown off a cliff? “What a smashing way to exit.”
Get electrocuted in a bathtub? “He’s had his last smoke.”
Get eaten by sharks? “What a good chum, so sorry to loose him.”
Get garroted from behind? “Alas, he’s all choked up.”
I enjoy above everything else to talk about these things that rush up and down my head everytime I get the chance to find you. However, this time, not even me could over see what was about to occur to this story that once begun. Nor my friends or the officer on patrol could have known what happened that night, that night when everything change between you and I.
I was on the evening patrol for this month. Man, it sure was a hard thing to do. I dont understand how people can live without properly seeing the sun. Good thing I have my good friend Murdock here with me. We met each other during our first days of boot camp.
He never worked the night shifts, but once his curiosity was peaked, he always sought to have it satisfied. It was because of his tendency that he was out roaming the city streets on his fifth night of evening patrol, his secret hopes that another attempted major crime would break out flooding his mind. Yes, it was something that he truly didn’t want to occur, but the sole reason for his wishes was because such trouble could possibly lure out the mystery masked vigilante who stopped the huge robbery at the city bank last weekend.
The night is dark and you’re all alone. You sweep the light back and forth, back and forth looking into the shadows. Listening as hard as you can for any movement. Your breath fogs out in front of you and you tense in your jacket. You’re cold and wish you weren’t the one on night duty.
A small patrol was sent ahead to canvas the area for remaining enemies. Joe was part of it. He dreaded the very thought that he might die now, at the end of it all. He found himself wishing it were a replacement in his place. Someboby who hadn’t seen what he had seen these past few years. Someone who would die unknowingly.
The cat patrols our home every night, sticking his nose into the smallest of spaces, checking for invaders.
Once happy that only the members of the family are present, he then comes to me, to report all is safe. He does this with nudges until I am awake, then he curls up to sleep at the top of my pillow.
I heard the sirens ringing behind me. I pulled over.
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong!” I yelled. Thats when I noticed who pulled me over.
“Oh, its you.” I smiled.
She walked back in forth in front of the door. Pacing nervously, angrily. Back and forth. Back and forth. No matter who came, no matter who they sent. She would not let them through. This was too important. All she knew above anything else was she could not fail.
The squad car came around the corner, but Jesse had already started running. He’d seen the flashing blue lights two minutes before. Ducking into a dark alleyway and then into an even darker doorframe, he smiled as the car drove past him.
“Maybe next time, Pigs!” he thought.
Hello, my name is Álvaro, I’m 22 years old. I’m studing ingeenier. The next year I am going to finish me career and I am going to live in Madrid.
Patrolling the streets. It’s an honorable task, he supposes, as he treads along. Probably. He thinks of his family at home, his little daughter in bed with his wife tucking her in. He shivers in the cold and imagines a warm fireplace in the living room, where his wife might sit and darn socks and clothes. Maybe.
Thumping of boots. Rhythmic. One after another. Rows and rows of polished black shoes treading after each other, patrolling the borders of a city in decay. There’s never a falter as the guards go along, never. They continue along their way, expecting commands, protecting the city.
The patrol will go all night, will go forever.
walking on patrol, dogs barking running after me. i can’t keep up, tripping over my own feet, running away, trying to get away. fast and faster i go, they keep on my me. those officers on patrol.
A cop on duty. A lover waiting. Pacing. Tension. Watchful. Sometimes you wonder why you’re doing this. Sometimes you just patrol.
moving, one. you are never able to get away, its the patrol, the watch, always there. A jail for the desperate, a punishment for the weak. we thought it would be a better home, a place safe for our family, my little sister.
and still they walk up and down the fence, my only clock is their unchanging pace. one. two.three.four.
never. never.
its not a raven mocking me in my loneliness, but a kukaburra mocking my very existence, laughing.
police car driving up and down the street. On the look out for something that may be harmful or dangerous. Warilly watchful.
you mean police patrol? ’cause i think of london people’s police when i hear that word for some reason.
“Nothing’s going to happen tonight,” said Mike. “Nothing at all.”
Beside him, his partner turned in the seat of the patrol car.
“That sucks.”
Ezra’s letter was hard to read. He had lost his eyeglasses while out on patrol, and when he got back to the camp, had sat on a stump by the fire, writing with dull pencil on damp paper. “Dear farther,” he had written, “I have ben on sentry duty – lost my spectickles but caught a johny reb spy near camp.”
there was a patrol waiting outside the doors. I did not know why it came here. Heard people screamed earlier on. But nothing happened. I believed. Or did it? Patrol is here anyway, great looking lady and guy
nissan patrol are one tye of offroading vehicles. They are quite good looking plus have a very hard tough look too. They are massive in size but look great in black color. I really like them and i wish i had one.
means going through to make sure things or the situation is how it’s supposed to be. for example, you can say; my boss patrols the office space two to three time a day.
Patrolling with the other guards I feel ready to take my gun from its holder and shoot every infidel that have mercilessly killed my people. But I wait I know my revenge will come soon as me and my brothers have planned. I’m thinking of taking out the one who boats about the efficiency of his gun when my ear piece buzzes.
Its freezing here. Moving around just makes me feel colder. Do I need to patrol the house at intervals at night, listening to the flapping of the plastic sheeting where there was once brick? The danger there is the cast off bricks that litter the garden in random piles. It is like living in a giant’s sandpit or mud puddle. I keep waiting for the hand in the sky to reach down, pick me up and shake me. What possessed me to start renovating?
The moment before, you could hear a pin drop. Next; a loud bang, a scream, blood running down her tired face. He didn’t just hit her once. It was twice. Three times.
Kent was reluctant to go in to work that night. He finally pulled his sheets off, mumbling to himself about the ‘joys’ of night shifts. Slipping in to that navy blue uniform, he head out the door, ready for another round on patrol. Little did he know what he would see that night.
The prison warden walked purposefully in the darkness towards the guards on patrol. Completely unaware of the quiet football behind him.
The officer pace the road, looking for the expected robber. “They said he would be here any second!” the man thought to himself, right before being taken out from behind.
“…Pathetic.”
They were almost at the corner. The shadows wouldn’t last much longer as the lights gradually slipped across the face of the building before them. Running faster while still in darkness to move only slowly and casually once spotted. It was a fine art. The patrol would see them in only a few seconds and we would know.
It was night. It was cold. My partner and I were on patrol at the docks.
The wind picked up and I shivered, pulling my jacket tighter.
That’s when I heard the splash and a quick, terrified shriek.
“Milly?” I called into the fridged air. “Milly?!”
The splash sounded once more….
The officer is blue heard a noise in the bushes. He turned, and before he could think he was knocked to the ground. Agent Snow had knocked him out, and now it was her job to retrieve the diamond. She made her way along the wall.
I’m on patrol.
I’m on patrol.
I’m on patroooooooooool!
Spongebob song.
HYFR.
Hiccups
are like awkward chickens.
Poems are like
awkward sentences
mingled with sense
and wisdom,
like a penny hitting the ground
tails up.
And sometimes life
is an awkward breath,
a frantic inhalement of air
until you take a few breaths
and breathe out,
slowly at first,
eyes open wide,
until you take a sip
of lemon juice
and a tear falls out of your eye,
until you wake up
and realize life
is one hiccup
after the next,
and you laugh
and catch your breath,
waiting for another to hit you.
“Wait! Jackson!” I turned around to find my partner clutching the back of my shirt in his hands. “We can’t go yet!”
“Well, why not?” I asked, slightly peeved. The diamond was placed basically 10 feet below us in the vents, and it looks so easy to steal.
He shoved my shoulder. “Look, there’s some gray haired guy on patrol.”
The patrol passed, one of the men’s feet kicking a stone onto my face. I didn’t move, holding my breath and watching the puffs of dust settle in the moonlight that filtered through the branches of the shrubbery. I breathed out carefully, still anxious that the dogs had come out with them. This was very unusual as they weren’t due to pass my hiding spot for another 3 minutes. I wondered why they had come out early.
I’m on patrol. Walking back and forth along the line of this fence. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I know to be alert and to not stop looking. I don’t question anything. Out loud. I don’t understand how we came to this point. All men over the age of 16 walking along this fence with guns. Why is there even a fence? What could be on the other side that is so dangerous to our existence?
She slowly walked into the house. the police were patrolling her front porch looking for clues to the murder… she crept upstairs to hide her precious knife…
In the movies the lackeys patrol the perimeter. This breed of “trained” guard is consistently oblivious. Perhaps that is why they always die so suddenly. Then bad puns ensue based on the manner of their disposal.
Get pushed into a volcano? “Well, he’s fired.”
Get thrown off a cliff? “What a smashing way to exit.”
Get electrocuted in a bathtub? “He’s had his last smoke.”
Get eaten by sharks? “What a good chum, so sorry to loose him.”
Get garroted from behind? “Alas, he’s all choked up.”
The man cruised up beside me.
I could see the patrol car in my rear view.
Oh oh.
He stopped, and stepped out…
I hit it to the floor….
I enjoy above everything else to talk about these things that rush up and down my head everytime I get the chance to find you. However, this time, not even me could over see what was about to occur to this story that once begun. Nor my friends or the officer on patrol could have known what happened that night, that night when everything change between you and I.
Lortap. Patrol every corner of his mind at all times. It’s a sit down in your pajamas at home kinda job.
I was on the evening patrol for this month. Man, it sure was a hard thing to do. I dont understand how people can live without properly seeing the sun. Good thing I have my good friend Murdock here with me. We met each other during our first days of boot camp.
He never worked the night shifts, but once his curiosity was peaked, he always sought to have it satisfied. It was because of his tendency that he was out roaming the city streets on his fifth night of evening patrol, his secret hopes that another attempted major crime would break out flooding his mind. Yes, it was something that he truly didn’t want to occur, but the sole reason for his wishes was because such trouble could possibly lure out the mystery masked vigilante who stopped the huge robbery at the city bank last weekend.
there’s a beautiful actres named gweneth an she makes as juliet…then she falls in love an thats the important part of this,
The night is dark and you’re all alone. You sweep the light back and forth, back and forth looking into the shadows. Listening as hard as you can for any movement. Your breath fogs out in front of you and you tense in your jacket. You’re cold and wish you weren’t the one on night duty.
A small patrol was sent ahead to canvas the area for remaining enemies. Joe was part of it. He dreaded the very thought that he might die now, at the end of it all. He found himself wishing it were a replacement in his place. Someboby who hadn’t seen what he had seen these past few years. Someone who would die unknowingly.
The cat patrols our home every night, sticking his nose into the smallest of spaces, checking for invaders.
Once happy that only the members of the family are present, he then comes to me, to report all is safe. He does this with nudges until I am awake, then he curls up to sleep at the top of my pillow.