Category: Accidents

Figure Eights by Keith Inman

keith
Keith Inman

Jesse held the ladder as the heat of machinery
whirled with production.

A shower of grit fell on his head.

Overhead, Gary rustled about
on the rack of pipes near the ceiling,
one foot resting on the top rung,
the other kicked free.

“Hold the fricken thing steady.  If I fall,
I’m fallin’ on you.  Where was I?  Oh yeah.
Lost the house last strike,” his hammer
rang steel.  He took another swing and clipped
the wing of a bracket as the ladder twisted, pulling
out of Jesse’s hand; a jilted
dance partner doing a stilted, stiff-legged step
across ice
it bowed
into the cogs
of the machine.

Mangled aluminium whirled
down the gears like a thrown skater.

Alarms pealed, the machine
chewed to a stop.

Gary’s feet swung high above Jesse’s head.
“We better get our story straight.”

Source: John B. Lee (comp.) Arborealis: A Canadian Poetry Anthology, 2018.  Toronto: The Ontario Poetry Society, 2018.

Figure Eights won the first prize of the Ontario Poetry Society contest.  His poem  Rock Paper Scissors  won the third prize, and his poems Crewed  and Rally each was a winner of the Judge’s Choice award in the same contest.

Declared a ‘people’s poet’ by John B. Lee and Dr. Elspeth Cameron, for his blue collar style, Inman’s work has earned him a variety of grants and contest awards. A first chapbook, Hanging on a Nail, with two other Niagara Poets at Sigilate Press, sold over 500 copies. And a first Trade book, The War Poems: Screaming at Heaven from Black Moss Press, received a review from Canlit #223, who compared his work with Atwood and Itani. Keith lives and writes in Niagara. 

The Niagara Dead by T. W. Kriner

dead
The Casket of George Stathakis, After His Fatal Attempt to go Over Niagara Falls in a Barrel, July 5, 1930.
Photo courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library

Jumpers and boaters and fame-hungry fools
end up in the gorge, in the eddies and pools,
or spattered on stone, or locked in the ice.
There’s no way to die here the sane would call nice.

Source: T. W. Kriner, 2025

T. W. Kriner is the author of Journeys to the Brink of Doom (1997), In the Mad Water (1999), Twelve Dozen Four-by-Fours (2025), and The Call of Tawiskaro (2025).  He lives in a Western New York swamp with his wife and two cats.

Kriner says:
About three years ago I began writing what I call four-by-four poems:   four lines with four beats per line, usually with a pair of rhyming couplets.  The challenge for me was to do at least one or more of the following in each poem:  tell a story;  paint a picture;  evoke or share a memory;  express a political opinion;  convey my view on a particular subject;  do something else while trying to get a laugh.   I’ve recently posted a fair number of them at  All Poetry .com, if you’d care to sample. 

The Late Fisherman in the Niagara Gorge by T. W. Kriner

fisherman
Fisherman on Rock in Niagara River Just Above the Falls. Photo by Andrew Porteus, March 27, 2003

While trying to rescue his tackle box,
he tripped into the current from his perch on the rocks.
He floundered then foundered and, just like a stone,
he went to the bottom. He died there alone.

Source: The author, 2025

T. W. Kriner is the author of Journeys to the Brink of Doom (1997), In the Mad Water (1999), Twelve Dozen Four-by-Fours (2025), and The Call of Tawiskaro (2025).  He lives in a Western New York swamp with his wife and two cats.

The Late Fisherman in the Niagara Gorge is loosely based on an incident witnessed by Kriner’s son’s father-in-law.

Kriner says:
About three years ago I began writing what I call four-by-four poems:   four lines with four beats per line, usually with a pair of rhyming couplets.  The challenge for me was to do at least one or more of the following in each poem:  tell a story;  paint a picture;  evoke or share a memory;  express a political opinion;  convey my view on a particular subject;  do something else while trying to get a laugh.   I’ve recently posted a fair number of them at  All Poetry .com, if you’d care to sample. 

Niagara Falls by Alexander Duringer

 

duringer
Joseph Avery Stranded in the Niagara River
Photo by Platt Babbitt, July 19, 1853. Image courtesy Niagara Falls Public Library (NY)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Source:  Niagara Falls by Alexander Duringer was originally published in Passengers Journal, volume 3, issue 1

Alexander Duringer is a reformed English teacher from Western New York currently living in Raleigh, NC where he studies as an MFA candidate at North Carolina State University with a concentration in poetry. He received his Masters in English Education from SUNY Buffalo in 2015. He is a winner of the Academy of American Poets Prize and received an Honorable Mention for the Dorianne Laux Prize for Poetry.  In addition to this poem in Passengers Review, his poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The South Dakota Review, &Change, Plainsongs, Cola Literary Review, The Shore, and Poets.org among others. 

 

February 4, 1912 by Jessie Clark

clark
Ice Bridge at Niagara Falls, In Memory of Mr. and Mrs. Stanton and Burrell Hecock

‘Twas on a Sabbath morning,
    From distant homes they strayed,
To see our old Niagara
    In her mantle of white arrayed.

And with Jack Frost’s protection,
    The tourists thought how grand
To be on the noted ice bridge
    Anywhere to stand.

But the strength of Frost was feeble,
    Compared with mighty force
Of the rushing undercurrent
    Unchanging in its course.

For soon the ice was parted
    And, alas!  too quickly was seen
People on glassy islands
    Floating down the stream.

And there was Mrs. Stanton
    Just paralyzed with fear,
Saying to her husband
    Let us die right here. 

Poem Accompanying the Memorial Card

Near by a brave young laddie,
    Who was running his life to save,
Heard the call: “Come back and help us
    To escape a watery grave.”

And as he thus responded
    To try and save another
He said to his companion:
    “Don’t you tell my mother.”

But a message of mental telepathy
    To that mother quickly flashed,
While ropes were dangling here and there
    And the cruel waters splashed.

For she saw in a glass of water
    Ice and people, too,
Rushing about confusedly,
    Knowing not what to do.

Then she thought of the treacherous river,
    That water so fierce and wild,
And exclaimed: “I have a presentiment
    Something has happened to my child!”

Brave men worked hard to save
    The two who still remained
On that block of ice much smaller
    Than when it first was framed.

For, Oh, they were surrounded
    By Niagara’s silvery crest,
Which none were allowed to step on:
    Not even a noted guest.

Kneeling in prayer they were ushered,
    The time was very brief,
Until the Whirlpool caught them
    And gave them sweet relief.

Image and insert containing the poem by Jessie Clark courtesy of Niagara Falls Museums, accession number 2024.016.29. Many thanks to Assistant Curator Sara Byers for bringing this to my attention.

Read about the tragedy here.