Category: Biographical Poems

Niagara Falls 1972 (revised version) by Richard H. Fox


engine squeals, fan belt slaps severing all ties
   the gas pedal becomes a foot rest
in fading twilight two pairs of feet track neon winks
   thunderclaps drown their steps
they sprint through puddles giggling and shivering
   register as man and wife in the motel shack

their cabin has one twin bed
    she hangs wet blouse and jeans - "I'll shower first if that's ok"
he dangles wet t-shirt and cuttoffs next to hers

she emerges wearing a white towel
       drapes it over the headboard
                  raises the patchwork quilt
                              folds back the sheets
                                         arranges the pillows
                                                    slips into bed

he retreats into the bathroom
slides off underwear
lets hot stream douse hair
wraps towel round waist
leans on tub patting forehead cheeks chin...
opens door flips towel on dresser
jumps under covers

she smiles -
         "Are you ok?
                   You look nervous."

        he met her, a college ride board refugee, at breakfast sixteen hours ago;
        her  other sat  opposite pulling on the straps  of a pale  gingham dress,
        long blonde hair unbound,  garden flower  above left ear - "Thank you for
        taking our daughter." - her father  patted his  back, shook hands nodding
        slowly, kissed his child on  the cheek,  opened the car door, turned away

        strangers in bucket seats, she told jokes, sewed a loose button on his shirt,
        made sandwiches on french bread - tomatoes, roasted peppers, fresh cilantro -
        smiled  whenever he  looked,  laughed  nervously  at the New York  state line

she lies on her side, faces the wall, switches off the lamp
he stares at the ceiling, holds breath, hears the current of her sighs break on white pillowcase

he could brush the hair off her shoulder
       trace the shape of her arm
               stroke the course of her spine
                       to her hip
                               across her thigh
                                       drift along belly - her rounded belly

tomorrow feet in cold stirrups

he sleeps on his back, hands on stomach

in the morning, the motel manager asks "How's your wife?"
snaps a shot of the couple, brunette and blonde in greyscale, next to a highway sign
   "Niagara Falls 18 mi"

Source: The author, 2001
Click here to see a previous version of this poem.

Richard H. Fox’s website

The Assassination of John Lennon as Depicted by the Madame Tussaud Wax Museum, Niagara Falls, Ontario, 1987 by David Wojahn

Portrait of John Lennon & Yoko Ono at Niagara Falls
John Lennon & Yoko Ono at Niagara Falls

Smuggled human hair from Mexico
Falls radiant around the waxy O

Of her scream. Shades on, leather coat and pants, Yoko
On her knees — like the famous Kent State photo

Where the girl can’t shriek her boyfriend alive, her arms
Windmilling Ohio sky.
A pump in John’s chest heaves

To mimic death throes. The blood is made of latex.
His glasses, broken on the plastic sidewalk.

A scowling David Chapman, his arms outstretched,
His pistol barrel spiraling fake smoke

In a siren’s red wash, completes the composition,
And somewhere background music plays “Imagine”

Before the tableau darkens. We push a button
To renew the scream.
The chest starts up again.

Source: David Wojahn. Mystery Train. Pittsburgh, University of Pittsburgh Press, ©1990.

N.B. – The Tussaud Wax Museum does not have an exhibit such as this – in correspondence with the author he imagined this scenario, and figured that Tussaud’s would be the logical place to have it if it existed.

Niagara Falls by John Robert Colombo

(a found poem from the unpublished writings of Bishop John Strachan)

sublime niagara falls
Bishop John Strachan

My brother, after some hesitation,
ventured down the precipice;
and, having reached the bed
of the river below,
we were well rewarded.
It was now
that my expectations were realized:
the height of the rock —
the thundering of the Fall —
the spray forming in rain-bows —
the vast volume of water
rolling over the impending precipice,
produced a sensation overpoweringly
sublime.

 

Source: Colombo, John Robert; and Strachan, John. John Toronto: New Poems by Dr. Strachan Found by John Robert Colombo. [Ottawa] : Oberon Press, 1969.

From the dust jacket: The poems are taken verbatim from Strachan’s uncollected writings. They are poems by virtue of the special character of their eloquence. They are new in that they speak with fresh urgency and directness to a new age.

Click here to see a biography of Bishop Strachan from the Dictionary of Canadian Biography

A Cow and Ice Cream by Betty J. Beam

(a children’s poem) Laura Secord

laura secord
Photo courtesy of the Petrie Collection, Niagara Falls Public Library

Laura Secord, by the record
Of the conflict of eighteen-twelve,
Walked twenty miles through wood and stream,
Queenston – Beaverdams, right on beam!
Surprise Attack! was her one theme.
A forewarned, forearmed British team
Thwarted the American scheme!

Some people vow she drove a cow,
Others are quick to deny it.
I wonder did she ever dream
That she’d be held in high esteem —
A heroine renowned, I deem,
For confections that are supreme,
Rich chocolates and super ice cream!

Source: The Author, 2001
N.B. Laura Secord is also the name of a chain of stores selling ice cream and chocolate products.

Click to see more poems about the Battle of Beaverdams and other Poems of the War of 1812 in Niagara

Brock’s Monument by Betty J. Beam

(a children’s poem)

Brock’s Monument at Queenston Heights by Reg Deacon. Photo courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library

I climbed up Brock's Monument
    With a leap, a skip, a hop.
I climbed up Brock's Monument
    From the bottom to the top.
I climbed up Brock's Monument
    And I did it without one stop.
BUT --
Two hundred and thirty-five steps
    And I'm ready to drop!

General Brock rode Alfred
    On the daring fateful ride.
Sword drawn, he scaled Queenston Heights,
    British Red Coats at his side
The Americans could not
    Gain the summit, though they tried.
BUT --
Musket and cannon came alive
    And the man and horse died!

I climbed up Brock's Monument
    When tulips were in flower.
I climbed up Brock's Monument
    In less than half an hour.
I climbed up Brock's Monument
    Using my muscle power.
BUT --
I'm glad there's an elevator
    In the CN Tower!

Source: The Author, 2001