would you all please post poems, stories, or even songs that we all can use to remember fallen firefighters
I Am Your Firefighter
I AM YOUR FIREFIGHTER
I spend 1/3 of my life away from my family, so I can protect you and your family.
I love you, even though I have never met you.
I would gladly die to save your life, or the lives of your neighbors.
I gladly risk injury to protect your property.
I love my life. I chose this life above anything else in the world.
I am your firefighter. When something terrible happens in your life, you can always call me.
I am waiting for that call. It is what I live for.
I will come flying to your home or business to assist you in any way I can.
My food can wait to be eaten.
The training class I am taking can be paused, because you called.
I am your firefighter. I hurt. I cry. I laugh. I am human.
I learn to cope with neglect from you.
I have so many things to offer, but somehow I get lost in the political shuffle.
I work, and think, and try to come up with ways to make your community better, safer.
I put all those things aside the minute the Alarm rings, and you need me.
I am your firefighter. The call comes in… “There’s smoke in my bedroom”
I am on the way. Only 3 of us on this fire truck, but we’ll do our best.
Blackness is all you see, choking, blinding, smoky, blackness.
A hand is touching you. It is rough and bulky, covered in a glove.
I hand you to my partner, then search on for someone else.
I am your firefighter. Sunlight breaks on your face as you leave the burning structure.
Safe. Safe. Safe. Breathe the clean air. Breathe
You hear a loud mechanical wailing coming from the building.
The one who brought you out, yells, “If we only had more men” and rushes back in.
Now he is dragging another who looks like him out the door.
I am that firefighter. You watch as the fire truck drives slowly by.
The wailing siren breaks the quiet morning.
The slow parade of firefighters marches past you.
The flag above you waves softly in the breeze, but halfway down.
The flag over me is still. For you see…
I was your firefighter. Don’t cry for me. Cry for my wife.
Don’t pray for me. Pray for my brother firefighters who need the strength.
Don’t let my life be in vain. Do all you can to help my Fire Department.
Don’t say “What a tragedy”, Thank God another life was saved.
You see, I chose this life. It is all I have ever wanted.
I am A Firefighter!
- Submitted by: Bradley Henderson
Skyland Fire Department
+ Reply to Thread
Results 1 to 12 of 12
09-25-2002, 01:37 AM #1
Firefighter poems and stories we can use to remember fallen firefighter2197 10-8<br />stay safe have fun stay healthy<br />
09-25-2002, 01:46 AM #2
From Arms to Wings
I died three years ago in a fire saving the life of a young boy named Judah. I suppose this was the crucial event that led me to my present position. I didn’t know Judah.
I had merely been walking home one night after work to find flames and screams coming from the house on the corner of fifth and Sixth Avenue. Within seconds, before a thought crossed my mind, I was in the house amongst the flames searching for the source of the screams. I crawled through the thick and smothering smoke and came across a small body huddled near a window. He had his eyes squeezed shut and his hands over his ears as if it would protect him. He continued to scream until he sensed my presence. He opened his eyes and became silent.
As he looked at me, peace seemed to wrap itself around him. I threw him over my shoulders and turned back the way I had come in. For a moment the flames illuminated Judah’s face. He looked into my eyes and said the three words that changed everything. “My Guardian Angel”.
We were close to the door leading to outside. I sat Judah down so he could run from the flames faster. Seconds after I did this a bookcase slammed down across my back. A paralyzing feeling come over me. I was stuck.
The only thing I remember is the feeling of the flames licking my back. I suppose my death happened soon after, for the next thing I saw was a world where everything has a golden glow. Then for the first time I heard God’s Voice.
He said to me four words, “You Earned Your Wings.” And with that I became what I am now, an angel. I have officially been assigned as little Judah’s guardian angel.
- Lisena Brown ( Lisena is a friend of mine we knew each other growing upi even though she was better frinds with my sister. She wrote this as a english class assigment. and gave my mother a copy. it was put on my depts. webpage with her permission. Her father is a former firefighter who ius a world class potter(http://www.brownspottery.net/) this is the website for the pottery he is mentioned along with his dad and brother in the foxfire books. Lisena is a good potter herself. She is a good friend and i think her for letting me use this.Bradley)
A Very Special Firefighter
The 26-year-old mother stared down at her son
who was dying of terminal leukemia. Although
her heart was filled with sadness, she also had
a strong feeling of determination. Like any
parent she wanted her son to grow up and
fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer
possible. The leukemia would see to that.
But she still wanted her son's dreams to come
true. She took her son's hand and asked, "Billy,
did you ever think about what you wanted to be
once you grew up? Did you ever dream and
wish what you would do with your life?"
"Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman
when I grew up." Mom smiled back and said,
"Let's see if we can make your wish come true,"
Later that day she went to her local fire
department in Phoenix, Arizona, where she met
Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as Phoenix.
She explained her son's final wish and asked if it
might be possible to give her six-year-old son a
ride around the block on a fire engine. Fireman
Bob said, "Look, we can do better than that. If
you'll have your son ready at seven o'clock
Wednesday morning, we'll make him an honorary
fireman for the whole day. He can come down to
the fire station, eat with us, go out on all the fire calls,
the whole nine yards! "And if you'll give us his sizes,
we'll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire
hat -- not a toy one -- with the emblem of the Phoenix
Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear
and rubber boots. They're all manufactured right here
in Phoenix, so we can get them fast,"
Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Billy, dressed
him in his fire uniform and escorted him from his hospital
bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck. Billy got to sit
on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire
station. He was in heaven. There were three fire calls in
Phoenix that day and Billy got to go out on all three calls.
He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedic's van
and even the fire chief's car. He was also video taped for
the local news program. Having his dream come true, with
all the love and attention that was lavished upon him, so
deeply touched Billy that he lived three months longer than
any doctor thought possible.
One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and
the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept that no
one should die alone, began to call the family members to the
hospital. Then she remembered the day Billy had spent as a
fireman, so she called the fire chief and asked if it would be
possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be
with Billy as he made his transition. The chief replied, " We
can do better than that. We'll be there in five minutes. Will
you please do me a favor?
When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights
flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there
is not a fire?" It's just the fire department coming to see one
of it's finest members one more time. And will you open
the window to his room?......Thanks."
About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at
the hospital, extended its ladder up to Billy's third floor open
window and 16 firefighters climbed up the ladder into Billy's
room. With his mother's permission, they hugged him and held
him and told him how much they loved him. With his dying
breath, Billy looked up at the fire chief and said, "Chief, am I
really a fireman now?"
"Billy, you are," the chief said. With those words, Billy
smiled and closed his eyes one last time.
Last edited by mtnfyre21; 09-25-2002 at 01:49 AM.2197 10-8<br />stay safe have fun stay healthy<br />
05-13-2009, 02:57 PM #3
- Join Date
- Mar 2009
05-13-2009, 06:11 PM #4
When times are good, some consider us saps because "we could earn more money in the private sector" ...
Either way, I get the satisfaction of knowing that regardless of how they view us.. they have to call us in an emergency.. and even if they don't, PD or EMS will request us anyway... who are they going to call.. their stockbroker? Their Attorney? The CEO of their company? Ghostbusters?
Last edited by CaptainGonzo; 05-13-2009 at 06:17 PM."The education of a firefighter and the continued education of a firefighter is what makes "real" firefighters. Continuous skill development is the core of progressive firefighting. We learn by doing and doing it again and again, both on the training ground and the fireground."
Lt. Ray McCormack, FDNY
05-14-2009, 08:01 PM #5
“I have no ambition in this world but one, and that is to be a firefighter The position may, in the eyes of some, appear to be a lowly one; but we who know the work which the firefighter has to do believe that his is a noble calling. There is an adage which says that, "Nothing can be destroyed except by fire." We strive to preserve from destruction the wealth of the world which is the product of the industry of men, necessary for the comfort of both the rich and the poor. We are defenders from fires of the art which has beautified the world, the product of the genius of men and the means of refinement of mankind. (But, above all; our proudest endeavor is to save lives of men-the work of God Himself. Under the impulse of such thoughts, the nobility of the occupation thrills us and stimulates us to deeds of daring, even at the supreme sacrifice. Such considerations may not strike the average mind, but they are sufficient to fill to the limit our ambition in life and to make us serve the general purpose of human society.”
Edward F. Croker, Chief of Department, F.D.N.Y. 1899-1911"Loyalty Above all Else. Except Honor."
05-15-2009, 06:28 PM #6
I Wish You Could!
I Wish You Could
I wish you could see the sadness of a business man as his livelihood
goes up in flames or that family returning home, only to find their house and
belongings damaged or destroyed.
I wish you could know what it is to search a burning bedroom for trapped
children, flames rolling above your head, your palms and knees burning
as you crawl, the floor sagging under your weight as the kitchen beneath you burns.
I wish you could comprehend a wife's horror at 3 A.M. as I check her
husband of forty years for a pulse and find none. I start CPR anyway, hoping
against hope to bring him back, knowing intuitively it is too late. But wanting
his wife and family to know everything possible was done.
I wish you could know the unique smell of burning insulation, the taste
of soot-filled mucus, the feeling of intense heat through your turnout
gear, the sound of flames crackling, and the eeriness of being able to see
absolutely nothing in dense smoke--"sensations that I have becomed too
I wish you could understand how it feels to go to school in the morning
after having spent most of the night, hot and soaking wet at a multiple
I wish you could read my mind as I respond to a building fire, `Is this
a false alarm or a working, breathing fire? How is the building
constructed? What hazards await me? Is anyone trapped?' or to an EMS call, `What is wrong
with the patient? Is it minor or life-threatening? Is the caller really in
distress or is he waiting for us with a 2x4 or a gun?'
I wish you could be in the emergency room as the doctor pronounces dead
the beautiful little five-year old girl that I have been trying to save
during the past twenty-five minutes, who will never go on her first date or say the words, "I love you Mommy!", again.
I wish you could know the frustration I feel in the cab of the engine,
the driver with his foot pressing down hard on the pedal, my arm tugging
again and again at the air horn chain, as you fail to yield right-of-way at an
intersection or in traffic. When you need us, however, your first
comment upon our arrival will be, "It took you forever to get here!"
I wish you could read my thoughts as I help extricate a girl of teenage
years from the mangled remains of her automobile, `What if this were my
sister, my girlfriend, or a friend? What were her parents' reactions
going to be as they open the door to find a police officer, HAT IN HAND?'
I wish you could know how it feels to walk in the back door and greet my
parents and family, not having the heart to tell them that you nearly
did not come home from this last call.
I wish you could feel my hurt as people verbally, and sometimes
physically, abuse us or belittle what I do, or as they express their attitudes of, "It will never happen to me."
I wish you could realize the physical, emotional, and mental drain of
missed meals, lost sleep and forgone social activities, in addition to all the
tragedy my eyes have viewed.
I wish you could know the brotherhood and self-satisfaction of helping
save a life or preserving someone's property, of being there in times of
crisis, or creating order from total CHAOS.
I wish you could understand what it feels like to have a little boy
tugging on your arm and asking, "Is my mommy o.k.?" Not even being able to look in his eyes without tears falling from your own and not knowing what to
say. Or to have hold back a long-time friend who watches his buddy having rescue breathing done on him as they take him away in the ambulance. You
knowing all along he did not have his seat belt on--sensations that I have
become too familiar.
Unless you have lived this kind of life, you will never truly understand
or appreciate who I am, what we are, or what our job really means to us.
I WISH YOU COULD!DixieFire53, Lt. E-12 FF/EMT-P, Local 272
10-18-2009, 05:21 AM #7
- Join Date
- Oct 2009
The house is burning quickly, there are people trapped inside;
The engine moved so swiftly, but it still seemed so slow;
I check on my partner, he checks on me, and we are all set to go;
We enter the house and we must stay low because the heat is so intense;
A child is trapped down the hall the crawl seems so very slow;
My partner and I watch each other we have one another’s backs;
My life in his hands and his is in mine we work side by side;
Two brave men risking it all fighting for a young boy’s life;
It’s so hard, it’s so tough, but we find the courage to push on;
A child needs us, the fire roars, until we can barely hear his cries;
The devil dares us to dance in his den, but there is no turning back;
We count on each other, to all of our crew, that we might come out alive;
The spirits and Angels of all those before us provide the strength to find our way;
We pull him to safety and just in time, the house is starting to come down;
We put it all on the line and we know the risks that we might never make it home;
We don’t do it for money and we don’t do it for fame its much more than that;
Some folks call us heroes, that we fight what they fear, a title we hold dear;
We work till it’s over and we know what it costs;
Many brothers have paid the ultimate price;
Our life is of service, our life is of pain, yet we continue to carry on;
We have our traditions and symbols, memorials that honor those we’ve lost;
We are angels on Earth tasked to dance with the devil in his fiery hell;
We are known by names the world over, but hold none with more pride;
The two words that everyone knows, you can simply call us Fire Fighters.
By: Brian Freese Firefighter/EMT Springville Fire Dept.
12-03-2009, 03:44 PM #8
- Join Date
- Oct 2005
Poem by my father
"To My Family"
By: Ernest A. Chiaradonna, Sr.
Chelsea Fire Department
Chelsea, MA L937
I once thought firefighting was a thing I'd like to do,
So I took the tests and passed them, despite protests from you.
With some romantic notion, I imagined I could be,
The one who made the rescues that everyone would see.
But it didn't take too long before I knew why I was there,
As I pulled that child from its room, whose face was filled with fear.
And over all the years that passed, the things I had to do,
Left oh, so precious little time that I could spend with you.
His hockey games I couldn't make, the football games I missed,
The times you had to go alone, the nights the kids weren't kissed.
His first Mass as an altar boy, the night you fixed the heating,
Those times I wasn't there to take you all out Trick-Or-Treating.
How many Sunday dinners did you have to eat alone?
How many Birthday greetings did I send you on the phone?
And all those rainy seasons when we had to take vacation,
'cause somehow, when it was sunny, I was always in the station.
When I wasn't there for Christmas, to see our children's faces,
When to share Thanksgiving dinner meant to eat in different places.
All the nights you stayed up worrying 'cause you heard us going by,
How you always said, "Be Careful" every time I said, "Goodbye".
The many summer weekends that we couldn't go and play,
And the many winter weekends that we couldn't get away.
The times we had to cancel plans we'd counted on all year,
'Cause someone had been injured, and I had to be right here.
All the stories I would tell you of the things we had to do,
Never once did I consider how they had affected you.
Like that four-alarm with so much heat, my collar started smoking,
And the time my tank ran out of air, and I had started choking.
Or the time the roof came crashing in . . . we jumped clear with a shout,
While the flames lapped at the ladder's tip as they pulled my brother out.
I run into blazing buildings, I run up to burning cars,
I try to stop the bleeding from the fights at local bars.
I work as I've been trained to, giving children CPR,
I use the Jaws of Life on what I'm told was once a car.
But it all somehow seems worth it, and I know that you don't mind,
when I look back at the things I've done, and smile at what I find.
The time I breathed the breath of life into that little child,
The family that we rescued makes that fire now seem so mild.
That time I almost drowned, in freezing water, filled with doubt,
Tearing at that sunken car, 'till I finally got her out.
The look of thanks I saw within the eyes of that old man,
As he sat beside his rescued wife, and gently stroked her hand.
I know that we're short handed, just three men on every truck,
And that isn't very many, so you never count on luck.
The pump man, standing by his pump
Makes sure there's always water.
Then the two men left go racing in,
with hoses, where it's hotter.
And on the ladder truck you find, again there's only three . . .
One officer . . . one driver . . . and I guess that just leaves me.
The driver mans the platform, as the ladder starts to rise,
Then he stands a silent vigil, with his eyes glued toward the skies.
His job's the most important if you really want to know,
'Cause he's the one who'll bring me down when that building starts to go.
That just leaves two to hit the roof, and ventilate the smoke,
'Cause fighting fire you can't see, or find, just ain't no joke.
It's because we're so short handed, we work many extra days,
And our families only see us through a distant, smoky haze.
Then we're criticized for overtime by every Tom and Bob,
But we keep on fighting fires, 'cause God Damn It, that's our job.
01-04-2010, 07:06 AM #9
- Join Date
- Dec 2009
This was told to me by a friend not a poem but a story
"As we were sitting in front of the station relaxing after a call a man drove by and started heckling us saying "dont you have a cat to save? and why are you sitting around wasting our money" we thought nothing of his remarks. later on that night we got a call for a single family dwelling fully involved. As we got on scene we were informed there was a man trapped, So I ran in to save him, when i found him on the couch i took off my SCBA right away and as I was putting it on him i recognized him as the heckler. I dragged him out of the house and after the fire was extinguished and i went to rehab i thought nothing more of him. three days later he showed up at the station, he saw me immediately and came right to me. The first words out of his mouth were "why did you save me? if i were you i would have left me there." Well thats the difference between you and me I dont care who you are or what you did my job is to save lives and thats what i did.
01-04-2010, 07:30 AM #10
- Join Date
- Jan 2003
- Canuck Expat May be anywhere
01-04-2010, 01:36 PM #11
- Join Date
- Jan 2010
04-26-2010, 08:27 AM #12
- Join Date
- Apr 2010
A Fireman's Dream A poem to remember firefighters.
I wrote this poem about being a Firefighter when I became one in the late 70's 1977 to be exact. I registered it in U.S. Copyright in 1992.
Type of Work:Text
Registration Number / Date: TXu000561746 / 1993-03-22
Title: A fireman's dream. Description: 1 p.
Copyright Claimant: Dale Alan Henderson, 1958-
Date of Creation: 1992
Names: Henderson, Dale Alan, 1958-
It can be seen on my son's web page:
______________________________ ______________________________ _____
"A Fireman's Dream"
Through the smoke and ashes
Tracks down from my eyes
Promise that you'll miss me
If someday I should die.
And give me strength to carry on
When the going's rough
Forgive me if I disobey
When they say "You've had enough"
Give me a light that leads the way
From this man made hell
And courage as I mount the truck
When I hear the bell.
Don't thank me if I save a life
That means so very much;
Just give a chance to ride again
And that will be enough.
Last edited by firstname.lastname@example.org; 04-26-2010 at 09:21 AM.
Users Browsing this Thread
There are currently 1 users browsing this thread. (0 members and 1 guests)