April 28, 2011 - 0507

It's tough to write about work and policing and interactions with the public, when you can't even make it out of the office before the last of the bars close. That's what happened tonight, so in place of action and excitement, I bring you a list. List poetry is simple, fun, easy to write, with no structured rhyme or meter. It's simply a list of items that come to the authors head.

In my case, it's a short biography. Or chronology. Or whatever you care to call it.

13 Things About Me or When I Was...


1) When I was about 13 I knew what I wanted to be
2) When I was about 16 I knew college wasn't for me
3) When I was about 18 I left my house for good
4) When I was about 19 I was defending the common good
5) When I was about 22 I gave college another try
6) When I was about 23 I knew I just wasn't that guy
7) When I was about 25 I made my dream come true
8) When I was about 30 it ended out of the blue
9) When I was about 32 I packed up and moved again
10) When I was about 33 I was the happiest I'd ever been
11) When I was about 35 my dream once again came true
12) When I was about 36 my love of it completely grew
13) Now I am 37, later this year to be 38
And for whatever my future holds, I certainly cannot wait

April 27, 2011 - 0505

Free verse day. Tonight was a nice, not too warm not too cool kind of night. There was a large party at the bowling alley in town, and when it let out (at 0100, when the bar closed) there were about 75 people milling about on the street/sidewalk. One very drunk girl caught my attention, which inspired today's lines.

Know When To Say When


You may have had too much to drink if
The world can see...
Down your shirt
Up your skirt
And some dude is taking pictures

You might have had too much to drink if
You're offered water and...
It makes you gag
It makes them sad
To see you wasted like this

You probably had too much to drink if
The police look at you and...
Ask you your name
And your claim to fame
Is a ride in an ambulance seat

You have had too much to drink if
In the emergency room...
Your stomach they pump
And a shot in the rump
Brings you back to a life more complete

April 26, 2011 - 0510

The tanka is a Japanese poetry style that falls under the waka or Japanese poem genre. It follows a syllable structure, and usually expresses a theme close to the person who wrote the verse. Interestingly, in the Japanese style, there weren't actual verses but the translation into English separated the symbols and units into verses. It rained last night. A lot. It makes for a long work night.

Rain At Work


On nights when it rains
It is not easy to find
Bad guys in my town
The dark and the rain keep them
Inside, where I wish I were.

April 25, 2011 - 0500

We start off the week with a fun bit of verse called an acrostic. We've all seen them at one time or another. The first letters spell out words when looked at as one. Tonight, we had to stop and ask a fellow about his run-in with a local bar keeper. The first letters of each line tell the tale of what happened next.

Arrest Acrostic


Choices one make
Often lead to trouble
Complicated by alcohol
Anyone can slip down the wrong path
It's not difficult, however
Not to make the bad choice
Even when it feels good right now

When your choices catch up to you
Average person end up in situations
Rarely ones that they like
Rarely ones that they can get out of alone
An employer or friend who can help
Nearly never happened
Though when they do help, it's quite a relief

After all is said and done
Relying on falsehood doesn't work
Remember, tell the truth to the police
Electronic means will find you out
Sooner or later, you will be found out
There is no eluding the machine

April 21, 2011 - 0500

I will call today's selection an elegy. I had chance to talk with a citizen who used to be an officer. He was a good street cop, when his head was screwed on right. But as time went on, he slipped further and further away from the type of reality needed to do a job like this, in a place like the one where I work.

Elegy For A Former Hero


What happens to heroes when the fight is done
And the reason for living has passed?
Do they lay down their arms when the battle is won
And enjoy a victors repast?

Or does a warrior continue to fight
And to the next battle enjoin?
From village to village, by day and night
His reward a few simple coins.

A hero once walked among my workers and I
Who's knowledge and skill were unmatched.
His brain was the center of concern on high
From reality he seemed detached.

To watch as he worked was amazing to see
His knowledge and skill to intake
With evil and shadow in the middle he'd be
Never shrinking from rogue or from rake.

But more often than not, his mind was a mess
A muddled, confusing brain his
To all those around him he seemed very teched,
No genius was he, no whiz.

To no one's surprise the hero gave up
And turned from the life he'd held most dear
His leaving the group was a massive disrupt
Made more so since he still lived so near

He's fallen from grace, and into the drink
Drowning his sharp mind with beer
Bitter and lonely, it's caused me to think
What our work can do to ones cheer.

Farewell to you warrior, we wish you the best
Though it seems like you've given up hope
Someday I hope you can simply find rest
And until then can find ways to cope.

April 20, 2011 - 0500

This is my take on a Cinquain. It's not the full on classic version, or even one of the mentioned variants, but it does follow a general 1,2,3,4,5 pattern with the wording in each line. Tonight, my love of arresting DUI drivers has come back to invade my brain.


DUI - Jury Trial


Lawyer
Successful Attorney
It's your job
You don't need me
That's why you're the lawyer.

Drunkard
Drunk driver
I caught you
I'll get you again
You're not smart, drunk driver

Jury
Supposed peers
You don't care
You'd rather be gone
But instead, you're the jury

Officer
My co-worker
Do your job
Make well the arrests
After all, you're an officer.

April 19, 2011 - 0525

Today's selection is a rondeau. A very structured pattern of both meter and rhyme, but not terrible to compose. Within the link, there is a copy of a very famous poem of this style. This one of mine highlights some of what I came back to work to after a small weekend away from work.

The Apathy and The Ecstasy


The cars don't work in my small town
And all the cops all wear a frown
More work is piled upon my desk
A mountain that is most grotesque
Not unlike an opera clown

But with the working ups and down
My love of work does still abound
Though apathy here is statuesque
We still fight the fight

In all our travels up and down
The streets and alleys of our town
Crime still goes on without protest
In a barely contained burlesque
And we are there to chase it down
We still fight the fight

April 15, 2011 - 0533

This will be a free poem, open verse, free verse. No set rhyme pattern, no structured meter. Tonight was a slow, cold night despite it being the middle of April. I'm waiting for this global warming thing to kick in.

Free Verse - Where I Work


Where I work is small
Tiny
Full of tension and laughs
If you know where to find them

Where I work can be
Dangerous
Nights of boredom and excitement
If you know where to look for it.

Where I work has its characters
Caricatures
Cartoon depictions of those who
Serve and protect

Where I work has it's problems
Controversies
He said/he said from all side and places
And you don't have to look too hard to find it.

Where I work isn't the best place
Nope
Not even close to ideal
But I wouldn't want any other job.

I took tomorrow (April 16, 2011) off, so there will be no post for tomorrow.

April 14, 2011 - 0519

Today is my promotion anniversary. Two years ago, I was promoted to my current rank, which was a scant 13 months after being hired. I'm not 100% sure, but I've been told it's the fastest time from hiring to promotion in the history of the department. I don't consider myself a great leader of men, but I try and get better all the time.

This poem's style is called a ballade. It's rhyme structure is pretty easy when written down, but was tricky to follow because there are only so many words that rhyme.

Anniversary Ballade


I've been here for three
And promoted for two
It's like I've been out to sea
I am where I am because of you
For the good of the people I do what I do
Although the long nights make my mind turn grey
I'm a warrior and poet true
And I'll improve what I do, day by day.

My work I do only for me
And my home life only for you
Justice is only for those who see
That what they've done is nothing new
Or that my self and my fellows can't be bought anew
When morning time breaks and the sky becomes day
Our resolve will have held true
And I'll improve what I do, day by day.

Steadfast we hold, like leaves to a tree
Never shrinking from duty, nor cowering too
Into the battle is where we'll be
To fight for what's right, and just and true
Nothing can stop us, no actions we rue
And when it's all done, on the ground our arms lay
We've done all we can, with fairness imbue
And I'll improve what I do, day by day.

Someday when my steel is not true
And I no longer enter the fray
I can look back and say, without feeling blue
That I improved what I did, day by day.

April 13, 2011 - 0416

Everyone knows what a limerick is. Being very proud of my Irish heritage, I would be foolish to not include one here and there. Today was pistol qualification day, and it was eventful in more ways than one.

Range Day

Our night time was long and quite boring
But the day time had me up in the morning
At the range we did shoot
And had one who would toot
Gun barrels and butts were both roaring.

April 10, 2011 - 0456

In keeping with the structured poetry, here is an Italian style called a canzone. It has the same general rhyme structure and attention to meter as a sonnet, but there were no set rules with the writing of one. Seven to 20 lines, 10 to 11 syllables. And since the town where I work used to have a predominately Italian population, I decided to pay homage to that, and to a slow Saturday night.

The Ride-Along


Out quickly into the night, we set out
to find our prey. My Ride-Along. My wife.
The hunt was on but no cars were about
And the night dragged on for the love of my life.

After peering and hoping, there was a car
to stop and inquire of the man
If he had been drinking either near or far
But he had not, and was sent off with license in hand.

More time ticked away and my wife she grew tired.
With the lack of action, I understood,
That staying too long while I was so wired
with nothing to do in my small neighborhood

Would make for a boring night for my love
So harder and harder I tried.
Then a car appeared as if sent from above
And I hoped that this would be the one who'd imbibed.

But sober and sane was the driver inside
And my Ride-Along left, wishing me a fond good-bye.

April 9, 2011 - 0517

A sonnet has a highly structured set of rules. Meter, rhyme scheme, length are all regulated. I tried to stay as close to those rules as I could in describing our Friday night.

Not For Lack Of Trying


The town is small, but the crowd was large, for us,
For us to be out side. Oh how we looked.
With dancers on tables we made a fuss
Yet try as we may not a one was booked.

Cars were stopped but no drunks were found. I tried
but to no avail. A litterbug said,
"Who me?" when told his friend should be his guide.
"Keep our town tidy and don't lose your head."

A soldier was drunk, a sailor was drunk
They held hands as they walked towards their houses.
Stay calm, be nice, and go back to your bunk.
Don't talk; don't speak but be quiet like mouses.

I tried but the crowd in my town was dying.
No lock ups, but not for lack of trying.

April 8, 2011 - 0500

I am a midnight shift police supervisor, in a small town in Illinois. I like to write and want to share with you.

This is a poem style that I saw somewhere last week as I read my Google Reader feed. It's a Pi-Ku. See if you can figure out why.

Rain at night
Slow
Keeps them inside
Dark
Eight hours is tough
When you have nothing to do at work.