I missed a few days. There was paperwork to do, a change in schedule for a couple of days (me, working afternoon shift). The towns annual festival prompted the schedule change, which meant that I had no real time to write anything down and put it here for the world to see.
But now I'm back on midnight's, where my time is my own and my desk is cluttered with my personal crap. Yippee! And what to dedicate this weeks set of poems to? How about the blues? Looking at a list of poetry forms, there is one called the Blues Stanza. We all know the blues, in one way or another. This form has an easy rhyme structure and no real meter. But like a man in a movie once said, the blue ain't nothin' but a good man feelin' bad. So why stick to a set meter when you don't want too.
My personal blues consists of working all night with nothing to do, being away from my wife and dogs all night, lack of energy during my waking time. The usual midnight shift police officer laments.
The Usual Po-Liceman Blues
Workin' all night, in a slow boring town
Just puttin' miles on a car, drivin' all around the town
When there's nothin' to do, it can get a good man down
My wife is at home, she worries about me so
My job can be dangerous, it makes her worry so
Knowing that she's alone at night, makes me feel so low
My two dogs, are wonderin' where I'm at
Sleepin' and dreamin', and thinkin' 'bout where I'm at
I wish I could be with them, pettin' and feedin' them 'til they're fat
Whenever I'm home, I seem grumpy and always tired
Six hours of sleep a day, keeps me perpetually tired
In a drowsy haze, my brain feels always mired
There's no other job, in the world I'd rather do
I'd change some things, at this job that I love to do
But even with all of these bad things, it's really hard for me to feel blue
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