National Poetry Writing Month - April 5, 2014

It's Saturday, and for most folks that means a day off. Not for me, and my fellow officers. We work more often than the postal carriers. Every day, all weather, light or dark.

ENDO

The day on the calendar is meaningless to me

Monday. Thursday. Sunday. Saturday

In my mind, it's Day 1. Or 2. Or 3. Or 4.

Everyday. No Days Off

That's when I work. It doesn't matter that it's

A birthday. A holiday. Or any day

For me it's Day 1. Or 2. Or 3.Or 4.

Everyday. No Days Off

While family is at home, or occasionally out with friends

I more often than not am at work.

On Day 1. Or 2. Or 3. Or 4.

Everyday. No Days Off

This is the life of the police. 

A sacrifice of time spent with wife, husband, or child.

Because of Day 1. Or 2. Or 3. Or 4.

Everyday. No Days Off.

November 29, 2012 - 2300

We had a call for "three male subjects showing gang signs outside of (LOCAL HELLHOLE BAR). Knowing the reputation of this place, I was wondering what had happened inside. And these words started to fill my head. I had to wait until I got home to put them to screen, as I was driving at the time.

That's How These Things Start

Drinks are thrown down

Eyebrows are thrown up

At someones girl

That how these things start

Shirts are thrown down

Hands are thrown up

In each others faces

Thats how these things start

Money is thrown down

Jackets are thrown up

On car hoods

Thats how these things start

Bicycles are thrown down

Gang signs are thrown up

By wannabe gangsters 

Thats how these things start

Pedals are pressed down

Light switches are thrown up

As police race to the scene

And thats how these things end

Panting For Paws 5K - 11/13/2011

I ran for them on Sunday

Furry tails and floppy ears

To keep them fed and warm

I ran for them on Sunday

I trained for them for weeks

Running. Oh, the running

Day in, day out. The running

I ran for them on Sunday

I pictured their faces while I ran

Her sad yellow eyes. Her broken ear

They kept me going while I ran

I ran for them on Sunday

If there were more I could do, I would

More money to give, more toys to share

They give us so much in return

So I ran for them on Sunday

July 6, 2011 - 0500

Here's hoping that the holiday weekend treated everyone well. Apart from the illegal setting off of fireworks in our neighborhood, ours was nice and relaxing. Of course, it wasn't the dogs who were worked up about the explosions...it was me. I have never liked fireworks, or loud noises of any kind. Really kind of funny, given my profession and that soon I will be one of my departments firearms instructors. We all have our things that we don't like, no matter how irrational or strange it may seem.

I went with a refrain poem today. A repeated line or phrase throughout the entire thing. Today's is about slow nights in my small town.

Not Much To Do


I arrived at work to sick slip waiting
     The town is dead tonight
Shift not covered and laziness I'm hating
     The town is dead tonight
Taken care of straight away
     The town is dead tonight
12 hours for those whom the city will pay
     The town is dead tonight
One car stopped but no arrest
     The town is dead tonight
An alarm at a business, and no fire is the best
     The town is dead tonight
A second car stopped and the driver is hooked
     The town is dead tonight
His car was towed and he was booked
     The town is dead tonight
As a second alarm call pierces the night
     The town is dead tonight
Still no fire, and that's quite alright
     The town is dead tonight
It sure doesn't help me to stay awake
     The town is dead tonight
But on a first night back it's what I'll take
     When the town is dead at night