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Here are a few of
police poems and police sayings
that I have
collected.
Please contact Russell before borrowing.
Check
PAGE
2 for
the newest additions.......
Tears for a Lost Trooper
She (He) is willing to be hurt or killed for
someone they don't even know.
She (He) is not always sure why they
are dying but they are.
Could be a normal traffic stop or a drug
bust, or something like that.
You never think about it, till it is too late,
you lay there losing your life.
Your friends and co-workers stand around
you, trying to help you.
You know they are doing their best but it is
not enough.
As things grow dark you think of all your bad
and good moments in your life.
You hear them say "hold on the EMS is on
the way they will be here in a few minutes."
But you know that will not be good enough,
they are going to be too late, to save your
life.
You try to tell them don't cry, you will be
alright you are going to a better place,
where you can't die.
If you must cry, let it only be a little, you
don't want them hurting.
You know the end is here, as you try to tell
your friends and co-workers good-bye, on
the dark shoulder of the express way,
but you can't say the words.
As things go dark you prepare yourself for
the end of your life.
As a single tear falls down your cheek,
as your only way to say good-bye to your
friends and co-workers.
By: Kim S.
Top of Page
Me, A
Lousy Cop
Officer Mitchell Brown
Well, Mr. Citizen, I guess you've figured me out. I seem to fit neatly in the category
where you placed me. I am stereotyped, characterized, standardized, classified, grouped,
and always typical. Unfortunately, the reverse is not true.. I can never you out. From
birth you teach your children that I'm the boogeyman and then you're shocked when they
identify with my traditional enemy, THE CRIMINAL. You accuse me of coddling
juveniles until I catch your kid doing wrong. You take an hour for lunch and several
coffee breaks each day, but point me out as a loafer if you catch me having just one cup.
You pride yourself on your polished manners, but think nothing of disrupting my meals with
your troubles. You raise hell with the guy who cuts you off in traffic, but let me catch
you doing the same thing and I'm picking on you. You know all the traffic laws, but you've
never gotten a single ticket you deserved. You shout "FOUL!" if you see
me driving too fast to an emergency call, but raise hell if I take more than ten seconds to
respond to your call. You call it part of my job if someone strikes me, but it's police
brutality if I strike back. You would not think of telling your dentist how to pull a
badly-decayed tooth, or your doctor how to take out your appendix, but are always willing
to give me a few pointers on the law. You talk to me in a manner that would assure a
bloody nose from anyone else, but expect me to take it without batting an eye. You cry
"Something has got to be done about the crime!" but you can't be bothered with
getting involved. You have no use for me at all, but of course it's O.K. if I change a
flat for your wife, or deliver your child in the back seat of my radio car on the way to
the hospital, or save your son's life with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, or work many
hours looking for your lost daughter. So, Mr. Citizen, you stand there on your soapbox and
rant and rave about the way I do my job, calling me every name in the book, but
never stopping to think that your property, your family, or maybe even your life depends
on me or one of my buddies. Yes, Mr. Citizen, it's me, the lousy cop!
UPDATE:
Hey I was checking your site out and thought you might want to know that the
poem Me A Lousy Cop was written my Officer Mitchell Brown. He was killed by a
drunk driver 3 months after he wrote this poem
Lil_Rascal
Top of Page
Death of an innocent
I went to a party, Mom, I
remembered what you said...
You told me not to drink, Mom,
so I drank soda instead...
I really felt proud inside, Mom,
the way you said I would... I
didn't drink and drive, Mom,
even though the others said I
should... I know I did the right
thing, Mom, I know you are
always right... Now the party is
finally ending, Mom, as
everyone is driving out of sight
As I got into my car, Mom, I
knew I'd get home in one
piece... Because of the way you
raised me, so responsible and
sweet...
I started to drive away, Mom,
but as I pulled out into the road,
the other car didn't see me,
Mom, and hit me like a load...
As I lay there on the pavement,
Mom, I hear the policeman say,
the other guy is drunk, Mom,
and now I'm the one who will
pay... I'm lying here dying,
Mom. I wish you'd get here
soon....
How could this happen to me,
Mom? My life just burst like a
balloon... There is blood all
around me, Mom, and most of
it is mine... I hear the medic
say, Mom, I'll die in a short
time... I just wanted to tell you,
Mom, I swear I didn't drink... It
was the others, Mom. The
others didn't think... He was
probably at the same party as
I... The only difference is, he
drank and I will die... Why do
people drink, Mom? It can ruin
your whole life...
I'm feeling sharp pains now.
Pains just like a knife... The
guy who hit me is walking,
Mom, and I don't think it's
fair... I'm lying here dying and
all he can do is stare... Tell my
brother not to cry, Mom. Tell
Daddy to be brave... And when
I go to heaven, Mom, put
"Daddy's Girl" on my grave...
Someone should have told him,
Mom, not to drink and drive...
If only they had told him, Mom,
I would still be alive...
My breath is getting shorter,
Mom. I'm becoming very
scared... Please don't cry for
me, Mom. When I needed you,
you were always there... I have
one last question, Mom, before
I say good bye...
I didn't drink and drive, so why
am I the one to die?
Top of
Page
The Perfect Cop
-------Author unknown
To a Police Chief, the perfect cop is someone who looks sharp, works hard and doesn't
expect overtime pay, makes good arrests without offending anyone, writes detailed reports
and keeps a neat, readable activity log. He is also always available when extra help is
needed, accepts work assignments willingly and comes up with fast, favorable
results. In short, a perfect cop is someone who makes the Chief look good.
To a Prosecuting Attorney, a perfect cop is a meticulous investigator who gathers and
documents evidence, obtains confessions to all crimes and outlines each case in order to
make the prosecutor's job easy. He doesn't object when a case is plea bargained so the
attorneys can go golfing on Friday afternoon, and doesn't mind if an offender gets
probation or a suspended sentence because it is more convenient to make a deal than go to
trial.
To a Defense Attorney, a perfect cop is a bungling idiot who makes mistakes and someone
the defense attorney can manipulate and make angry in court, making the attorney look good
in front of his client. A perfect cop is someone who will agree to any and all plea
bargaining proposed, and whom the defense attorney can call when he needs
protection from his own client.
To the City Council, a perfect cop is someone who does his job well without making waves,
who is grateful for a job that he willingly works nights, weekends and holidays. He never
asks for more than the city is willing to pay, does an exemplary job without adequate
equipment and tools. Best of all, he never writes tickets on any council member or their
kid.
To the People of the Community, a perfect cop is polite, a friendly person who walks the
beat and checks out strange noises and watches for strange people. He teaches kids right
from wrong, talks to them about the evils of drug use-but doesn't mention Mom and Dad
using alcohol. He will arrest drug dealers, but overlooks kids with a "little"
pot.
To his Wife, a perfect cop never lets his job effect his emotions. He can spend hours
dealing with drunks, domestics, drug users, injured or dead people, and then come home and
be a loving, well-adjusted husband and father.
I have been a cop for over 20 years, and have never met a perfect cop. Only a few have
even come close, being totally honest and truly caring about people and doing the best job
they can.
But all the cops I have ever known are human. They love, laugh, cry, hurt, and sometimes
die too young. They try to make it to retirement, although many do not. Divorce is common.
Some become alcoholics and some suffer from "police stress", seen in a variety
of emotional disorders or heart attacks. Our job is often described as 98% boredom and 2%
sheer terror.
Why do we do it? We don't really know. I hope it's because we simply care about right and
wrong.
Top of Page
The Rookie
...anonymous...
AKA: Hotdog, Gopher, Yound Warrior, Fresh Meat, Cherries. Technical Nomenclature: Wide
Eyedicus Bushy Tailicus
1. Smiles incessantly at all the wrong times. Always assumes the Lieutenant is thrilled to
see him. Expression on face is result of watching old Howdy Dowdy reruns.
2. Uniform so starched he can't bend at waist. Wears sufficient body armor to stop 105mm
rounds. Holster is brand new and well oiled to allow quick drawing in mirrors.
3. Hairstyle: Neat and short. Can endure 60 mph winds.
4. Had eyes surgically enlarged during the academy to increase powers of observation. Must
now sleep with eyes taped shut.
5. Shines whistle daily - loves to direct traffic.
6. Police badge numbers: 1550 or above.
7. Police helmet always nearby.
8. Matching silver pen and pencil set.
9. Salutes anyone with more seniority, including Explorer Scouts.
10. Carries touch-up paint to touch up nicks on PR-24.
11. Carries two or more sets of handcuffs, speedloaders, extra clips and extra shotgun
shells.
12. Shotgun - never dirty, never dusty, never used! Cleaned daily.
13. Has yet to develop a sense of injustice.
14. Is thrilled to have his first full-time job. Can't believe someone gets paid for doing
this.
15. Knows absolutely for sure he will never, ever, ever get divorced.
16. Carries a new Glock, a .380 back-up, and a .38 in an ankle holster on one leg, and a
Gerber knife on the other.
17. Believes every word his FTO says is directly from God or the Chief.
18. Duffel bags contain: extra white out, all departmental policy books, complete set of
criminal and traffic laws for the city, state and adjoining areas, riot gear, binoculars,
backup flashlight, flex-cuffs, fingerprint kit, rain gear, shoe polish, brass polish, and
a sack lunch.
19. Briefcase contains: Books like - "I'm OK, You're OK" (personally owned),
"I'm OK, You're Scum" (borrowed from an FTO), "How to Marry Rich",
"How to Fake
Experience", Video-taped episodes of Miami Vice, Stress card and an assortment of
candy bars and bubblegum.
20. Can't wait to catch his first criminal.
Top of Page
The Veteran
.....anonymous
AKA: Old Man, John Law, Older than Dirt, Sir (to you) Technical Nomenclature:
Obeselardicus Uglus Protecticus
1. Never smiles - feels it would detract from his masculine demeanor, unless the
Lieutenant accidentally walks into the door.
2. Lost one shirt button, but figures he'll be in the car most of the time so no one will
notice.
3. Thinning hair due to stress of trying to adjust to:
1. increasing unclear distinction between
"us" and "them".
2. arguments with increasing numbers of
recruits who believe the Chief is God.
4. Handgun is proof stainless steel rusts. Survival holster needs repair.
5. Whistle - handed down from two generations by relatives who were on the force.
6. "Sergeant" - has gold badge and chevrons on everything. Been know to flash
badge at church offerings.
7. Hat - worn to reinforce his "in control" image. Keeps receding hairline from
showing and with full sideburns gives the appearance of a full head of hair.
8. Uses City issued Bic pens.
9. Sunglasses - always worn:
1. Suspect can't tell when he's being watched.
2. Lieutenant can't tell when he's catching a
few winks for that extra job.
3. doesn't have to explain blood-shot eyes.
10. Doesn't believe in a PR-whatchamacallit. Still uses a baton wrapped with friction
tape, prevents slipping during application of a "good old grand slammer."
11. Still has handcuff key. Cuffs last seen on spoiled child at family reunion. Veteran
officer claims he lost the key.
12. Lost flashlight while sneaking up on "neckers."
13. Firmly believes all suspects are guilty or they would have not been arrested.
14. Likes his job but, has been counting the days to retirement for 15 years.
15. Arthritic condition from repeated wearing and removing wedding rings. Has been married
numerous times, the exact number depends on whether you count the trip to Tijuana or not.
16. Pockets contain cigarettes bummed from rookie partner whom he suspects of being
communist due to using hair spray instead of oil. Copenhagen Snuff maintained in case he's
asked for a smoke, he can claim he switched to snuff.
17. Never asks questions - knows all the answers. Lucky rabbit foot always on his person,
gives him courage to face another day riding with a rookie.
18. Wallet contains: one expired "AAA" card, one prescription for a 3 day supply
of penicillin, membership card to Parents without Partners, and a photo of John Wayne.
19. Briefcase (in locker room) contains: Bottle of No-doze, checkbook and unpaid bills,
and books such as "36 Ways to Call in Sick with Dignity" or "How to Beat
the System" (10 hours pay for 5 hours work).
20. Walks slowly out of the office so if there are any report calls pending, the first one
on the air will get them. Lets Rookies handle the paperwork, they need the practice. Rates
assigned district by the number of restaurants which feed for free.
21. Remembers training the Chief or the Deputy Chief.
22. Loosens belt every hour to maintain circulation to the legs.
Top of Page
What Are Policemen Made Of?
...taken from Paul Harvey...
Don't credit me with this mongrel prose. It has many parents - at least 535,000 of them.
They are policemen. A policeman is a composite of what all men are - a mingling of saint
and sinner, dust and deity. Culled statistics wave the fan over the stinkers and
underscore instances of dishonesty and brutality because they are "news". What
this really means is that they are exceptional and unusual, not commonplace. Burled under
the front is this fact: Less than one-half of 1 percent misfit that uniform. That's a
better average than you'd find among clergymen. What is a policeman made of? He, of all
men is at once the most needed and the most unwanted. He's a strangely nameless creature
who is "sir" to his face and "the fuzz" behind his back. He must be a
diplomat so that he can settle differences between individuals in a way that each will
think he won. But, if the policeman is neat, he's conceited. If he's careless, he's a bum.
If he's pleasant, he's a flirt. If he's not, he's a grouch. In an instant, he must make
decisions that would require months for a lawyer. But if he hurries, he's careless -if
he's deliberate, he's lazy. He must be first to an accident and infallible with a
diagnosis. He must be able to start breathing, stop bleeding, tie splints and, above all,
be sure the victim goes home without a limp. Or, he must expect to be sued. The police
officer must know every gun, draw on the run and hit where it doesn't hurt. He must be
able to whip two men twice his size and half his age without damaging his uniform and
without being "brutal". If you hit him, he's a coward - if he hits you, he's a
bully. A policeman must know everything and not tell. He must know where all the sin is
and not partake. The policeman must, from a single human hair, be able to describe the
crime, the weapon and the criminal - and tell you where the criminal is hiding. But if he
catches the criminal, he's lucky - if he doesn't, he's a dunce. If he gets promoted, he
has political pull. If he doesn't, he's a dullard. The policeman must chase bum leads to
dead ends and stakeout 10 nights to tag one witness who saw it happen but refuses to
remember. He runs files and writes reports until his eyes ache - all in order to build a
case against some felon who'd get dealed-out by a shameless shamus or an
"honorable" who isn't. The policeman must be a minister, a social worker, a
diplomat, a tough guy and a gentleman. And, of course, he has to be a genius, for he has
to feed a family on a policeman's salary.
Top of Page
When God Made Peace Officers
...anonymous...
When the Lord was creating peace officers, he was into his sixth day of overtime when an
angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
And the Lord said, "Have you read the spec on this order? A peace officer has to be
able to run five miles through alleys in the dark, scale walls, enter homes the health
inspector wouldn't touch, and not wrinkle his uniform.
"He has to be able to sit in an undercover car all day on a stakeout, cover a
homicide scene that night, canvass the neighborhood for witnesses, and testify in court
the next day.
"He has to be in top physical condition at all times, running on black coffee and
half-eaten meals. And he has to have six pairs of hands."
The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands... no way."
"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord, "It's the
three pairs of eyes an officer has to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.
The Lord nodded. One pair that sees through a bulge in a pocket before he asks, "May
I see what's in there, sir?" (When he already knows and wishes he'd taken that
accounting job.) "Another pair here in the side of his head for his partners' safety.
And another pair of eyes here in front that can look reassuringly at a bleeding victim and
say, 'You'll be all right ma'am, when he knows it isn't so."
"Lord," said the angel, touching his sleeve, "rest and work on this
tomorrow."
"I can't," said the Lord, "I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound
drunk into a patrol car without incident and feed a family of five on a civil service
paycheck."
The angel circled the model of the peace officer very slowly, "Can it think?"
she asked.
"You bet," said the Lord. "It can tell you the elements of a hundred
crimes; recite Miranda warnings in its sleep; detain, investigate, search, and arrest a
gang member on the street in less time than it takes five learned judges to debate the
legality of the stop... and still it keeps its sense of humor. This officer also has
phenomenal personal control. He can deal with crime scenes painted in hell, coax a
confession from a child abuser, comfort a murder victim's family, and then read in the
daily paper how law enforcement isn't sensitive to the rights of criminal suspects."
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the peace officer.
"There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told you that you were trying to put
too much into this model."
"That's not a leak," said the lord, "it's a tear."
"What's the tear for?" asked the angel.
"It's for bottled-up emotions, for fallen comrades, for commitment to that funny
piece of cloth called the American flag, for justice."
"You're a genius," said the angel.
The Lord looked somber. "I didn't put it there," he said.
Top of Page
In Memory of all Police Dogs
----------------------------
John Quealy
They handled themselves with beauty & grace
and who could ever forget that beautiful face
Weather at work; or at home; whatever the test
they always worked hard; and did their best
They were real champions; at work or at play
but their lives were cut short; suddenly one day
While working on the job with their partner one day
they put themselves out on a limb; out into harms way
They gave the ultimate sacrifice; any dog can give
they gave up their life; so someone could live
The best of their breed; as his partner and anyone would say
many hearts are now broken; that he had to prove it this way
Now as the trees are blowing in the gentle breeze
the sun is shining; thru the leaves on the trees
The meadows are green; and the grass grows tall
off in the distance they can see a waterfall
As they look over the falls; down through the creek
the water flows gently; as a rabbit sneaks a peek
Far up above; in the deep blue sky
they see the birds soar high; as they fly by
They see animals playing; at the bridge by a waterfall
chasing each other; and just having a ball
They play all day; from morning to night
there's no more rain; just warm sunlight
Off in the distance; they hear trumpets blow
then all the animals look up; and notice a bright glow
The harps would play and the angels would sing
as they know they've come home; they've earned their wings
We remember that they died; in the line of duty
and are now with the Lord; sharing in heaven's beauty
Off to the meadows now; where they can play and roam free
with an occasional rest stop; under a tall oak tree
No more bad guys to chase; or bullets to take
just a run through the meadow; down to the lake
A quick splash in the water; then back to the shore
then it's off to the forest; to go play some more
These special dogs are back home; up in heaven above
they're cradled in God's arm's; and covered with His love
We'll light a candle for all of them; in the dark of night
in loving memory of all; these very special knights
Top of Page
COMMITMENT TO WIN
......U.S. Customs Service Academy
As a law enforcement officer I am aware that being involved in a shooting or other violent
incident is a realistic possibility. I will continually demonstrate my
commitment to avoid becoming the victim of such an incident because I will always:
Approach all suspects anticipating a confrontation...regardless of the circumstances.
Never underestimate a suspect or adversary.
Think "cover" and constantly be aware of its presence.
Evaluate the need to approach a suspect or suspect location.
Watch my suspects' hands.
Handcuff my suspects.
Handcuff my suspects behind their backs.
Search slowly and thoroughly.
Wear my body armor during enforcement operations.
Value the importance of shooting excellence.
Anticipate the worst and be prepared with a plan.
Effectively use my firearm in justifiable situations.
I WILL ALWAYS SURVIVE THE STREET AND WILL WIN ANY VIOLENT CONFRONTATION!
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A POLICE OFFICER'S WIFE
.....Author Unknown
A special kind of woman:
A cut above the rest,
That's A POLICE OFFICER'S WIFE,
rating her the best.
How many goodbyes are whispered,
joined with a fond embrace?
As duty steals her man,
for the danger he must face.
How often have meals been ruined,
or tender moments disturbed,
by a call for a special duty,
sparking loyalty unswerved?
It's a devil of a job,
for an angel like this,
Who, for the love of her man,
must forsake that kiss.
She can run a garden tractor,
even paint a room in need,
How she can stretch a dollar-
is a miracle indeed.
She's a mother, lover,
chauffeur, and nurse,
A living symbol of:
"for better or for worse."
Rich is the man,
reaping his rewards in life,
who chose to be the other half of
A POLICE OFFICER'S WIFE.
Top of Page
Policeman's Prayer
.....Author Unknown
When I start my tour of duty God
wherever crime may be,
As I walk the darkened streets alone,
let me be close to Thee.
Please give me understanding
with both the young and old.
Let me listen with attention
until their story's told.
Let me never make a judgement
in a rash or callous way,
but let me hold my patience,
let each man have his say.
Lord, if some dark and dreary night,
I must give up my life.
Lord, with your understanding love,
protect my children and wife.
Unknown
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Judgment Day for a Police Officer
.....Author Unknown
The policeman stood and faced his God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining.
Just as brightly as his brass.
"Step forward now, Policeman.
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To my Church have you been true?"
The policeman squared his shoulders and said,
"No, Lord I guess I ain't,
Because those of us who carry badges
Can't always be a Saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my work was rough,
and sometimes I've been violent,
Because the streets are awfully tough.
But I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep,
I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills just got too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place
among the people here.
They never wanted me around
Except to calm their fear.
If you've a place for me here, Lord
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand."
There was silence all around the Throne
Where the Saints had often trod.
As the policeman waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.
"Step forward now, policeman,
You've borne your burdens well.
Come walk a beat on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell."
Top of Page
Her Angel in Blue
by Brenda Riley -Seymore
Cowgrl6666's
Homepage
She was flying down the road
She and her boyfriend had a fight
She almost ran down a pedestrian
and ran a few red lights
The flashing lights and siren behind her
made her groan, and she said damn!
She pulled over for the Cop
Cops she couldn't stand
He ask for her license and registration
and proof of insurance too
She glared at him as she went thru her purse
and he said, Do you know why I stopped you?
No! She lied with an attitude
As she tried to find her stuff
She said, don't you have anything better to do
then to stop someone in a rush?
There must be a shooting
a murder or a rape
Or a bank being robbed
or some other important scrape
Instead you stop the one
Whose taxes pay your check
And my friend is a lawyer
and your career he will wreck
You Cops sit around eating donuts
Harrasin tax payin folks
Is it any wonder
That you're the butt of all our jokes?
He wrote her out a ticket
and she cursed him under her breath
He gave it to her and she grabbed it
She said sarcastically, Gee, so glad we met
Well the Cop didn't say much
Just "slow down ma'am", and walked away
He knew she wouldn't be interested
In anything he had to say
A few months had passed
She had been out with her friends and drinkin
Her boyfriend and her, had another fight
So she went for a drive to do some thinkin
She was speeding down the highway
When she lost control
She skidded onto the dirt shoulder
and her car went off the road
Over the embankment
Her car landed upside down
She was trapped and cried for help
But no one was around
She was hurt so bad
She was afraid she didn't have a chance
It was then with terror
That she smelled the gas
She saw the fire
that ignited under the hood
and she knew that she might die
That much she understood.
Then an angel appeared at her window
It was the cop that she had met
He was down on his hands and knees
I'm not going to leave you,
but there's somethin I have to get
I'm going to try and get you out
Don't be afraid, I'll be right back
and he ran to his car to get
his crow bar and a jack
Then she saw him working
Trying to get her free
When the flames came inside
She began to scream
The flames were burin
around her pinned legs
and she saw that he was cryin
as she began to beg
Then by some miracle
She felt him pull her out
and then there were lights and sirens
and she heard someone shout
The Cop half drug and carried her
away from the burning car about to blow
Then she heard the thunder spit the night
She said, you could have died too you know?
Then paramedics were at her side
Her pain was so intense
The Cop was still at her side
burned and covered in blood
he was a mess
Someone tried to help him
but he waved them away
She wondered why he tried to save her
after the things she had said that day
His hands were blistered, red and black
His face was etched with pain
As he stood beside her
She wondered if she would ever see him again
A few days later
Several officers came to talk
Right after she heard the news
That she would never be able to walk
She asked the Cop
makin his report about that night
She said, could you tell me how the Cop is
the one that saved my life?
I want to thank him
for what he did for me
I wasn't very nice to him
The first time we met, you see
Then a man with bandaged arms
Walked in and stood beside her bed
and smiled the sweetest smile
and then he softly he said
There's no need to thank me ma'am
I did what I had to do
It's all part of my job
To serve and protect you
She said, I'm so sorry
For the things that I have said
Because if it weren't for you
I would be dead
She said, I guess I never thought about
the job that you do
I was only thinkin about myself
and I was unkind and rude
How can I repay you? She asked
for what you've done, what can I do?
Well he said, the next time you see a Cop
remember we are human just like you
He turned and walked out of the room
And as night began to fall
She knew that if weren't for him
She would have lost it all
His words came back to haunt her
the day he stopped her and asked her to slow down
And for her angel in blue
A new respect she found
And with tears upon her face
humbled with her shame
She realized that she
Was the only one to blame
So for the men in blue
She closed her eyes and said a prayer
For these men so brave and true
and thanked God that he was there
(Thank you Brenda for this poem, you are a very talented woman)
Please visit Brenda's site for more poetry.
Cowgrl6666's
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My Job
When squad called my unit I would respond.
Whether it was a stabbing, a shooting, or another dead john.
10-4 I would say I am enroute.
Not knowing the situation or what the call was about.
It was my duty to serve and to protect.
A mentor, a counselor, all I asked for was some respect.
At times I was nervous, even a bit scared.
My adrenaline pumping when our sirens blared.
So many killings to them it's a game.
Kids caught in the middle, a bullet knows no name.
So young, so innocent they had so much left to do.
So forgive me if I cry, because I am human too.
Never once did I take something that was not mine
Not a ten, a twenty, not even a dime.
Always tried to show some respect and kindness.
Because I was proud to be one of Chicago's Finest.
Never did I think when I got this call.
That this would be my last job, my last 5-Paul.
When the shots rang out I didn't feel the round.
Until I heard my partner say "Officer Down".
Now as I lay here trying to be strong.
How could things have gone so wrong.
Not knowing that tomorrow was never on it's way.
The lord had something else in mind, for me that fateful day.
This can't be happening; I'm too young to die.
To my family, my friends, I don't want to say good-bye.
You didn't have to shoot, my life you didn't have to rob.
Because I was just doing what was my job.
By E. DeLeon
Speeding Ticket
Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone.
Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so often?
When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only
partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe
some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror. The cop
was stepping out of his car, the
big pad in hand. Bob? Bob from Church? Jack sunk farther into his trench
coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A Christian cop
catching a guy from his own church. A guy who happened to be a little eager to
get home after a long day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf
with tomorrow.
Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd never
seen in uniform.
"Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."
"Hello, Jack." No smile.
"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids."
"Yeah, I guess." Bob seemed uncertain. Good.
"I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules a
bit -just this once." Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. "Diane
said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?"
"I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our
precinct." Ouch. This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.
"What'd you clock me at?"
"Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?"
"Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely
nudging 65." The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.
"Please, Jack, in the car."
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming it shut,
he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window. The minutes
ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for a driver's
license?
Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever sat near
this cop again. A tap on the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob, a
folded paper in hand. Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough
room for Bob to pass him the slip.
"Thanks." Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.
Bob returned to his police car without a word. Jack watched his retreat in
the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this one going to
cost? Wait a minute. What was this? Some kind of joke? Certainly not a ticket.
Jack began to read:
"Dear Jack,
Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when killed by a car. You guessed
it -- a speeding driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free.
Free to hug his daughters. All three of them. I only had one, and I'm going to
have to wait until Heaven before I can ever hug her again. A thousand times I've
tried to forgive that man. A thousand times I thought I
had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it again. Even now. Pray for me. And be
careful, Jack, my son is all I have left."
"Bob"
Jack turned around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the road.
Jack watched until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he too, pulled away
and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife and
kids when he arrived.
Life is precious. Handle with care. This is an important message; please pass it
along to your friends. Drive safely and carefully. Remember, cars are not the
only things recalled by their maker.
Funny how you can send a thousand jokes' through e-mail and they spread like
wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the sanctity of life,
people think twice about sharing.
Funny how when you go to forward this message, you will not send it to many on
your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they will
think of you for sending it to them. Pass this on you may save a life.
Maybe not, but we'll never know if you don't try.
Questions or comments..........Email me.
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