Best Bailiff Poems
Well, you asked for it so here goes!
I'm five-feet, eight inches tall from scalp to toes.
Born October 1930 in Indiana - so there, I've revealed my age.
I'm blessed with great health even at this elder stage.
Happily married to my dear Vera for 62 wonderful years,
And we've met life's vicissitudes with laughter and some tears.
Two daughters Leanna and Leslie but, alas, lost Mark, our boy.
Through the years they've brought Vera and me so much joy!
I'm blessed with 6 grandchildren and 4 great grands.
(I hope to stick around for more as my family expands.)
Enlisted at age 17 in the Air Force in 1948 retiring in 1978.
Assigned to Morocco, Germany and Japan which was great!
I 'fought' the Korean War in Bermuda dodging sea shells.
Met Vera in Bermuda and in Texas we rang those wedding bells!
Retired as a Chief Master Sergeant, the top Air Force enlisted grade.
'Twas a challenging, exciting life and I'm sure glad that I stayed.
While in the Air Force I earned a degree in Justice Administration,
And upon Air Force retirement became a Colorado Bailiff for my vocation.
I like folks who keep their word, are punctual and I don't suffer jerks gladly!
Me and the Lord are working on this but I have very little patience, sadly.
I love God, family and nation and enjoy writing poetry and even though,
I've penned nearly 1200, alas, as a bard I've made very little dough!
I like steak and taters and a sip of Beringers White Zinfindel now and then,
And going to Cripple Creek to play the one-armed bandit when I can.
Sorry if I bored you but once I began writing the words just seemed to flow.
Now, you probably know more about me than you ever wanted to know!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Entry for Regina Riddle's "Bio Poem" Contest
What’s it about for them, then
Loneliness, poverty, pain
Bang of the bailiff at the door
Death in a ditch in the rain
What is it like for the Joneses
Bigger and better you think
Posh port and pigs in blankets
Sick in the kitchen sink
What’s it about for him, then
A clock, and an empty chair
Picture of her on the mantelpiece
Candle smoke curls in the air
What is it like for her, do you think
Hairdo and heels and hurrah
Hampers and champers from Harrods
Packed in to Daddy’s car
What’s it about for the Christians
The return of the sacred child
Under a star in a stable bare
Jesus, meek and mild
What is it like for the Druids, then
Stood in the circle at dawn
Frost on the moss on frozen stone
Lit by the sun reborn
What’s it about for the children
Mysterious, glittery, bright
Hope of a mythic benevolence
Come as a thief in the night
What is it like for us, then
Rushing and spending and stressing
Cursing the souls in the queue at the till
Or kissing a friend with a blessing
What will it be like for you, then
Whatever you will it to be
Riotous ostentation, or
Peace and sweet charity
What it’s about for me is this
One white and holy dove
The silence after the shops have shut
And love
© Gail Foster 3rd December 2016
CAR COURT
Enter, the older heavyweight steel giant,
The bailiff, a 1954 Hudson, reads unhesitant :
On the docket for this morning : guilty by implication - a Trabant,
In close custody with a Cutlass Supreme for supervision.
Next on the docket: a Pinto for likely gas-tank explosion.
Third on the docket: an English-made car (any marque) - body corrosion.
Lawyer for the prosecution, a pretentious character, a gas guzzler SUV
4x4 off-road with winch - for Saturday use on driveway only -
Hangs out with Vettes; and uses NO2 in fuel. Who?Drugs? Not me!
Downbeat guy as the defence counsel , a solid no nonsense Hummer,
A real enviro-bummer,
Klutzy ugly and personality like a mack truck in summer.
Trabant coughed its way to the stand.
Clerk of court Volkswagen, order in hand,
Read the indictment quietly, efficiently, bland.
Prosecution began with noisy opening musical-horn tunelets
The jury, all serious-minded stolid Volvos and Toyota Starlets
Were not impressed. Hummer clumsily interrupted with an objection, “Let’s
Stop, on the grounds of precedent,” but at this point Pinto reversed,
Crushed its trunk and its gas-tank exploded, and worst ,
Hit the the English car : and into flames they both burst.
Cutlass argued with the SUV, which was winched away pending sentence.
Case against the English car dismissed from lack of evidence.
Trabant was deported back to Germany: no import licence
Overseeing all these proceedings : the ever-reliable, I-won’t-budge,
The I-have-a-spotless-reputation, I-hold-no-grudge,
The mechanical virgin, the silent Rolls Royce as judge.
...........................................................................................................
Borrower,
Borrowing appettite;
Increasing gradually.
Weary to live within means.
Handcap of saving culture;
Hand-to mouth disposition.
Lender connives with bailiff!
chipepo lwele
I've had many honors bestowed upon me throughout the years.
Accolades and titles were heaped upon me by my peers.
Citations I've received and medals were pinned upon my breast,
But the title "Dad" I cherish more than all the rest!
I was honored to be called "Sarge" by men I was to lead,
And was priviliged to command that extraordinary breed
But there is nothing that can compare or is more dear to me,
Than to be called "Dad" and be the best that I can be!
Those in authority thought I had some leadership abilities,
And promoted me to "Chief" with increased responsibilities.
To be called "Chief" boosts one's ego somewhat I suppose,
But to be called "Dad" is very special, I proudly disclose!
I carried the prestigious label of "Bailiff" for a time,
And though it was an influential moniker and was held sublime,
This nor any other exalted title meant as much to me,
As being called "Dad" dangling my little ones upon my knee!
Though there are many things as a Dad I'll never comprehend,
Lord, I pray for wisdom as I extend a guiding hand.
There are honeyed words and other things that make me glad,
Bu there ain't nothin' I'd rather hear than, "I love you, Dad!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The distinguished judge sat on the bench for many, many years.
He was highly esteemed and loved by his associates and his peers.
With great dignity he donned the robe of his honorable profession,
And with clarity and common sense made his rulings at each session.
The challenge of the law since a young attorney was his passion.
For those washed up on perilous shoals, he had great compassion.
Nervous young lawyers were blessed to have him hear their case.
He treated them with ego-boosting dignity and abundant grace.
An unpretentious county judge was all he ever aspired to be,
Upholding his solemn oath to serve the people of his community.
Dispensing justice fairly to the rich and penniless as well,
Interpreting the law as he saw it and in this he did excel!
He scrupulously observed the Constitution and the tenets it decreed,
And espoused The Golden Rule as a way to fully succeed.
He cautioned youngsters of the challenging life that lay ahead,
And to learn from mistakes and pursue productive lives instead.
His long-time and ever faithful Bailiff saw to his every need,
Taking care of all details no matter how small the deed.
Blind justice was a vision in his mind as he balanced the scale.
You see, the judge was legally blind, working with the aid of braille!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
People rose in quick succession
As the bailiff said "All rise , this court is now in session"
The judge walked into the courtroom
And the trial would begin soon
My client stared straight ahead
On trial for killing the husband she had recently wed
He used to beat her after his drinking bouts
It was either him or her, no doubt
But it was a clear case of self defense
As I listened to the prosecutors opening statement
Then the first witness was called
An elderly woman who lived two houses away
She said she heard a loud argument on the night in question
Followed by two shots in quick succession
But she forgot to mention
That fireworks were going off on the night in question
As more witnesses were called
I cross examined them all
There was no denying that some of them were lying
The trial lasted for seven days
And there were many reasonable doubts raised
Finally it was given to the jury to deliberate
In their hands was my client's fate
On the fourth day a verdict was reached
My client stood up with tears in her eyes
As the judge said "Will the defendant please rise"
It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop
But my client's tears did not stop
The verdict was read rather quickly
"We the jurors find the defendant .... not guilty"!!
My clients fears turned to joy
As she hugged and thanked me
I had set the fair maiden free
From the dragon raging out of control
I was the hero, the dragon slayer of old
The atmosphere is electric,
There is music in de air,
Drinks at the bar are flowing
I, in de latest gear
Opportunity for sex on the horizon
I'll pick up a guy or two
It's time I start to live my life,
Enjoy de things I do
After hours on de dance floor and liquor that can't done
I still felt the emptiness which follows this type of short-lived fun.
As I sat and pondered, it all came back and hit me like a tone
God's word says sin indeed has pleasure, but only for a season
Lord, I thank You for Your Word!
That is one scenario, I have at least another two.
Which clearly paints the role God's Word plays in everything we do.
Broke to de bone not a cent to my name
The baby crying and the bailiff here to make me shame
I was hungry and hurting with nowhere to go
Cause I had already begged all de people I know
I dropped down on de floor and poured my heart out to heaven
Then God's word spoke clear '... ask and it shall be given'
Almost instantly a knock was heard
God had moved my neighbor's heart to completely fill my cupboard
It's times like these my gratitude would very clearly be heard
Lord, I thank You for Your Word!
Girl you look like a zip when you turn to de side
If I had a face like yours I'd be sure to hide
Stick and stone may break my bones but words would paralyze me
My spirit is wounded and my self-worth 's low as could be
People judge me not based on who I am inside
But simply on what they see
Maybe I should end my life and put a stop to this
But God's Word came almost audibly - one I couldn't miss
Child, you are fearfully and wonderfully made
Known before the beginning of time
All your members were written in my book while yet undefined
I marveled at God's grace and His love for me
Then could not help but raise my voice
And say more confidently
Lord, I thank You for Your Word!
Lord, I cannot thank you enough for all the things You do
For Your Word which is ever powerful has been proven to be true
Inspired by You completely and used to bring out in us the best
For doctrine, reproof, correction, instruction in righteousness
You said if I hide it in my heart, it's sure to keep me from sin
And that success is guaranteed if I do all that is written therein
When I give thought to all these truths
I have to let my voice be heard
And conclude by saying again
Lord, I thank You for Your Word!!!
The distinguished judge sat on the bench for many years.
He was highly esteemed, loved by the community and his peers.
The challenge of the law since a young attorney was his passion.
For those washed up on perilous shoals he had great compassion.
An unpretentious county judge was all he ever aspired to be,
Upholding his solemn oath to serve the people of the community.
Dispensing justice fairly to the rich and penniless as well,
Interpreting the Constitution as he saw it and in this he did excel.
He cautioned youngsters of the challenging life that lay ahead,
And to learn from mistakes and pursue productive lives instead.
His long-time and faithful bailiff saw to his every need,
Taking care of all details no matter how small the deed.
Blind justice was a vision in his mind as he balanced the scale.
You see, the judge was legally blind, working with the aid of Braille!
Entry for Carolyn Devonshire's "Justice" Contest
Knock, knock who is it,
The bill collector is at the door
He keeps on coming back for more
Knock, knock I can't open the door
He keeps on threatening me even more
Knock, knock I can't take this anymore
The bill collector keeps knocking at the door
Knock, knock go away
Why do you choose to stay
It's not like I don't want to pay
I just haven't much to give a way
I don't wish to delay, I want to repay
Why can't you wait till payday
Knock, knock the Bailiffs at the door
He keeps on banging down the door
I can't take this harassment anymore
It's like he provoking war
Knock,knock I need to escape through the back door
Before we get into an argumentative war
Whereby I am on the floor
Asking him not to harass me anymore
Knock, Knock who is it ,the Bailiffs at the door
I wont knock you to the floor
But I will be back for more.
The beating of the Mill,
we hear it down the hill.
It is the town's heartbeat.
No children on the street
already in the shop
to labor till they drop.
Sold to the upper class;
the mother needs the brass.
The father on the beer;
not working since last year.
The bosses own their soul,
their houses, so they toll;
boy, sister, young as four
stay bailiff from the door.
They; hardly off the teat,
meet quotas, or get beat.
Most dying all too young
from ailment of the lung
or bodies ripped apart.
No healthcare; caring heart
so poorer lose their health
while richer gain more wealth
on broken bodies, pain.
The workers take the strain.
Not distant, in the past
but present, and to last.
You think that things have changed,
you all must be deranged;
The Beating of the Mill
is calling us all still!
The Sweat Shop Poetry Contest placed 5th
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Date wrote: 15th February 2022
I have never been blessed by God,
I am the main sources of evil
I was created by man
I am known to have the lever that moves the world
So I was told
With my power I can help with the bailiff
Or
And I can make you jump of the cliff
Some folks never seem satisfy with me
When in abundant
I am known to misled
The
Wise, the meek
I never bring happiness
My association with ant-nose
as
The new evolution
Grain and brain
Who am I?
"ALL RISE! THIS HONORABLE COURT IS NOW OPEN AND IN SESSION!"
Th' court room wuz his domain, bailiffin' wuz his profession!
No one dared hornswoggle him in that hallowed room.
Should any nonsense occur, he'd surely lower th' boom!
Usin' th' butts uv his forty-fours, he'd gavel th' court to order.
An' he pounded agin an' agin to quell any cheeky disorder!
The wisened old judge tolerated th' bailiff with some bemusement.
His antics provided folks with local lore an' amusement!
He'd served th' venerable judge fer years on th' western frontier.
His steely-eyed glare filled grovelin' scalawags with fear!
Hoss thieves, cattle rustlers an' drunks he'd seen galore,
An' desperadoes, train an' bank robbers by th' score!
Warn't no guns er bowie knives 'lowed thro' th' front door,
An ya better aim fer th' spittoon an' not mess up his floor!
B'fore enterin' his sacred realm ya'd better wipe off yer boots.
He didn't take no guff frum any of them hell-raisin' galoots!
Adjournment wuz gaveled fer th' old feller an' is talked uv today.
He met th' Big Judge In The Sky, on th' cold floor where he lay.
Seems he vigorously gaveled his rods, a stray slug hit his head!
Th' judge couldn't cope with that an' he too keeled over dead!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
He'll leave the baubles in the loft this year;
he so dislikes those sparkly plastic trees,
and real ones these days are far too dear.
The cost of heating home has put a squeeze
on almost everything that's fun, I fear.
He'll send some greetings texts, no Christmas card;
now that he's seen the cost of postage stamps,
using the pub's free wifi in their yard.
A happy holiday to all, love gramps!
He's worked his life; it shouldn't be this hard.
He'll walk to do his Christmas shop through snow;
not at the store but at the free food bank;
the bailiff took his car some months ago;
rising interest, he has that to thank!
A very Merry Christmas Ho Ho Ho!
He'll watch a little telly on the day;
a slice of bread, cold chicken soup from can,
to keep the dreaded hunger pangs at bay;
this hero veteran, this old guardsman.
And in the cold, alone, he'll fade away.
"ALL RISE! THIS HONORABLE COURT IS NOW IN SESSION!"
I whack the gavel down, I'm a Bailiff by profession.
Another challenging day in the hallowed court room begins,
As hapless souls appear before the judge to recount their sins!
The cases on the docket really run the gamut, you see,
From a neighbor's barking mutt to murder in the first degree!
Some folks want a jury trial which is their constitutional right,
Praying a sympathetic jury will relieve them from their plight!
The judge ponders what to do with those poor forlorn souls,
Whose misdeeds have washed them upon on perilous shoals.
A defendant asks the inscrutable judge not to remand him to jail,
While his lawyer pleads earnestly for his release on bail!
The judge's pace is frantic, he's got a lot on his mind.
He's lost his specs, I say, "Judge, justice is supposed to be blind!"
My inane remark makes him guffaw and seems to ease the strain.
I find his bifocals and he dispenses justice once again!
A Bailiff's job is hectic and there's little time for leisure.
Loyalty to the judge is paramount since you serve at his pleasure,
Tactfully but firmly communicating with all sorts of humanity,
Supporting the judge and the community with the utmost fidelity!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)