Best Cop Poems
Breasts, boobies, knockers, **** – call them what you will
We are talking about breast cancer – and sadly it can kill
The key to success with catching the disease is early detection
Remember boobies aren’t just funbags to give a fella an ********
Breasts can be appreciated in the their own unique way
Have a feel for lumps make it a sexy game to play
Let him ‘cop a feel’ and if a lump you do detect
Go straight to the GP - this lump you mustn’t neglect
It can be simply that you have lumpy boobs or a cyst
It’s not necessarily cancer but it can be on the list
The GP will send you for a mammogram or scan
Mammograms aren’t comfy, staff do it as quickly as they can
Hopefully the results will put your mind at rest
But sadly sometimes it shows cancer of the breast
Early detection is the key to beating this cancer
Regular mammograms really are the answer
Don’t forget about the men they have pecs or moobs
They can get breast cancer too we are talking about ALL boobs
Jan Allison
17th October 2014
October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, which is an annual campaign to increase awareness of the disease – remember breast cancer affects both males and females with 1 in 1000 males being diagnosed with breast cancer
Alternating red and blue, police car siren blaring.
My heart is thumping wildly. I wave and blow him a kiss,
But he doesn't notice. He is on the job, not caring.
And since I'm driving slowly, a chance meeting I'm going to miss.
Had he wings, he would be the Heavenly Angel Michael.
But he is an honest cop who watches for speeders on the road.
His manner is courteous; his aura is physical,
Yet, his peaceful brow is smooth, tending not to furrow hold.
Today, I see him at the curb writing a citation.
I wave, I wink, and blow a kiss as I drive on by.
Though my heart is bursting with daily infatuation,
It is those California girls who always catch his eye.
At a spot of roadside, shaded
A predator on the prowl
Concealed itself and waited
for prey to run afoul…
Then, madly, with a dash,
It shot out from the thicket;
Nabbed one prey, in a *flash*
And slapped it with a ticket.
He'd swindle fate, but they bought in
protected by a badge' restraint,
the pusher, in a ring, his nose
would deal with any dealing's pose!
So "sell for us" ~ the deputy's roll
& County Attorney "in the know!"
The sentence lightened, they'd absorb,
"be on our team" ~ part of the corp!
So down to earth, one jury's word
would ridicule this motion serve,
and if your caught, legal reserve
is always waiting ~ why lose nerve!
It's open season, dope's the word,
the Deputy's fix, with license lured
by silence that is kept observed ~
it's who you are, not what occurred!
He's Sheriff now ~ this bridging's game
took him uphill ~ crimes not to blame,
see now if justice could disdain,
his uniform speaks ~ what's in it . . . . feigns!
BLUE EYES AND BLACK FLESH MESH TO COP DOPE
The smoggy air was thick atop a Harlem high rise
The only thing out of place was a boy with blue eyes
He was a youth in search of peace not found at home
And so the boy with blue eyes was begotten to roam
He ventured forth into a world of darkness to search
Having long ago been abandoned by school and his church
Neither religion nor education could comfort him so he took to the road
Headed afar from the comfort of his family’s hearth and abode
So there stared blazing blue eyes on a rooftop’s domain
As he talked to a man with a way to ease his pain
Thirty dollars and a smile would send him on his way
And so he returned to Harlem day after damnable day
Long Island had raised him but that island wasn’t long enough
And middle class madness left him with sadness to rebuff
Day after day he’d climb the stairs to where they would meet
A tall black man and a boy with blue eyes trying to be discreet
The black man sold his wares by dollars and a bag
The boy with blue eyes fearing his toes with a tag
Because in Harlem death was an indeterminate threat
And a boy with blue eyes had better pay every debt
Sometimes the air was thinner during winter’s cold weather
Yet and still the two faced fear while huddling close together
Harlem was his teacher and a rooftop was this junkie’s incubator
And writing this poem is blue eyes still with a habit forty-three years later
© 2012….copyright PHREEPOETREE.....~free cee!~
The C.O.P. (Cop On Patrol) by Robert Allison
One day I was driving in my car,
But I hadn't drove very far.
When I was scared out of my might,
By a pair of red and blue lights.
Well, I thought the cop just wanted to race,
But actually it was me, he was trying to chase.
So, of course, I had to stop,
When up came a big, tall cop.
I said "Hi, how do you do?"
He said "OK, and same to you."
"This ticket's for your car's racket,
And for no license plate bracket."
I said "I hope this ticket's free."
He said "Nope, that'll cost a big fifty."
I thought it was me he was trying to con,
And I said "Aw, now, Come on!"
He said "Don't give me none of yo' jive,
Or else it'll cost ya seventy five!"
So then I headed towards home,
In my shiny piece of chrome.
My mom came after me with a broom,
And said "Now you, get to your room!"
Well, I had already started to sob,
Because I knew I needed a job.
But, I sure hated the thought of work,
Because I knew I'd feel like a jerk.
The job I got, I know is mine.
And I sure feel so fine.
I'm sure glad that ticket wasn't free,
'Cause now I am an EMPLOYEE !
He is a special breed, for a special deed
You would never know by the way that he looks
He has nerves of steel. heart becomes cold
But his goal is a special deed
A renegade, can't always do it by the book'
His life is always on hold
He dress he dresses like a out law, still inside the law
He has to blend in and not be found out
No matter what kind of crime, he has to talk the talk
Make them think that he is out law
No room for any doubt
He is dead if he can't walk the walk
Gets down in their cesspool
Smells the same smell that they do
Walking a tight rope all the time
No room for any kind of fool
Not the regular man in blue
But he knows how to get the slime
The thing that they hate the most is a :snitch"
If found out he could get blown away
In my book they are the cream of the crop
He loves to tell a criminal in cuffs,"Yeah life is a b...tch
You could not get me to do that on his pay
Thank God for the under cover cop
Some entrants think I am overly officious, even mean
That’s all right with me, I know I can be rather picky,
So, here are some guidelines when submitting to me
If you follow them carefully, you’ll find me less prickly.
I am inclined to nix your entry to my poetry contest
If you have obviously not proofread your submission,
Finding repeated words, misspellings are my first test
Then complex words and phrases will try my disposition.
I do not think I am wrong to expect proper grammar
For poet/writers should be the experts in this field,
Good contest entries should be your finest endeavors
Appealing to strong principles I am unlikely to yield.
Subject verb agreement and not changing your tense
In the middle of your poem, carefully choosing a word
Most of all, make certain your poem makes good sense
I’m not inclined to appreciate the poetry of the absurd.
Be not dismayed, however; I have a feeling for effort
I understand the limitations of language, especially ESL
And, I appreciate a good poem that might not comport
Sooner or later your poems will receive notice, as well.
Remember, some exceptional poets will be submitting
So, you can expect their names to appear at the top
Since I have little patience with errors you’re permitting
I suppose I am setting myself up as a kind of poetry cop!
Written June 12, 2022
The Warrior, the Artist, the Healer and the Cop
The blood of my ancestors
Flows strongly through four
One is my child
But there are three more.
One is the warrior
Who leans far right.
One is the artist
With visionary sight.
One is the healer
Disease to stop.
And one is my daughter,
The cop.
Each one of these is better
Than we who raised them, deserve.
They’ve survived the fires
Fanned by our lost nerve.
They’ve taken our mistakes
Transcended them all.
And then, more, or less,
Forgave us.
Somewhere in the line
Of those from before
Were brilliant, strong humans
Who opened the door
To these fine children
Who grew up un-sutured
To make the adults
Who will save our sad future.
Mediocrity may rage
And an ocean of angst
But these fine young adults
Will rise from the ranks
Hold high their individual
Strength and resolve
And each, in their own way
Their life problems solve.
We did everything wrong
But somehow they are right.
With compassion and love
Justice and second sight.
I fear my tomorrow
But when things get rough
I thank those before me
Who gave them the right stuff.
Mari Sloan
Copyright November 2010
Never cop out
In order to solve a problem
one must think like a “cop”
One must go to that single donut hole
place in his gut and make a rational decision
Cop only to the human heart
Cop to the heart, body mind and soul in order
to find that through line ...
You know that a through line is also the happy medium ending place that which is absent of malice and forethought
Then "Cop" into this happy medium place where "Copping" really, really count
The armed services think they're autonomous,
after 'Deepcut,' it may no longer be the case;
the man from MI6 paid Colonel Llewellyn a visit,
he informed him that a military court was irrelevant.
He said that the services were answerable to HM Government,
and could no longer abide by in-house decisions;
Colonel Llewellyn looked at the man from MI6,
'Do you have authority to make these comments?' He asked.
He was informed that he did, with a dry smile,
'Situations will be monitored, no initiation rites,
no bullying, no misplaced discipline, nothing like that,'
Colonel Llewellyn said, 'This is outrageous.'
'How do you intend to implement such proposals?'
MI6 said: 'I can assure you that there is no choice.'
The other day I was a cruising, right on down the street.
And I did spy a cop car, plainly marked, yes, an SUV.
Now I would swear that I really saw a Lady Cop inside.
A Lady Cop inside an SUV? Yes, that’s what I really saw.
Now that’s a really tough job, even, at the best of times.
And I don’t want to make fun of women, in this work line.
I’m sure they must be tougher than all the rest, to get respect.
They probably work their tails off, for promotions, theirs to get.
And I sure doubt I would get a pass on any tickets, either, to be true.
I just can’t shake the image, of a soccer mom, my mind keeps going to.
I know it’s wrong… I know… I know… this I really… shouldn’t say…
But I feel it’s right to call her a ‘Soccer Mom Cop’, some how, this way.
I know… I know… But ‘Soccer Mom Cop’ keeps rolling, in my head.
And God help me, she may not understand, if she hears, what I just said.
All I hope is she won’t hunt me down, to lavish tickets, in recompense.
But I mean it, in the nicest way; though to you, it may not make any sense.
A traffic cop will make you stop
Because, of course, he can;
And so you sit and seethe inside
Your car or mini-van.
He’ll wave some traffic through
And some pedestrians let pass,
Your foot upon the brake instead
Of stepping on the gas.
He’s hooked on all his power –
After all, he’s in control –
And ruining your day appears
To be his only goal.
It’s strange to see what happens
When authority’s assigned.
Put someone in command and soon
A bully’s what you’ll find.
INSPECTOR ABUJA
Wonder why when abuja...
has proved over and over again..
that hes capable of just about pullin..
any stunt from his warped brain..
abuja became a police inspector
chasing thief complete with a gun..
a loaded gun.. uniform police coat..
nothin below.. just police coat..and arms
credentials of inspector Abuja..
You requires special clearance
to ascertain his authority....
did he not promote two constables...
summoned to vigilantee house
real inspector locks him up..
mysterious Abuja maintains that.. i..
i am an inspector.. high level clearance..
no one knows why the good inspector
let the fake one go.. hushes.. say the doors
refused to lock abuja up.. or may be the good
inspector lacked level 5 high security clearance
So they let abujas go
now hes claiming. hes
best by merit. based by merit
deployed policia militia generaia..dpmg..
Lewis k Nyaga
Have you ever needed help? Been car-jacked, beat-up, robbed?
Did local thugs come to your aid, or did they help the mob?
What's that? Someone took your purse, car keys, and your phone?
Did the thugs come help you then, or leave you all alone
They asked you if you knew the thugs, how dare they, that's unfair
you really didn't see them though, they gave you quite a scare
Who saved your life, protected you and got you safely home?
Can't remember, in a daze? But think it was someone
In some kind of uniform, now that is hard to take
Oh no, a Cop? Your serious? There must be some mistake
How many people did you call, before you called a Cop?
You say there's no one else to call, the public would not stop?
You walked the streets in protest, claiming they're all bad
who was it? You can think back now, that came to save your dad?
You heard them smash the windows, you saw them set the fires
now you're really torn between, the truth and what transpires
You saw them burn the squad car, in a phony fit of rage
isolated incident? (They didn't act their age)
Things are heating up again, you don't know what to do?
Chances are if you need help, you'll call someone in "Blue".....
Pete Yuhas